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stardew-saloon · 3 years

Note

Weird headcannon request: what would your favorite villagers do in an apocalypse

Listen listen listen. I fucking love anything to do with the apocalypse, especially when zombies are involved. So I’ll write about that !!

This one took a while, sorry ! I wanted to include at least all of the bachelors, and then bachelorettes in another post maybe if I’m not lazy.

Also I follow someone on my other account and I really liked how they like, used different colors to highlight names, so I think I’m gonna do that ! It’s just cute okay :)

Bachelors in the Apocalypse

Alex

Alex thinks of himself as the most ready for the apocalypse. He’s got what he and his family need to survive for months. Food, weapons (Mostly just old baseball bats), clothes, and the Will to Survive.

The zombies probably come from Zuzu city. City people are dumb and get infected right when the virus hits. Everyone in SDV is safe. For now, at least.

Alex, unlike the other villagers, refuses to interact with anyone but his grandparents. He keeps contact extremely limited with people. The only time he ever interacts is when he goes to drop off cookies at Haley’s house, per Evelyn’s request.

He does miss his best friend, though. He misses everyone. He misses that time where he didn’t hear zombies going around the town, banging on doors and smacking their heads against windows. It sucks!

Alex takes a number of zombies down. He’s easily one of the toughest bachelors, plus he’s super strong. He wants to eventually take out all of them, make the valley a safe haven like it used to be. There’s still a long ways to go, but he’s slowly making progress.

His grandparents, especially Evelyn, help out by cooking for him and others. Alex helps out other villagers by dropping off little care-packages. It’s cute! It’s also his way of keeping in contact with everyone and making sure they’re okay.

Alex is the one in a zombie apocalypse movie to survive until the end. He makes the smartest choices and keeps his family safe. He can’t afford to lose anyone else.

Harvey

As a doctor, Harvey’s first thought when he hears about the zombie apocalypse is that he needs to find a cure.

And so he tries to. For about a week. Maru is in the office with him for a while, going back and forth from her house to the doctor’s office. It’s tough experimenting on zombies and it feels.. wrong.

Even though they’re a zombie, Harvey knows that there’s a person in there. Was a person. So he gives up on the cure and instead focuses on keeping the citizens healthy.

Harvey is a goddamn tank. Were he to be partnered with Alex, the zombies would be gone within two days. However, they have different concerns. Alex keeps the zombies away from the valley, and Harvey keeps them away from houses.

They have a good system. Harvey goes around the houses to do checkups, trying to keep some form of order in the new world. He makes sure the oldies stay healthy, despite being cooped up, and that the people that are out fighting stay un-zombieified.

I think Harvey would almost last to the end, but makes a careless mistake and gets bit. Fortunately, a cure comes around! He still did research on the zombies during the apocalypse, and his notes came in handy.

Elliott

You’d think by now that Elliott would be used to being cooped up in his house. He’s practically a hermit! The only time he used to go out was to sit by the ocean or see Leah at the bar.

Now that he has to stay in, he doesn’t like it. It’s the same as all of us with quarantine. Elliott never went out much before, but now that he can’t, he wants to.

He feels like dying of boredom within a week. Fortunately, the sense of impending doom creates a good writing atmosphere. He finishes at least three books during the span of the apocalypse.

However, Elliott isn’t very smart about his survival. He either forgets to eat the food that Alex drops off, or eats it before the week is up. It’s tough.

Eventually, Elliott decides he can’t survive on his own like this. He feels like he’s going mad. It makes for nice poetry, but for now, he needs to prioritize his health.

So he makes his way to Leah’s! He figures it’s probably a good idea. Nobody ever said that you couldn’t hang out with friends, or stay with them.

While going to Leah’s, he’s not very careful with avoiding any zombies. He’s not attacked, but he is followed. Leah let’s him in of course, and then end up holed up in her house. She’s lucky enough to have the forest near her house, so she can rely on that.

Elliott probably trips up somewhere and ends up dying first, joining the rest of the zombies. He’s not very good at being a zombie, though. Which might be for the best! He doesn’t run around very much and usually just hangs back by himself.

Sam

Sam thinks he’s going to be good at the whole apocalypse thing. He’s like “I’ve played enough first-person shooter zombie games to know how to fight them off.” Then the second he’s put into combat, he falters and doesn’t know what to do.

Lucky for him, Jodi is good at fighting. Kent knows how to defend the house. Vincent knows how to ask dozens of questions about what’s going on.

And Sebastian knows how to sneak into Sam’s window at night when they haven’t seen each other in a while. They still try and keep close, but most of their conversations are over the phone. It gets lonely, sometimes.

Sam isn’t necessarily smart about the apocalypse because he doesn’t need to be. He feels bad about relying on his parents, but you would too if you had his kickass parents.

He knows how to keep Vincent safe! Vincent is taken out at least once a week, mostly to see Jas. He misses her a lot. Sam likes to see Shane, too! He misses working with his buddy, even if his body was a grouchy alcoholic that waved him off whenever Sam got within ten feet of him. Good times.

Sam really wants things to be normal again, so he tries to stick with Alex whenever he sees him out. They’re good at fighting, but Sam is very chatty and often gets distracted by other things.

Other things are usually Abigail waving out of her window and whisper-shouting for Sam. Sometimes she’ll whip out the Samson!!! just to get his attention. It usually works. Alex will take a minute just to tease him.

Sam either survives until the end of the apocalypse, or dies about halfway through while on his many night trips to see Sebastian and Abigail.

Sebastian

Apocalypse? He doesn’t even know her.

Sebastian’s life is literally the exact same. Aside from hearing less people upstairs, nothing has changed about his life. Demetrius is upstairs working on a cure or something (Seb tuned out the second he started talking) and Maru goes off with Harvey sometimes.

He heard Robin say something about building a wall or something to keep the zombies out. He wasn’t planning to help very much, seeing as the others mom and some other villagers wanted to help out. Really, the only place the zombies are coming in is through the tunnel for the bus, so if they block that off, they’ll be fine.

Sebastian is more focused on other things. Like staying in contact with Sam and Abigail to make sure that they’re still kicking. Demetrius doesn’t let anyone outside of the house, so Sebastian sneaks everywhere, whether it’s outside to go smoke or to see his friends.

He’s pretty good at fighting, though. He can defend himself a whole lot better than Sam, who he thoughts would have more experience. They both thought his video game theory was true because they’re both dummies.

Those few times where Seb does get out of the house, he’s like a zombie killing machine. It’s too bad he’s doesn’t do it very often. He’s good at sneaking around, too. Those years of tiptoeing around the house to avoid his stepdad yelling at him are really paying off.

Honestly, the whole apocalypse could end and the zombies could dissapear, and Sebastian would have no idea. He'd still be down in the basement, messaging his friends and working on his coding.

Or, for a worse ending, zombies could storm his house, saving him for last, and he wouldn’t know until it was too late and he was surrounded by a horde.

I think Seb would end up surviving, though. He’s not necessarily good at the apocalypse, he’s just good at avoiding it.

Shane

When Shane thought about sobering up, he never imagined he’d have to do it like this. The apocalypse is pain in the ass for him.

He stays with Marnie and Jas, rarely leaving the property. He doesn’t like being holed up inside for so long because then he’s just alone with his thoughts, so Jas keeps him going most of the time.

As much as he hates to admit it, he misses his old life. He hated being employed at Joja, but it gave him something to do. And yeah, he misses his annoying coworker. Lucky for him, he gets to see him one a week when Sam and Vincent pop in.

Shane can act like he’s annoyed all he wants, but now? It’s he apocalypse. Why should he be so bitter?

I’m not going to say that the apocalypse changes Shane’s attitude, but he definitely has some revelations about himself that he wouldn’t have had under different circumstances.

Shane doesn’t like fighting zombies. Not as much as Alex does, anyways. But he still helps him out if it’s ever necessary. Shane is infinitely better at defending than he is attacking. He makes sure to keep the zombies away from their house, and the town in general.

Sometimes, Marnie will ask him to deliver stuff to Leah’s house, or Sam’s since they’re awfully close. It feels like a job to him, so he actually enjoys it. He’s surprised to see Elliott at Leah’s and immediately assumes they’re banging. He doesn’t ask any questions, though. He doesn’t care.

Shane probably ends up dying after a tiny mistake that could’ve easily been avoided. He doesn’t see it as that bad, since Jas is still safe. That was all that mattered to him, really. He either dies after a few months, or an entire year into the apocalypse. Either way he does not go down easily.

I would like everyone to know that I wrote these thinking that Lewis holes himself up in his house and does not help anyone out, so they kick him out and elect Alex as mayor. It was a silly thought I had, but then I just went with it.

Alex for Mayor 2020.

It’s not necessarily like, an official position, but they all kinda trust Alex to protect them, so he just assumes the position. He’s not the smartest, which is why Penny was elected to be Vice-Mayor (Alex’s words). They do a good job running the place.

Anyways that’s all! Hope you enjoyed! Sorry this took so long, it was a lot to write hah.

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chenfordupstead · 3 years

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2- getting settled/finding her again.

General POV

After meeting her three days ago,Jay had a hard time focusing on why he really moved to Texas. He put an alarm for five in the morning so he could get up and out early for his move as a detective in Texas. He had no idea what it would be like except for the fact that they like guns here, way more than they did in Chicago. Hopefully it would be smooth sailing. Groggily hitting his alarm he sat up in bed, after a while heading to the kitchen in the small apartment to make some coffee. After getting some caffeine he took an Uber to see if he could buy a car, getting out of the Uber, he thanked him and started looking at some cars.After looking for a while he met a dealer and got a great deal for a Truck that was basically new. He signed the papers which took a while, but he was happy he got a good car, mind that a truck which he would only drive in Chicago, nothing else. He got to the new district in Dallas. Turning the ignition off he slowly hopped out of his truck and took in the new look, the new people, and the new air which quickly got humid again. “So this will be fun.” He hummed to himself walking up the precinct steps. It looked so different from the 21st.He walked into the doors and was immediately greeted by a desk sergeant, “Hi can I help you.” She said. “Uh..yes I just got transferred yesterday from the 21st in Chicago.”“Oh, you must be Jay Halstead.” She said looking at him. “Yes that I am.” I said, mad that I used that choice of words. She chuckled dryly and said I could go to my new desk. Like what I was used to the bullpen was up two flights of stairs but this bullpen was on the left side instead of the right. I walked slowly opening the door. Faces looked up from their desks as I walked in. Friendly smiles mostly. They probably all knew who I was. “Alright, so we will keep this introduction short and sweet.” A tall women said. “Meet your new seargent Jay Halstead.” “Umm...did you just say Seargent.” I said slowly standing up. “Yes, you are from Chicago right. Jay nodded . “Hank Voight told us that you were promoted after he retired.” Jay did not know this. Jay watched her walk out as he turned to the detectives left in the room. “Umm..okay how do I start..umm let’s see, Hi everybody it’s nice to meet new detectives, I do not have a speech prepared because I had no idea I was your seargent until now.” Everyone chuckled at his remark. As he relaxed a little and started meeting everyone. After a few hours of getting settled and meeting everyone he asked one of the detectives who had one of the desks up front. “Alright Detective Martin, where are we at with this Kidnapping case.” He said as she looked up. “Umm right.” She stood up from her desk walking to the bulletin board up front. “Kyle ridgewater.” Last seen Monday, he is a five year old boy, and his father has many priors for abuse to the mother and him.” She finished saying. “Alright, I want someone on phone records of who the dad might have contacted, and I need someone to find where this mother lives.” “The people who do not have anything I want you guys to go through the dads social media, find hidden emails...” he trailed off.After making sure they knew what they were doing, he sat at his desk for a while. “Does anybody know where your last seargent’s office was.” He said as he looked around seeing if anybody knew. “Yeah he was in that back room.” Martin said. Pointing her finger towards the back. “Thanks.” He said as he started to walk towards the room. It was definitely smaller than Voights office, and he could already tell that this District ran a whole lot different than Voight ran his unit. After placing his PC on the desk he finished setting everything else up.“Sarge.” Detective Adams said. “We got a lead on the dad.” He said as Jay got up from his desk. “Alright , what do we have.” Jay asked crossing his arms. “The dad was seen at a local grocery store with a stolen car. As seen here.” He said as he played a video watching the dad get out of the car and shutting it.”

“We ran the plates, and it belongs to a Rosa Samson.” Another detective added. “Do we know who this Rosa Samson is.” Jay asked him. “Yeah, she works at a gas station, she has no priors, our guess is that she is a random person that he decided to take a car from.” “Alright let’s hit it.” Jay said. He was thinking he was slowly becoming Voight, even if it was just for a day. Voight always said that when they would find a stash house or anything like that. Hailey Uptons POVSitting in my dressing room, I slowly strummed my guitar, as I thought of a tune. A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. “Yes.” I said “you are live in five Hailey.” The voice said. It was Amanda her Manager. “Alright I’ll be out in a few.” I said back not wanting to interrupt my flow of tunes that were just pouring out of my head. “Don’t disappear like last time.” Amanda said.

General POV

Hailey looked down at the floor, and just nodded her head to herself getting back to her thoughts. Hailey only dissapeared last time she had to do a concert was because right before the concert her dad had a heart attack that night. She couldn’t bare to go on stage and pretend everything was fine, when it clearly was not in her head. She felt bad that she had let down her fans, but she did not want to have another panic attack on stage in front of thousands of people. Setting her guitar down she quickly finished up her makeup. She looked in the mirror one last time before picking her guitar back up and strapping it over her shoulder, and walked out of the dressing room. After the concert her phone buzzed. Hailey it’s your father.” “I know you don’t want to see him, but he wants to see you.The text read it was from her mom. She scoffed at this and just stared at her phone for a while. I will try my best to get over there as soon as I can.She replied slamming her phone on the makeup table. The truth is Hailey did not want to go see her father, he didn’t deserve it. All of her memories from the age five up until now, he never put good memories in her head. She didn’t know what caused the drinking but he started doing it more and more as she grew up. She could barely defend herself, she was glad her two brothers survived. Of course her father stopped drinking eventually but what really stuck out was that her mom stayed with him the entire time, even though he abused her too, and Hailey was mad at her mom for this. Hailey tried to sleep that night but couldn’t, and she was just tossing and turning until she decided to strum her guitar for some comfort. Her aunt gave her the first guitar that she ever had when she was eight years old. She took a like to it, and practiced all of her free time on it. After her aunt died when she was 14 years old. she made a song dedicated to her. That song made her famous, and since then she has been one of the most famous artists in Dallas Texas. For the next twenty minutes she wrote down good material, potentially for her next song that she would release of her producer liked it. After sitting there admiring her new lyrics she made a last second choice to find a bar that was open late at night. Of course this bar was the one that she played at, when she had free time, without her manager or any of her bodyguards knowing. She stepped onto the small stage through the curtains after hearing her name being announced.

Jay Halsteads POV

After we got a confession, and rescued the little girl. It was a while before she got back to her real family, due to them being hours away. It all played out, but some of the officers almost got shot. It was a trap and I feel like it was my fault that it was poorly planned out. It turns out the kidnapper was waiting for us and found out we were on his trail, and there was a huge shootout. No one really could have known but, I feel that there was something else I could have done. After sitting at the office finishing some more of the paperwork, I decided to take the tradition that I had in Chicago when I went to Molly’s after all of the cases, to find a bar and make it a tradition again. After seemingly looking around town for a while. I finally found a bar that was open and looked decent enough to go inside. Walking inside there was big crowd of people inside the bar, stared not even for a second and got back to drinking. After putting my keys into my pocket I ordered a scotch on the rocks. I sat there for a bit looking around until a noise from the speakers sounded “Please welcome Hailey Upton.”The speakers said and a blonde girl popped out from the curtains.

General POV

Jay watched as the blonde sat down and situated herself. Recognizing her immediately from the airport he watched her sing for a while. Amazed that this was probably why that there was paparazzi following her. She looked at the crowd smiling. “The next one is dedicated to my aunt. I wrote this while I was grieving, because she was my best friend.” She said clearing her throat. Jay felt sentiment for this stranger that he just met at the airport just a couple of days ago.Her voice began to fill the bar with sweet sound. “You can see how I how used to play, not in a serious way.” “You taught me, how to strum and now I can.” “Because you are my guardian angel, and something tells me, that you. Oh..you can still see and watch over me.”Jay watched as she switched her fingers on all of the different chords and sang softly on the mic. After she finished she thanked the crowd, and slowly stepped down off the stage. Quickly asking for a drink, Jay noticed her was staring at her and turned fast toward his drink on the stool. He noticed that she took a seat next to him. “Hey, I still have your jacket.” She nudged him smiling, which made him turn his head towards her. “I know I gave it to you Hailey.” Jay felt good finally to know her name. “It’s really comfy, I slept in it actually.” She said. Jay’s expression on his face changed to surprise, and then led to a smirk. “This is going to sound so strange...” “you know what never mind.” She quickly stopped herself looking at the ground. He studied her for a second before talking. “Just speaking from truth here...I have heard a lot of weird things...try me.” He suggested. “Okay fine...uh...”She smirked. “My brother had the same jacket as you, he actually left it to me before he uh..” she trailed off not finishing her sentence and just taking a drink of her beer in front of her. “So that’s uh why I like it, it reminds me a lot of Jackson.” She cleared her throat trying not to cry. “Oh..I’m sorry..I didn’t mean for you to...” He said changing his tone of voice. “No not at all..he’s not dead..uh he just..we haven’t seen him in months.” She said looking up at him. “MIA?” Jay asked her. “Uh..we don’t know..his whole team just seemed to go missing after a few months..we tried for a while to track them down....after a while there was nothing else we could really do.” She said. Jay noticed by the tone of her voice that she was done talking about it. “I’m sorry.” He offered.She nodded in thanks not saying a word for a few seconds. “Umm..anyways I will be in some of the worst trouble if my manager catches me here.” She said gathering her stuff. “I have a truck...and it’s late at night, and I’m going to assume since you snuck out that you walked here.”“If your asking me if I need a ride...I think I’ll be okay, it’s only a few minutes away.” She said smiling at him, then slinging her guitar over her chest. “But..thank you for the offer.” She said making her way out the door. “Hailey... I know we don’t know each other...but please the least I could do is drive you home.” Jay pleaded. “Your not going to try and kill me are you.” She chuckled. “I promise I will not kill you.” “Pinky promise, come on that’s a trust no one can break.” Jay said holding out his pinky. “Woah..the pinky, yes I trust you.” She said laughing. Jay laughed at her laughing. She stopped and her cheeks turned red. “Alright..shall we.” He said holding out his arm leading her out the door. “We shall.” She strolling out. Jay was glad she was trusting him, the last thing he wanted to do is make her feel not safe.On the drive there he decided to make light conversation. “So did you grow up or move here.” He said.She looked at him for a second.“I was born here. Texas has always been my home.” She said. Jay smiled at this because he loved how sentimental she was. “What about you, obviously you have no accent, so where are you from?” She questioned him looking down and strumming her guitar. “Uh..I transferred from an intelligence unit in Chicago, to a different one here.” Jay said keeping one hand on the steering wheel.

“I know that I seemed short earlier about my older brother being missing and all..” She started but Jay stopped her.“Not at all, I’m sorry for telling you to talk about it.” “If it helps at all, I did a couple of tours in Afghanistan..” “I just really miss him..he was my best friend after my Aunt died.” Jay let her talk. “he was my shoulder to cry on, the person I would go to for guidance in highschool.” “Gosh...I was..I am so close to him.” She said carefully changing her words. “I’m so sorry Hailey.” He said deciding whether or not he should put his hand on top of hers or do something for comfort but decided against it when she started talking again.“This is me right here.” She said as Jay slowed down and stopped in front of a semi-big house.“Umm..thank you so much for the ride.” She said hopping out of his giant truck. He smiled a little bit at how she had to use the step to get down. Quickly changed it when she looked at him. “Of course, anytime, and I mean anytime, here’s my card.” Oh he wishes he hadn’t did that,but his hand was already offering the small rectangular card to her. “Thanks I will.” She said. “Wow.” She said. “Umm....I’m glad you like the card he said playfully.” “Actually thank you, it was nice to talk to someone other than the people who barely listen.” She said. “Anyways, I’ll see you around.” “If you can make it, but I am sure you will be busy, I have a concert Next Friday.” Ask for Kayla Dean and she will know.” She offered before shutting the truck door.He rolled down his window. “I will most definitely try.” He said partially yelling before she looked at him like he was crazy. “Sorry.” He whispered. She just laughed as she walked up the steps. Jay was falling in love again, how could this be possible, it has only been a couple of days. She must be worth he thought to himself, he made sure she got in safely making sure she walked through her door, then put the truck in drive, and he did not stop thinking about her when he got back to his aprtment, but he was able to finally catch some shut eye after a while.

Authors note:

Wow I cannot believe I wrote this in almost a day. To whoever reads this thank you and part 3 is coming your way.

#haileyuptonfamoussinger #jayhalsteaddetective #alternate universe #chicago pd #Texas #jay #upton #fluff #upstead #celebrities

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myfantasyocs · 4 years

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Surprise Kiss

Surprise kiss for the @14daysofdalovers event. Also there is implied parental abuse. Like there’s little details about said abuse but it is there. Also people seemed interested before that one of my ocs had medical training so I made an au where she’s a doctor instead of inquistior

“Nichole, I have a favor to ask? But it needs to be between us. Okay?”

“Okay.” Nichole said hesitantly taking the wine from her twin. She admits she’s a bit worried about what the favor was, with Evie being the Inquisitor, but she can at least hear her out, definitely after letting her stay in Skyhold to help her reclaim her life from their parents.

“I have a friend.” Evie started before pausing, scrunching her nose the same way Nichole does, when she tries to focus one something. “ He has retired from the templars and has decided to quit lyrium. The lyrium withdrawal causes headaches. He doesn’t want to waste Inquisition resources on his head aches, because he’s an ass. I mentioned that you have medical training and that you when you aren’t accompanying me on the field that you have a lot of free time and that I trust you enough to not go around telling people his personal details.”

“So, you just want me to give him stuff with his migraines and try to help alleviate any other symptoms he may have?”

“Hey don’t pretend that this will be easy. He is a stubborn ass and will pretend he’s fine as he is lying on the floor in absolute agony.” Evie warned.

“Is he aware of you asking me for help? Or are you meddling with his life?”

“Yes to both, I nagged him into getting help, until he agreed for the low cost of me leaving him alone.”

Nichole sighed, realizing how unwelcomed her presence is going to be.

Which is how she ended up standing in front of The Commander of the Inquisition’s door, summoning the courage to hand him migraine medicine. He’s probably going to yell at her and get mad at her attempts of helping. Her sister did strongarm him. And, Nichole shook her head trying to shake the train of thought out of her head. Her sister told him she was coming. He knew she was coming. That’s just the worst case scenario, best case he is rich and throws money at her. Most likely she is just going to hand him the medicine and he will thank her. So, he is probably going to just thank her and they’ll be done.

She knocked on the door and entered the office when she heard a voice telling her to come in. She dropped the medicine on his desk barely glancing at the blonde man sitting at the desk and started to ask the questions she prepared on the way there.

“Hello, I’m Nichole Trevelyan and I’m assuming your Commander Rutherford.” Nichole stated wincing at how stilted she sounded. Damn she needs to stop being so nervous meeting new people.

“Please just call me Cullen. I’m not the biggest fan of titles.”

“Okay, Cullen. My sister explained that your withdrawals are giving you some minor headaches. I think the potion on your desk will help. I made sure it’s lyrium free. I know most medicine’s don’t use lyrium, but sometimes they do. So I checked it.” Nichole said in one breath, trying to get the words out as quickly as possible.

“Nichole. Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.” Cullen said gently grabbing her hand.

“Yeah. Of course. New people, combined with my sister trusting me. I’m a bit nervous. I’ll get better, sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I understand, your sister is a very intimidating woman.”

Nichole placed her hand on her mouth trying to hide her smile. “ Be careful, you don’t want Evie to hear you say that, she already thinks you’re a stubborn ass.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize I got promoted from. I thought I was just an ass.” Cullen grumbled.

Nichole felt bad snorting and started to apologize again.

“Don’t apologize for laughing at my awful joke, I won’t tell your sister.”

“I’m honestly surprised when she told me you were a templar and her friend.”

Cullen looked at her shocked. “I’m surprised she called me a friend.”

Nichole and Cullen ended up meeting at least every month and quickly these little check ups became the most enjoyable part of Skyhold for Nichole. She didn’t even mind being left off missions with her sister anymore, where she would have no one but Cole to talk to and always end up feeling like a waste of space. Now she spends time with Cullen, whenever she has the chance.

And when he was busy she would spend time with one of her new friends who introduced themselves after she and Cullen became friends. Her favorite was Dorian, who introduced himself by stating that he wanted to “meet the girl their dear commander was so interested in.” and he said with a smile that seemed to hide a joke, she didn’t understand.

Dorian was the only person who understood her complicated emotions about her parents. Evie only seemed to hate them and didn’t seem to understand the warm feelings Nichole still felt for them. Dorian did though. And it made her feel slightly less crazy.

She hasn’t been this happy since… ever. She adored having these new friends. Especially Cullen. She loved how strong he is and that he managed to survive what he did. She loved that he was trying to be a better person after Kirkwall. She loved how annoyed he gets at Sera’s pranks. She loved how much he tries to make her good at chess and how he sometimes lets her win, thinking she wouldn’t notice. He also has such a cute smile and laugh. He even promised that he wouldn’t let her parents touch her or Evie when she told him what her parents were like. She even showed him her drawings. And she never shows anyone her art. Not even Evie. Cullen is one of the most amazing people she met and she’s so glad he’s in her life. Even if she wished that he didn’t have to deal with withdrawal symptoms to have them meet.

Nichole skipped to his office, carrying their lunch, that they always eat together since they realized that they both tend to forget to eat. Best way to make sure the other didn’t starve they decided. She loved these lunches, where she can see Cullen be Cullen and not a commander or her patient.

Cullen opened the door before she even had a chance to knock and Cullen looked pale and was shaking.

“Something wrong?” Nichole asked concerned that his withdrawal were acting up again.

“No, nothing’s wrong.” Cullen said way too quickly for Nichole’s confort.

She closed the door behind her as she entered the office, Cullen refusing to make eye contact with her.

“Cullen, your acting like me. What’s wrong?”

“What?”

“ A nervous wreck. What’s wrong?”

“Oh, um, I just have a question.” Cullen stated , red coloring his pale, sickly complexion.

“Oh? Well I’m always happy to listen. So, calm down and tell me what’s wrong. I won’t hurt you.”

Her words must have reached Cullen because the fear etched into his face was replaced with a determination, she only saw when he helped her sister track down Samson.

He then pinned her to the door and placed his lips on hers. He kissed her hard and fast, his hands seemingly trying to touch every inch of her. He pulled away gasping and started to apologize, but Nichole just pulled him back towards, not wanting the kiss to end. She wrapped her legs around him and allowed Cullen and the door to support her weight as Cullen stuck his tongue in her mouth, making Nichole release a noise she didn’t even know she could make. Cullen pulled away gasping letting Nichole catch her breath as he peppered her neck with kisses.

“So, I was wondering if you would be interested in pursuing a relationship.” Cullen asked between the kisses her neck was receiving.

Nichole laughed at the fact he still asked after he kissed her senseless and nodded, before realizing he couldn’t see her nod. “Yes, Cullen. I would like that very much.”

“Good.” Cullen sighed before kissing her again.

#14dalovers #cullen x trevelyan #cullen x inquisitor #cullen rutherford

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whereismywarden · 5 years

Note

Violette/Samson “You’re n-not ,um, w-wearing anything under that, are you..?” :///D

Thank you so much, this is a great prompt! I took it as an opportunity to have them finally, ahem, deflower the War Table ^^

[Smut Prompts]

Read on AO3

prompt: “You’re n-not ,um, w-wearing anything under that, are you..?” pairing: female inquisitor x raleigh samson.rating: explicit.warning: not work safe, smut.

The War Table was the only thing left in the room. Stripped of all decor and without her faithful advisors standing behind it, the place didn’t look so impressive anymore. It was just a simple, dusty room with a large oak table standing in the middle.

Violette had never seen it so empty before. It was intriguing. She’d always thought that without the map and the small markers, it would look like a plain old table. But she was surprised to discover that someone had carved the borders of Thedas into it. And if she remembered it well, the map should line up with them perfectly. She brushed a finger along the shores of the Waking Sea, softly, as if she were scared her touch might summon a storm in the real world.

“Are you getting nostalgic?”

She turned around to face Samson who was leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed in front of him in a casual sort of way.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she sneered. “I can’t wait to get out of this damn place.”

He snorted, raising an eyebrow in clear disbelief.

“I only came here because it’s the last place anyone would come looking for me,” she felt the need to explain. “Clearly, I was wrong.”

“I think the last place people would come looking for you is the chapel.”

“I considered it, but there are still worshipers left around here who go there to actually pray. This room isn’t being used anymore, so I figured it would be a good place to hide from everyone’s fake sympathy.”

“I don’t think they’re faking it.”

“Not the point, Samson. I don’t need anyone’s pity.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No, it’s fine. You’re one of the few people in Thedas whose company I don’t mind,” she said as she sat on the edge of the table.

His tongue flicked over his lips as his eyes lingered over her body. Lately, she had gotten into the habit of wearing robes and dresses. They were easier to pull on and off with only one hand. Josephine had offered to assign a servant to her in order to help her dress in the morning, but Violette loathed the idea of being so vulnerable in front of a complete stranger. The dress she wore today was Dalish made and cut just above the knees. It was meant to be worn with some type of legwear, but she had forgone those for the same reason she had stopped wearing breeches.

“You’re not, um, you’re not wearing anything under that,” Samson stammered. “Are you?”

She smirked. “Why don’t you come and find out?”

He didn’t need her to say it twice. He walked up to her with a sense of confidence and a smug smile on his face that made her want to throw him down on the floor and ride him like a wild druffalo. Placing one of his rough hands behind her neck, he pulled her into a passionate kiss. Hungry for him, she didn’t wait to return the favour and devoured him with open-mouthed kisses. She could feel his hard bulge poking her leg as he pressed his entire body against her. He let his free hand travel up her leg with a painfully slow motion, grinning against her mouth when he finally reached the apex of her thighs.

“Just as I thought,” he purred. Violette closed her eyes, a small whine escaping her as he hooked his fingers between her folds to draw small circles around her clit. “And would you look at that, all wet and ready for a good fuck.”

“I’m not the only one ready for a good fuck,” she replied, palming his bulge.

Kissing her again, he let his other hand slide gently down her throat and push the thin fabric of her dress to free her breasts. The touch of his fingers against her tender flesh was exhilarating. No, intoxicating. She needed him. She needed him now.

His lips followed his hand, kisses trailing down, down, down… She gasped as she felt his mouth run over her breast, his tongue rolling around her nipple, while his fingers still rubbed her sensitive nub. Slowly. Too fucking slowly!

Growing impatient, Violette fumbled to unhook the buckle of his belt. With only one hand, the task proved to be harder than she had expected. She let out a frustrated groan.

Samson chuckled. “Here, let me give you a— Let me help you.”

She pouted. “I don’t need your help.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’re a master of getting people naked with only one hand.”

“I could have done it if it wasn’t my dominant hand I was missing,” she mumbled as he dropped his pants down to his knees.

“Of course, you could.”

She grabbed his growing erection between her slender fingers with undisguised eagerness, starting to slide her hand up and down as he continued fondling her. He let out a low, guttural groan ending with something that sounded like her name.

“Take off your shirt,” she ordered him and he quickly obeyed her, throwing it on the floor like garbage.

She gave him an appraised look, her eyes travelling over the ripples of his scarred muscles and stopping on his hard cock. She bit on her lower lip with excitement, running her hand through the dark hair on his chest and down the trail that led to his member. She tried to grasp it again, but Samson had a different plan.

Hiking her skirt up to gain better access to her, he pushed her down over Orlais. He slid his hands between her thighs, massaging them softly before spreading them wide. Her legs rested in the crook of his elbows, dangling helplessly as she waited for him to fill her up completely. As she laid on the table, flushed and opened to him like an offering to the Maker, Samson stood fully erect above her, tall and powerful. His hooded eyes glinted with unrestrained desire, marvelling at her partial nudity.

His voice came out in a low, husky growl. “Maker, you look beautiful like this.”

“Fuck me,” she commanded him once more.

He eased into her slowly at first, with the care of a gentle lover, before slamming his hips against her, drawing a sharp gasp from her. He waited for a moment as they both revelled in the familiar sensation of fullness that enveloped them. She loved the feeling of him inside of her, of his cock pulsing with desire for her. Then he started moving again, back and forth, as she leaned her head back with a sigh.

He alternated teasing, shallow strokes with deep, hard, unforgiving thrusts. This wild rhythm always drove her mad. He would take her all the way to the edge before slowing down, letting her euphoria drop just enough to leave her wanting before taking her back to the brink again. And she loved it. She couldn’t get enough of it, knowing that the resulting climax would be that much more intense the longer they could hold it. And in the past few years, Samson had become really good at giving her exactly what she needed when she needed it. Having a regular partner came with a few considerable advantages after all.

As he bent down to kiss her again, Violette wrapped her right arm around his neck to keep him close. She could feel the pulses of his heart through his chest, faster and faster, echoing her own wild beats. They were both panting and sweating with the exertion of denying themselves their sweet release. So Violette bucked her hips against his, meeting his thrusts and guiding him into a new rhythm.

“Getting impatient, Inquisitor?”

“I’m not… Inquisitor… anymore,” she managed to let out between ragged breaths.

Sliding a hand behind her back to keep her pressed against him, Samson pulled her up with him as he straightened himself. He was edging closer too, she could see it in his eyes, feel it in the way his fingers dug into her thigh. He was no longer teasing her. He was fucking her in earnest, almost lifting her off the table completely as he bounced her around his cock. There was a silent question in his eyes and she offered him a quick nod in return, signalling her own incoming orgasm. He sped up the pace, pounding into her harder, hitting her sweet spot with each thrust. They came together, their moans echoing in unison. Violette fell back onto the table, breathless, her body shaking with the intensity of her climax.

“I— Thank you,” she breathed, still shivering. “I think I needed this.”

Samson bent down to kiss her. “You’re welcome.”

He slid out of her gently and leaned next to her against the table to catch his breath. She rose onto her elbow and smiled at him.

“So,” she said. “Was there a reason you came looking for me or were you just horny?”

He let out a sudden laugh. “Honestly, I can’t remember,” he answered before kissing her again.

#still taking more prompts if anyone's interested #dragon age #dragon age: inquisition #raleigh samson #the inquisitor #samson x inquisitor #violette surana #fanfiction #my fics #lemon #pairing: samlette #sad mages worldstate

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gothsic · 5 years

Text

meta: “marie” - annie kaye.

the tragedy of annie kaye is that she really was just a child when it happened.

the truth was that she simply did not know any better - but loneliness and impulsiveness will truly prevent a person’s judgment from being stellar, to say the least. she was young and intensely analytical, the type of person who spent her days, even as a child, dissecting people she found fascinating. but connecting with others was rather difficult for her - and her best friend, christina, was the only person with whom she held a steady friendship.

still... annie could not deny the constant ache in her heart, the hollow pit that took the place of her stomach. it simply would not go away, and at times it felt as though that pain was going to overflow, and eventually consume her until there was nothing left.

but that was before she met jo.

annette kaye was the type of girl who would sit quietly in the back of the classroom, the one who was often ignored. still, she had an intimidating presence that could easily deter others - this was unintentional, and it left her feeling isolated, unable to figure out how to fix it. her home life, with a frequently absent father and a lackadaisical mother, was certainly not helpful either.

in high school, that was when things changed. she found something interesting, something worth dissecting. that person, of course, was jonathan vastielle - the artist who seemed to be an endless puzzle to put together and take apart until there was nothing left. he had friends, yet seemed to push people away. he was friendly, yet simultaneously not. a jokester that hid a great deal of anger the more she dove deeper into everything she could find - by him and about him. anything and everything.

he became an obsession for her young and hungry mind. she simply could not stop - she checked constantly, reading through everything he said and did. watching videos. reading his work. doing everything in her power to put together a psychological profile - albeit an amateurish one. but after a while, that too was not enough. she had to kick things into second gear fast, or else she would have to face her pain, the loneliness creeping up on her quicker than ever before.

and so, the e-mails started. she decided to assume the persona of one marie samson, a mysterious woman who would confront him using gestalt therapy tactics, all at age 14. find the key points, and nail him - that was her strategy. why? not simply because she was bored, but because she desperately wanted to fix something; as her parents’ marriage was failing and her social life was deteriorating the more she dove deeper as an escape, the more she wanted this more than anything else. marie samson became a comfort character for her, through which she confronted him about his fakeness. that he was, in reality, an angry man.

though he did not respond at first, annie kept persisting - eventually asking the killer question that brought him to her in the first place: that he was an open book masquerading as a mystery. she provided evidence, and it floored him - where had she learned this stuff, he wondered? he was, after all, a private person. so, he took the bait.

...and responded. under a proxy, of course - lest he be caught. how did you find that out? he’d asked her, in no uncertain terms. she responded in kind: your books. your show. it’s everywhere: your hatred towards your father, your mother having vanished before your very eyes. i’m certain it hurts - not the memory, but the anger. she wrote not like someone her age, but twice it - though he did not know it at the time.

simply put, he was hooked. she was a horrifying drug, one that pierced the brain. she was someone who exposed him for who he was - though terrifying and abhorrent on some levels. there was no denying that she was intriguing. their relationship over the internet was kept up for several years, as annie continued her performance as marie into her 17th year.

that was when she found out about adri swann.

it really happened suddenly. she saw her in passing on his social media - a woman who was in her late 20s, and looked almost identical to her. it was pretty easy to determine that the two were dating - holding hands, having drinks together, the usual things couples did were posted on her instagram. annie was, needless to say, horrified. she saw the opportunity as a moment to completely black out everything, and vanish. finding out about adri changed everything. though the situation at home was getting worse and her college years were looming, what better option was there?

he was dating her doppelganger. things had become frighteningly clear.

annie left without a word, and jonathan was undeniably confused by her disappearance. he, of course, never told adri or his other friends anything about her. how could he? she was his little secret. he tried to reach out to her, but there was no answer.her e-mail was deleted, and anything that he could have possibly found to contact her was gone or privatized. no matter what he did, he simply could not communicate with her. she was really, and truly, gone.

jonathan, however, did not stop his chase for her. he kept looking, and looking. he only knew that she was called marie samson - but he had secretly kept all her e-mails. there had to be a way to track her. and lo and behold, after much scouring on the dark web, there was.

annette kaye, currently a senior at usc, majoring in screenwriting. she lived with her parents still, and looked slightly different from before. and unfortunately for annie, she was not careful enough to keep her records from being leaked online - it truly is difficult to do so in this connected age. within days of beginning his obsessive search, he found her phone number; somehow, it was listed. what an exciting day. his heart was pounding.

what a disgusting man. he ought to be fucking skinned alive for what he was about to. but he did it anyway.

he reached out. he wrote to her. it’s jo. i need you.

20 year old annie was freshly starting her senior year when she received this strange message. she thought she had managed to forget about him, or at least prevent herself from thinking about him on the daily - that was the struggle, really. but he always did manage to creep into her interpersonal relationships, even though she had certainly improved on that front since then. part of her felt that she had still not fully gotten over that time. when she read that message from him for the first time, her blood ran cold.

but it excited her too, sent her pulse racing. and how ashamed she felt. she gave it a day or two before she decided that she would respond - against her better judgment, of course. what the fuck is wrong with you? she wrote earnestly. she meant it, too. are you an actual moron contacting me like this?

so began their second stream of communication, even if annie believed she was strong enough to resist the temptation.

at this point, the two were communicating over a text messaging app that would automatically destroy messages within 5 seconds. his idea, lest he be caught. annie agreed, if only because it was exhilarating. she was so attracted to him, so hooked herself - even if she loathed herself, seeing him for the scum he truly was underneath that beautiful exterior of altruism. though disgusted with the fact that he was seeing adri while still talking to her, things were about to take a turn for the strange. stranger than strange, in fact.

he asked for a meeting. he wanted to talk to her one-on-one without the barriers of technology. and, perhaps disappointingly for you, reader, she agreed - if only to satisfy her curiosity ( and because part of her was still dominated by the excitement of cracking the mystery ).

that night would become the first and last time jonathan ever truly saw annie kaye in the flesh; not as jonathan vastielle, but as jonathan velazquez. they met at a park at around 2 in the morning, where most people were not going to look. he knew her the second he saw her getting out of her car, wearing loose fitted clothes and now sporting straightened brown hair; not the blonde she once had. still, he was stunned, amazed. what was he doing? what was she doing? this was utterly mad.

they didn’t have much to say to each other at first other than jonathan making the occasional quip and annie looking away in horrified anxiety. the night sky was polluted, not a star in sight. the wind, unusually chilly. every breeze that went through the miniscule holes of her sweater seemed to freeze her ever the more, keep her paralyzed. the only thing thawing her was her rapidly beating heart.

but then jonathan asked to touch her face. he asked, the motherfucker. how dare he? naturally, this enraged her - marie samson emerged once again, but an enraged marie; perhaps the self annie had been suppressing all this time. she yelled at him, berated him, called him a pig and a scumbag. she wasted so much FUCKING TIME ON HIM! somehow, that idiotic question was enough to send her flying into an emotional outburst, releasing all the animosity she had held against him for the past few years.

jonathan merely listened to her, hanging on to every word. all he could truly comprehend was that she was there next to him - in the flesh, tangible. he wished to feel the softness of her youthful cheeks, wipe away the tears that were now flowing down them - not because he did not want to see her sadness, but to look at him; and only him. as long as she liked him, or on some stretch, loved him unconditionally, then it would be fine.

right?

annie’s outburst resulted in her grabbing the collar of his sweater, looking right into his eyes, teeth gritted. she was overflowing with rage, hatred, and each nanoangstrom of disgust that could possibly fill her body. he too looked back at her, stunned. what was happening here? the two were silent, staring at each other - two terrified animals.

then, he asked her the same question again. this time, she did not respond - paralyzed in place by the depths of his eyes that seemed to spell a twisted abyss with no end in sight. a hypnotizing and horrifying darkness that was so palpable, she swore she saw herself reflected back in them. a true wolf.

the rest you can unfortunately imagine. that was what annie wanted in the moment, what jonathan wanted in the moment. she caved in to her loneliness, despite the rage flowing inside her. she let him touch her, despite how it felt simultaneously strange and wonderful - touch her every which way, in fact. but the thing that she would not let him do in public, at least, was kiss her.

that was reserved for his car.

you can probably imagine what happened next - perhaps it makes your blood boil. maybe you even feel sick thinking about it. i certainly hope you do - but not because of annie, but because jonathan did something he should not have done. while he had done out of complete and utter animalistic passion which could only be defined as a ravenous hunger for her, annie had done it out of her desire to connect with someone else. she wanted it too... or did she? in the moment, she could not tell - and perhaps part of her simply did not care. in the end, she had never truly gotten over her loneliness. her brain told her that she let it happen. that was how she felt, anyway. the shame washed over her during the entire encounter.

and just as quickly as it happened, it ended.

annie said nothing to him, and simply vacated the car. she loathed herself, and merely walked back to her own car. for what felt like hours, she stared out the window in front of her; he doing the same, from the looks of it. but she was not really looking at him - she was staring off into the distance, at her reflection - which she could never truly escape. it truly was judgmental stare it was giving her. the shame was certainly not going to go away soon.

but... life must go on. after some time, she simply took a deep breath, collected herself, and started the car. she drove normally back onto the highway, and off to her home despite how weak her body felt. why did she feel both pleasure and pain simultaneously? no. she knew the answer, and it was enough to make her SCREAM. and scream, she fucking did. oh, did she scream.

that was the moment she made the decision to never see him again - for good this time. she would get her life on track. become someone. leave him behind to rot like the scum he was. he did not care for her, only what she could do for him - the only thing special about her was what she had done all those years ago. and she certainly did not want to give it to him. she never could - because he was a void. an empty fucking void.

after their encounter, jonathan simply never heard from annie again. he tried to contact her, of course, but this was for naught. whenever adri saw him pensive, he did not respond to her. things began to become a blur for him, even though he acted the part of the man who had it altogether - or at least, relatively altogether.

while jonathan was undergoing the sleep experiment at the yamashirogumi group, adri was putting together her documentary on him and his chronic insomnia. in her investigation, which eventually made her change the subject of the documentary into a straight character study of jonathan himself, she found out about annie - and tracked her down herself. when the two women met for the first time, it was truly a traumatizing moment. adri was horrified, but annie had unfortunately been dreading the possibility of them meeting for years. still, they managed to remain cordial - and annie told adri her story in excruciating detail, on one condition.

that her name be omitted. she wanted to be referred only as m. and nothing more than that, if she was to move on, she had to do it by cleaning her slate and pushing past what happened. adri agreed, and the rest is history.

to this day, jonathan still watches her in vain. annie has no interest in doing anything with him - in fact, she’s trying to repair her relationships and move forward into a brighter future while still acknowledging that what happened to her, unfortunately, happened. she is trying to be stronger and deal with her pain in a productive way.

to her, there is simply no other way to win.

#YOU COULD NEVER UNDERSTAND ME! NOT IN A MILLION GODDAMN YEARS! - META.#( im expanding on the situation with annie because )#( i purposefully left it out of the about; i felt implications were enough )#( so this is what happened. the nitty gritty )#( it is unfortunately triggering so read at your own risk )#( keep in mind i dont write this content on this blog in the form of rp because fuck no )#( however this is really important to understand whats going on w him and his obsession with annie on a more )#( detailed level i guess )#( again; i dont support this shit its fucking nasty )#( but jo is unfortunately very nasty )#( surprise... lol... )#( btw i am never writing this shit in any fucking rp thread so lets reiterate that )#( you can skip this one! its just for people interested )#( but dear god its done )#( finally )#( ill be posting the link to this in my about as well for ppl who wanna read it later )#( read at ur own risk!! let me reiterate )

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pikapeppa · 5 years

Text

Fenris/f!Hawke and the Inquisition: Uncertainty

Chapter 33 of Lovers In A Dangerous Time (i.e. Fenris the Inquisitor) is up on AO3!

In which Fenris chit-chats with Cullen and has some tricky chats with Cassandra, Blackwall, and Hawke.

Read here on AO3; ~ 7000 words.

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

Cullen paced slowly behind his desk. “Destroying the Red Templar operations at the quarry was good work,” he said to Fenris and Hawke. “The letters you found from Samson are helpful; they make it clear that destroying his armour would be a worthwhile goal.” He frowned thoughtfully at the papers on his desk. “It seems that Samson has found a way to take advantage of the enhancing qualities of red lyrium while warding off its ill effects.”

Fenris nodded slowly. “Its protective effects sound similar to the charms that Dagna developed for the Inquisition.”

“Exactly,” Cullen said. “If Dagna was able to make our protective charms, perhaps she can find a way to un-make the protection on Samson’s armour.” He folded his arms, and his lip was curled with disdain as he spoke. “I for one am looking forward to seeing Samson humbled when next we engage him.”

“Oh dear, the commander seeking revenge? Be still, my beating heart.” Hawke pulled a little face and seated herself comfortably on Cullen’s desk.

Cullen frowned at her. “This is a serious matter, Hawke. You recall how he was in Kirkwall. You’ve seen firsthand how far he’s fallen.”

“That’s the odd bit, though,” she said. “I’m still not clear how he got to be such a powerful figure in Corytit’s army.”

“Fenris and I were talking about that some time ago,” Cullen said with a nod. “It bewilders me as well that he found his way to become Corypheus’s right-hand man.”

“Right?” Hawke said. She swung her feet idly as she spoke. “Leadership wasn’t exactly in the cards for the Samson we knew back in Kirkwall. He always seemed a bit of an idiot, even without the lyrium addiction.” She looked at Fenris. “He was rather pathetic, no? I even felt bad for him at first.”

Fenris shrugged noncommittally. Hawke smiled and poked him in the ribs. “I know, I know, you never cared for him.”

“He assisted apostates to escape the city,” Fenris said. “That was enough to earn my ire at the time.”

Hawke playfully rolled her eyes. “Ah yes, dreaded apostates. You could never come around to associating with one of those.” She batted her eyelashes at him.

Fenris gave her a chiding smirk, and Cullen cleared his throat. “Samson’s downfall was certainly a sharp one,” he said. “When I first arrived in Kirkwall, he and I shared quarters. He seemed a decent man at first. Meredith later expelled Samson for—”

Hawke gasped suddenly and snapped her fingers. “–for carrying love letters between a mage and his lover! I remember now,” she exclaimed. Then she scoffed in disgust. “Classic case of Mad Meredith making a mountain out of a molehill.” She twisted her lips ruefully. “Samson really was rather friendly to the mages, wasn’t he? In a selfish sort of way. Well, right until he changed his mind about them during that whole anti-Meredith conspiracy.”

Cullen grunted in acknowledgement. “You raise a fair point. He was not a principled man. He claimed to have the heart of a Templar, but he was loyal to himself over all else.”

“Not to himself,” Fenris said quietly. “To the lyrium. That is what he craved more than anything else.”

Neither Cullen nor Hawke replied to that, and there was a beat of awkward silence. Then Hawke tilted her head. “How are you doing by the way, Cullen? You look good. Very healthy and handsome.”

Cullen nodded politely to her. “I’m doing well, Hawke. Thank you for asking.” He smiled faintly at Fenris. They had played chess together for the first time last night. The match was unusually long and gruelling, but Fenris had ultimately lost.

Fenris gave Cullen a rueful smirk, then returned to the topic at hand. “It does strike me as odd that Samson rose through the ranks enough to gain Corypheus’s attention.”

“Yes,” Hawke agreed. “I wasn’t aware that he was reinstated to the Templars.”

“He wasn’t,” Cullen said grimly. “Not to my knowledge, in any case, and I was the one who oversaw the consequences of that whole debacle with Grace and Ser Thrask.”

“That’s right, you were,” Hawke said. She smiled ruefully. “Simpler times, no?”

“I must disagree, actually,” Cullen said. “In Kirkwall…” He trailed off and sat slowly in his chair. “Things became so complicated by the end. Realizing that the Knight-Commander’s judgment truly was impaired, and that everything I’d stood for was twisted by her corruption… It was a difficult pill to swallow.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment. “I am much more certain of my place here. I can be confident that my duty with the Inquisition is just. Thanks in no small part to Cassandra, and to you,” he said to Fenris. He looked at Hawke. “To both of you.”

Fenris managed a small half-smile, but there was a wistful pang in his chest. Life might be simpler for Cullen now, but Fenris agreed with Hawke: for him, life had been simpler in Kirkwall. In Kirkwall, they faced dangers every day, but the dangers had lower stakes. Back in Kirkwall, the fate of the world wasn’t balancing on Hawke’s shoulders with every decision she made, and most of the tasks she chose to take on were just that: a choice. There was less uncertainty back then, since they were less aware of just how much they didn’t know about lyrium and spirits and demons and the Fade.

Most importantly for Fenris, he had not been in charge of the decisions back in Kirkwall. Every scrap of trouble that fell on Hawke’s shoulders, every conflict that she was unwittingly asked to mediate: Fenris was there, but it wasn’t his decision. And it wasn’t until he and Hawke had stumbled into the Inquisition that he’d realized what a privilege it was to not be in charge.

Hawke’s sunny voice broke him from his thoughts. “Aw, Cullen, no need to butter us up. We already like you.”

Cullen bashfully rubbed the back of his neck. “Thank you, Hawke. That’s very kind.” He cleared his throat, then rose from his chair. “I understand you’ll be departing for the Emerald Graves in a few days’ time?”

“Yes,” Fenris said. “We will clear the Venatori from the ruins. We’ll ensure they reap no further knowledge that Corypheus could use.”

“And we’ll get a tome’s worth of new bedtime stories from Solas, I’m sure,” Hawke added with relish. “I can imagine it already: his lovely bald head shining from the campfire while he tells us ghost stories about the elven ruins…”

Fenris shook his head in amusement as she hopped off of Cullen’s desk, and Cullen followed them to the door. “A good plan,” he said. “Perhaps Dagna will have some ideas about Samson’s armour upon your return.”

Fenris nodded. Just before following Hawke out the door, he turned back to Cullen once more. “Care for a rematch tonight?”

Cullen chuckled. “All right. You’re on. Until later, then.” He gave Hawke a polite half-bow, then retreated into his office.

Hawke took his hand as they made their way along the battlements. There was a tiny curl of a smile on her face, but when she didn’t speak for a few moments, Fenris gave her a quizzical look. “What?”

She looked up at him and squeezed his hand. “You and Cullen bonding. The two most handsome men in Skyhold being friends.” She fanned herself playfully. “The girls in the kitchen are all aflutter at the thought of you playing chess together. I heard them talking this morning when I went to fetch some scones.”

Fenris grunted. “Perhaps we should find somewhere more private to play. The dungeons, perhaps.”

“Don’t you dare!” she exclaimed. “You’re raising morale by playing in the Great Hall where all the insomniacs can ogle at you.”

Fenris ran a hand through his hair. “Fasta vass.”

She laughed and squeezed his hand, then released him. “All right, handsome, I’ve got to meet Dorian in the library. I promised him I’d help him search for something. I’ll see you later?”

He nodded, and she pecked him on the cheek before skipping away. Fenris, meanwhile, made his way toward the annex to speak with Cassandra.

She and the others had returned from Caer Oswin a day before Fenris had come back from Emprise du Lion. She’d given her report on the Seekers’ goings-on at the war table just this morning, but as they were leaving the room, she’d sidled up beside him.

“Fenris,” she said quietly. “When you have a moment, I would like to show you something. A tome I obtained from Lord Seeker Lucius.”

He raised his eyebrows. “A tome? Of what nature?”

She hesitated. “It is best if you see it for yourself, I think,” she said. “I… truth be told, I would be glad of your opinion.”

Her brow was furrowed more than usual, and Fenris tried to push aside a fresh wave of concern. If Cassandra’s tome was time-sensitive or critical to the Inquisition’s goals, she would have mentioned it to the advisors as well.

He nodded. “Of course. I will find you this afternoon,” he said.

And so it was that he stepped into the annex, then padded his way up the stairs to find Cassandra sitting at a table poring over a very thick tome bound in cracked black leather.

He slowly approached her table. “I hope your tome contains more intrigue than the last chapter of Swords and Shields 2,” he said.

She looked up at him, a small smile cracking the frown on her face. “You read the last chapter?”

Fenris shrugged and sat in the chair opposite her. “I have been known to proofread Varric’s work at times. I’m uncertain why he asks me, though. He knows I do not like this serial.”

Cassandra’s smile widened. Then she looked down at the tome and gently stroked its pages. “This tome was passed from Lord Seeker to Lord Seeker since the time of the old Inquisition,” she said. “And now it falls to me.”

Fenris looked at the tome in surprise. That explained why it looked so old.

“I take it your readings have yielded something disturbing?” he said.

She opened her mouth, then hesitated before speaking. “It speaks of the Rite of Tranquility. I assume you have experience with this from Kirkwall, beyond the Tranquil who live among us now.”

Fenris frowned. “I know of it, yes. It is used to strip the powers of mages who are not strong enough to withstand the Harrowing.”

Cassandra nodded. “It should only be used on those who cannot control their abilities. But you know that has not always been the case. You would have seen the abuses that took place in Kirkwall’s Circle.”

Fenris leaned back and folded his arms. In his opinion, there were some mages in Kirkwall who may have served better as Tranquil; he privately still felt that Feynriel should have been taken to the Circle and put through a Harrowing, which he would undoubtedly have failed. But Fenris could also admit that the sheer number of mages being made Tranquil in the Kirkwall Circle couldn’t plausibly be justified.

“Go on,” he said.

Cassandra leaned forward in her chair. “You may not be aware of this, seeing as you and Hawke were on the run. But the incident in Kirkwall was not the true catalyst of the war between the mages and the Templars. What finally began the mage rebellion was the discovery that the Rite of Tranquility could be reversed.”

A jolt of shock straightened his spine. “What?”

Cassandra nodded. ‘The Lord Seeker at the time covered it up harshly. There were deaths. It was dangerous knowledge. The shock of its discovery, in addition to what happened in Kirkwall—”

“Of course it is dangerous knowledge,” Fenris said. He leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “If this was known in Kirkwall — if the mages in the Circle knew their most dangerous and volatile mages could be returned to their former uncontrolled erratic state? The sheer danger–”

“I know, Fenris,” Cassandra interrupted quietly. “These are the reasons why Lord Seeker Lambert covered it up.” She sighed and looked sadly at her tome. “But it appears we’ve always known how to reverse the Rite, from the beginning.”

Fenris stared at her for a moment. “You… you mean the Seekers? They have always known?”

She nodded slowly, then met his eyes. “We created the Rite of Tranquility,” she said quietly. “I told you of my vigil: the months I spent emptying myself all emotion? I was made Tranquil, and I did not even know.”

Fenris listened with growing perplexity as she went on. “The ritual summoned a spirit of faith to touch my mind. The spirit broke Tranquility and gave me my abilities.”

Fenris held up a hand. “That’s… no. That’s not logical,” he protested. “Tranquility is meant to render a mage immune to possession by demons. That is the entire point of the ritual.”

“It is meant to make them less attractive to demons, yes,” Cassandra confirmed. “But they are not immune. If the Tranquil were – if we were immune to spirits, then I would not be sitting before you as I am today.”

Fenris rubbed his mouth. Non-mages making themselves Tranquil, then being rescued from Tranquility by spirits… It went counter to everything Fenris thought he knew. For the umpteenth time, his understanding of the world was being flipped on its head, and he wasn’t sure how to respond.

I wish Hawke were here, he thought. Kaffas, I even wish Solas were here. If the process of reversing Tranquility relied on the involvement of spirits, then it was likely that Solas could elucidate.

Fenris lowered his hand. “This… reversal process,” he said. “How would it work in practice for the mages? How is it different than summoning demons?”

She pushed the book toward him. “I would invite you to read this yourself when you have the time,” she said. “It is explained here. But it is not a cure, not truly. Mages lose all control over their emotions. They become irrational, unable to focus.” She lifted her shoulders sadly. “Perhaps that state eventually passes and they can be helped, but it will take time to investigate.”

Fenris dragged a hand through his hair. Uncontrolled mages? Irrational mages who couldn’t be reasoned with? They were the main reason he had sworn never to return to Tevinter.

“Cassandra, I don’t like this,” he said. “If it is my opinion you wanted on this matter, my opinion is this: this knowledge is dangerous. Far too dangerous to disseminate with all the strife that is already going on.”

“It is dangerous, I know,” she said softly. “I would not want news of a cure to spread until we know for certain we can help these people. Once we have that, however? Then I will spread the word myself.”

Her determination was clear in the proud angle of her chin, and Fenris eyed her with rising agitation. “I hope I am no longer the Inquisitor when you decide to share that information,” he said.

She smiled at him as though he was joking. Fenris gently pushed the tome back toward her. “If you insist on following this course, you should speak with Hawke,” he said. “In our early days in Kirkwall, we witnessed a case of a mage for whom Tranquility seemed to… wear off temporarily. A friend of Anders’s,” he explained when Cassandra’s eyes widened. “This friend was unjustly made Tranquil, or so Anders said. But he was… unusual.” Fenris trailed off as he tried to remember the exact incident; the details were a little blurry now thanks to the passage of time and the blinding bloodrage from the fight, not to mention the nasty discovery that Anders was an abomination.

“There was an odd moment,” Fenris said. “A minute during which the Tranquil became himself once more, and he begged Anders to kill him. Then the state of Tranquility returned.”

Cassandra stared at him. Clearly she hadn’t heard this tale during her interrogations in Kirkwall, and Fenris couldn’t blame her; he and Hawke and their companions had killed all the Templars who had who gotten involved in that incident, much to Fenris’s disgruntlement.

“What happened to the Tranquil?” Cassandra asked.

“He is dead,” Fenris said. “A mercy killing.”

Cassandra gazed at him for a moment longer, then slowly sat back in her chair. “I see,” she said. “I was not aware of that. I will make a note to ask around about similar cases. When we are not occupied with our duties against Corypheus, of course.”

Fenris nodded, then started to rise from the table. “If that is all...”

“Oh – in fact, I…” She trailed off as Fenris looked at her. “That’s – that is not all. I was hoping to speak to you of something else.”

Fenris sat down again, and Cassandra rubbed her hands together slowly before speaking. “I… I had thought to rebuild the Seekers once victory was ours. Now I’m not certain the Seekers deserve to be rebuilt.”

Fenris tilted his head. “What makes you say that?”

She blew out a gusty breath, then rose from the table to pace slowly by the window. “I do not think the Seekers have been doing the Maker’s work,” she said. “Not truly. Perhaps we believed it, once. The original Inquisition came to be during a terrible time. But now?” She shook her head ruefully. “We harboured secrets and let them fester. We acted to survive, but not to serve. That is not the Maker’s work.”

He eyed her apprehensively. This was a terrible time. Perhaps the other Seekers had lost their way, but Cassandra had not. Did she not think the Inquisition’s work was justified?

“What do you believe the Maker’s work to be?” he said.

“There is no way to know for certain,” she said. “That is why we must seek it out. Perhaps we lost our way because we stopped looking.”

More uncertainty, he thought morosely. He rested his elbows wearily on the table. “You are a more patient person than I,” he said. “I prefer to act than to live on that fine edge of uncertainty.”

She stopped her pacing and looked at him. “That is not true. You have thought deeply about every decision you have made here, every step of the way. The conversations you have had with me, with Hawke, with Solas… You have thought deeply about our purpose here.” She twisted her fingers together once more. “It is why I had hoped to speak of this with you.”

He stared her in bemusement as she started to pace again. “At some point, power becomes its own master. We cast aside ideals in favour of experience and tell ourselves it was necessary, for the people.” She turned to look at him again. “Will that happen to us, Fenris? Will we repeat history?”

He rubbed his mouth again. He genuinely wasn’t sure what to tell her. Cassandra was a woman of faith, and that faith had been the guiding light in her life. It seemed that she was having something of a crisis of faith, and Fenris felt like the least qualified person to help her through this.

Another small jolt of sadness struck his chest as he studied her stern but hopeful face. He knew why Cassandra was really asking him this. Despite their friendship, and despite everything he’d told her and the others about the truths they’d learned in the Fade, Cassandra still saw him as the Herald of Andraste. She still saw his involvement in all of this as a result of the Maker’s will.

It was the Inquisitor that Cassandra wanted to speak with now, not Fenris.

He sighed internally and pushed aside his genuine answer, which was a hearty I-don’t-know. “We can’t promise not to repeat the past,” he told her. “But we are learning more of it every day.” He gestured at the book on the table. “This tome of yours shows mistakes that you will not repeat. The Grey Wardens, the red Templars… they are cautionary tales, and we’re doing our best to heed them.” He sat back and folded his hands in his lap. “That is all we can hope for, is it not? To push forward and try not to repeat the mistakes of those around us.”

She nodded slowly as he spoke, then sat at the table once more. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, that’s true.” She was quiet for a moment, then she smiled at him. “I will think on your words, Fenris. Thank you.”

He waved her off. “There is no need for thanks. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to accompany you to Caer Oswin.”

“Please, do not worry about that,” she said with a dismissive wave of her own. “In the future, however, remind me not to bring Cole, Solas, and Sera out again. It was not a restful journey.”

Fenris smirked at this. “Ah. No, I imagine it wasn’t. Sera was disgruntled, I imagine?”

“You imagine correctly,” she said. “I have never suffered so much complaining in my life.”

Fenris chuckled, then rose from the table. “Unfortunate, then, that I was planning on bringing them to the Emerald Graves.”

Cassandra snorted. “If that is the case, Maker guide your path, Inquisitor.”

Fenris smiled at her, then took his leave. But by the time he’d reached the ground floor of the annex, his momentary levity had dissolved back into worry, primarily about the Tranquility ritual.

He made his way to Dorian’s usual spot in the library. Dorian was lounging in his large padded chair, and Hawke was cozily seated on the armrest with her bare feet resting in Dorian’s lap. There was an open book on her knees, and they seemed to be deep in the midst of a magical discussion.

“... and that’s what adds to the pattern of stability across the entire network,” Hawke was saying. “But my father always taught it more as a matter of feeling than as a formula.”

Dorian lazily waved his hand. “As you charming southerners would say, there’s more than one way to skin a cat. I would argue that the formulaic method results in a finer, less… roughened feel to the barrier, shall we say.”

Hawke gave him a flat look and poked him in the arm. “You were going to say ‘barbaric’, weren’t you? You are such a smug Vint.”

Dorian grinned at her, then looked up as Fenris approached. “Ah look, the Inquisitor graces us with his presence!” he announced. “You can settle an argument for us. Whose barrier do you prefer: mine or Hawke’s? Now, before you answer–”

“Hawke’s,” Fenris said. He looked at her. “I need to speak to you for a moment.”

Her eyebrows rose. “All right.” She hopped off of Dorian’s chair, and Dorian snorted in disdain.

“Nepotism,” he said loftily. “That’s what this is. An objective observer would agree that my barrier has a certain finish that’s far more pleasant.”

“Your barrier does have a certain finish,” Fenris said. “Like a cloying perfume, almost. It makes my eyes water.”

Dorian scoffed and inspected his nails. “Well, now you’re just trying to wound me.”

Fenris smirked, then led Hawke out of the library and onto the battlements that ringed the tower. He glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot, then leaned his elbows on the battlements and jumped into the problem without preamble. “Cassandra told me something disturbing,” he said quietly. “She said the Seekers created the Rite of Tranquility, and they have known how to reverse it all along.”

Hawke’s jaw dropped in shock. “You’re shitting me.”

“No,” Fenris said. “From what she described, every Seeker becomes Tranquil in the course of their initiation. They enter a meditative state to empty themselves of emotion. Then the state of Tranquility is undone when… when a spirit of faith touches their minds.”

Hawke’s eyes grew larger as Fenris spoke. “Wait. So… so they become Tranquil on purpose?”

Fenris nodded, and Hawke leaned back against the battlements. “That’s fucking insane. Who would voluntarily do that?” she demanded.

Fenris shrugged helplessly. “Seekers, it seems. Though it seems they are also unaware that that’s what they are doing. Regardless, the Rite of Tranquility can be undone.” He took a deep breath. “And Cassandra intends to spread the news of this cure when the time is right.”

Hawke’s expression lifted with surprise — and delight, as Fenris had expected. “Well, that’s fantastic!” she said. “Imagine if we could cure all the Inquisition’s Tranquil! They could be themselves again–”

Fenris held up a hand in warning. “They don’t return to the way they were. Cassandra says the Tranquil mages who are cured become… overly emotional. Irrational and uncontrolled.” He turned to face her. “I don’t want this knowledge getting out, Hawke. I don’t like it.”

She frowned. “Did you tell Cassandra not to say anything?”

“No,” Fenris said.

Hawke raised her eyebrows in surprise, and Fenris continued. “I trust that she will not say anything until she believes the cure is safe, and not until after Corypheus is defeated. But even then…” He ran a hand through his hair and began to pace. “The risks of trying to help these Tranquil – of them regaining their powers without knowing if they can control them? Uncontrolled magic flaring freely at a mage’s every whim…” Memories from the Imperium flashed through his mind, moments where mages had lashed out in anger or revenge or for the sheer pleasure of exerting their power, and a shiver of revulsion ran down his spine.

He looked at Hawke. “There is a reason that the Rite of Tranquility is used in the Circles.”

“Yes, and it’s a shitty reason,” Hawke said. Her voice was suddenly hard. “‘Hello, Circle mage, here are your choices: face a demon all by yourself, or have your entire personality erased.’ Fenris, I…” She clamped her lips shut and looked away.

Fenris frowned. “Speak, Hawke. You don’t need to mince your words with me.”

She looked at him for a moment, then folded her arms. “Fine. I just can’t believe you still think there are circumstances where making someone Tranquil is a good thing,” she said fiercely. “Imagine if it was me. Imagine if I was stripped of everything that made life worth living. I wouldn’t even love you anymore! I – there would be nothing left of me for you to love.”

He swallowed. The thought of Hawke as a Tranquil made his stomach lurch. “I know that. But–”

“Imagine if we had a child who was a mage,” Hawke went on ruthlessly. “Imagine if our imaginary child was in a fucking Circle and they were too scared to go through the Harrowing. Would you be willing to see a child of ours get turned into an unfeeling, uncaring–”

“No,” Fenris snapped. “That is not what I would want.” He looked away from her and rubbed his face.

Hawke was quiet for a moment. Then she stepped closer to him. “You knew how I would feel about this,” she said gently. “Why… I mean, was there something else...?”

He shrugged and plucked at the red scarf on his wrist. In truth, he had been hoping that speaking with Hawke would help to calm the jittery feeling that was roiling in his chest. But perhaps it was unfair to place his problems on her shoulders when he was growing weary of others doing the same to him.

He shook his head. “No. It was just this. I… I thought you should know. But don’t tell anyone else,” he said warningly. “The fallout from making this public is more than I can bear to deal with right now.” He stepped away from the battlements.

She took his arm to stop him. “Hey,” she said softly. She reached up and stroked the line of his jaw.

Fenris swallowed hard, then met her gaze. She studied his face in silence for a moment, then stepped close and wrapped her arms around his neck.

She hugged him tightly and pressed her lips to his cheek, then to his ear. “This shit is weird, isn’t it?” she whispered.

He scoffed quietly. “Yes, it is,” he said. He wrapped his arms around her and tucked his face against her neck.

They stood quietly on the battlements for some time, and Fenris focused on the mountain air filling his lungs and the solid warmth of Hawke’s body. When she eventually leaned away from him, it was with a smile on her face. “Every day is a new adventure, right?” she said brightly. “I don’t know about you, but I love learning new things. Who knows what new strange thing we’ll find out tomorrow?”

He smirked and shook his head. Her smile was cheeky, but her whiskey-coloured eyes were warm with sympathy even though she disagreed with him, and he loved her for it.

He tipped her chin up and kissed her gently on the lips. “Go back to Dorian,” he murmured. “I will see you tonight.”

She smiled and gave him a wink, then slipped back into the library. Fenris rested his palms on the battlements and took one more bracing breath, then headed back into the library and down the stairs.

He had an hour or so before he had to meet with Josephine to deal with a new batch of irritating political problems. He headed for the training grounds, figuring that Bull and the Chargers would likely be there, but instead he found Blackwall studying the rack of training weapons with a morose look on his face.

He looked up at Fenris’s approach. “Fenris,” he said with a small half-bow. “Would you care to train with me?”

“I would,” Fenris said. He selected a greatsword from the rack while Blackwall picked out a sword and shield, and they stepped into the training ring together.

Fenris watched and waited until Blackwall rushed at him. Fenris parried his sword strikes, then dodged Blackwall’s attempted shield bash and swung his greatsword toward the back of Blackwall’s leg.

They froze with Fenris’s greatsword’s blade an inch from Blackwall’s thigh. “Well done,” Blackwall said. “Your point.” He smiled briefly, then stepped back.

Fenris nodded and waited once again. Blackwall rushed forward, but this time he dodged to the side as Fenris raised his greatsword, forcing Fenris to clumsily jerk away from the swing of his sword. A handful of heartbeats later, they froze in a draw with the blade of Blackwall’s sword alongside his neck and the length of the greatsword along Blackwall’s belly.

They froze again, then stepped apart. “Are you all right?” Fenris panted. Blackwall’s strikes were weaker than usual, almost as though his heart wasn’t in it.

“I’m fine,” Blackwall said. He settled into a ready stance again.

They met once more with a clash of blunted steel. A minute later, however, Fenris managed to catch Blackwall off balance, which was almost unheard of for the burly warrior.

Blackwall chuckled and shook his head as he stepped back. “Maker’s balls. Strange how rusty you can get after two days of rest.” He lifted his shield once more. “Again?”

Fenris lowered his sword. “Not when you are barely making this a challenge for me,” he said. “There is something on your mind. I can feel it in the weakness of your strikes.”

Blackwall sighed and rubbed his beard. “Damn it,” he muttered. He looked up at Fenris. “It’s… nothing, really. I was just…” He trailed off.

Fenris made his way over to the fence of the training ring and waited for Blackwall to collect his thoughts. Finally Blackwall spoke. “I was thinking about a time when I was a boy,” he said. “There were these urchins who roamed the streets near my father’s house. One day, they found a dog: a wretched little thing. It came to them for food. They caught it, tied a rope around its neck, and strung it up.” He looked at Fenris. “Do you know what I did?”

Fenris frowned slightly, and Blackwall lowered his head. “I did nothing. Not a damn thing.” He rubbed his face. “It was crying. I saw the kicking legs, the neck straining and twisting… and I turned around, went inside, and closed the door.” He sighed. “I could’ve told my father or alerted someone. I didn’t. I just… pretended it wasn’t happening. I may as well have tightened the noose myself.”

Fenris eyed him cautiously. “What makes you think of this now?” he asked. “If it is guilt for that little dog, I can ask Toby to step away.” Fenris gestured to the mabari, who was sitting just outside the training ring and panting happily.

Blackwall huffed. “Of course you’d make light of it. You make saving the world look easy. The rest of us can only dream of matching what you’ve done.”

Fenris wilted slightly. As much as he enjoyed Blackwall’s down-to-earth company, it was always wearying to be reminded that the Warden saw him as a hero, particularly since Fenris absolutely did not feel like one.

He leaned back against the fence of the training ring. “Nothing is easy,” he said bluntly. “And it is not about matching up to whatever you think I have done. It is… you do what you can,” he said. “You were trying to teach farmer’s sons to protect themselves from bandits when we first met. You’ve spent years fighting darkspawn. None of that was easy.” He shrugged. “Whatever you might have done or not done in the past, you’re no longer a small boy who walks away.”

Blackwall released a heavy sigh. “That’s the difficulty, isn’t it?” he said sadly. “There’s always some dog out there. Some fucking mongrel that doesn’t know how to stay away.”

Fenris nodded slowly. “That is true. I’m certain you could clear a space in the stables for strays, however. Toby could train them to guard the gates.”

Blackwall shot him a sideways glance, then chuckled faintly. “Think you’re a funny one, eh? All right, Fenris. Let’s try this again.”

To Fenris’s relief, they returned to sparring. When Fenris called a stop an hour later to meet with Josephine, he and Blackwall were both satisfyingly sweaty and bruised, and it was almost enough to help him tolerate the stultifying three hours he spent in the ambassador’s office.

After supper that night, he took shelter in his and Hawke’s bedroom to read, emerging close to midnight to play chess with Cullen while Hawke was at the Herald’s Rest with Sera and Blackwall. Much later that night, long after Fenris had finally scraped a victory over Cullen and retired to bed alone, Hawke stumbled into their bedroom.

She fell onto the bed with a giggle, and Fenris moved over to let her in. “You smell of cider,” he murmured. “I take it you had a good time.”

“Lovely time,” she slurred. “D’you know if you get Sera drunk enough, she caterwauls? I don’t mean sings. Caterwauls. It’s truly fucking awful and wonderful all at once.” She tossed her boots down beside the bed, then started clumsily pulling off her coat.

Fenris watched with rising amusement as she struggled, then slid out of the bed and padded around the bed to stand in front of her. He gently moved her hands aside and helped her out of her jacket, then carefully pulled off her shirt and began unlacing her bustier.

She smiled salaciously at him as he undressed her. “Hmmm, this is nice. What are you going to do once you’ve got me naked?”

“Fetch a glass of water and a basin in case you vomit,” he deadpanned. He dropped her trousers on the ground, then jerked his chin at the bed. “Get in.”

“I won’t vomit,” she said belligerently. “What sort of amateur do you think I am?” She snuggled into the covers as Fenris bustled around the room for water and a basin, and as soon as he returned to the bed, she shuffled over and pressed her naked body against him.

She plucked at his cotton shirt, and Fenris patiently pried her fingers away and kissed her knuckles. “Go to sleep, Hawke,” he murmured.

She chuckled drowsily, then wrapped her arm around his waist. “Blackwall and Sera are so cute,” she mumbled. “I think he sees her as the daughter he never had. Funny how family happens like that, isn’t it? Comes out of nowhere. Merry castleful of misfits.”

Fenris hummed an acknowledgement. This was Hawke’s specialty, after all: constructing a family for herself from a disparate group of people thrown together through sheer chance and circumstance. In contrast, the only family Fenris really needed was right here in this bed.

Her sneaky fingers slid beneath his shirt, and he smirked indulgently as she petted his chest. A moment later, she spoke again. “Fenris, d’you want to have a family someday?”

For a moment, he stopped breathing. An imaginary child appeared in his mind: Hawke’s chestnut hair and his green eyes in a round-cheeked face –

He shoved the fantasy aside and inhaled carefully. “Do you?” he asked.

She tutted. “Don’t do that. I’m asking you a question.”

“And you are very drunk,” Fenris pointed out. “Charmingly so, but–”

“And you’re deflecting,” Hawke interrupted. With some difficulty, she propped herself up on one elbow. “You want a baby, don’t you?”

Fenris nervously licked his lips. They shouldn’t speak of this while she was drunk, especially since they had only ever talked about having children in oblique and humorous terms even while sober. But she was watching him attentively — more attentively than he would have expected, given her inebriation — and her expression was open and curious, and… well, it was unlikely she would remember this tomorrow.

“I wouldn’t rule it out. If you were interested,” he hedged. He nibbled the inside of his cheek for a moment. “Do you want a child?”

“Right now? No,” she scoffed. “Maker’s balls, can you imagine having a baby in the midst of this fucking mess? No, absolutely not.”

Fenris nodded. “And… what if it were not… now?”

She tilted her head. “You mean after all of this is done?”

“Yes,” he said. “Would you… would you want a child with me?”

She studied him silently for a moment, and Fenris watched with a pounding heart as a brilliant, beautiful smile bloomed across her face. She traced the edge of his cheek with one finger, then laughed. “You’re right. I am too drunk for this.” She snuggled down on his chest once more. “Imagine me as a mother. Fuck’s sakes, I’d probably forget the baby somewhere and then it would get raised by wolves.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Which wouldn’t be so bad, really. You know what Solas says about wolves.” She lowered her voice mockingly to a smooth, calm tone. “‘They’re intelligent, practical creatures that stupid people think of as terrible beasts.’ Or whatever it was that he said.”

Fenris frowned slightly. Carefully so as not to jostle her too much, he rolled onto his side to look at her. “You would make a fine mother, Hawke.”

She chuckled fuzzily. “Don’t be daft. I’d most certainly leave it somewhere by accident. Or mistake its bald baby head for Solas. Imagine me cradling Solas’s head to my bosom and rocking him to sleep…” She snickered and cuddled closer to Fenris’s body, and he slowly ran his fingers through her tufty hair. As always, he could see that there was some genuine fear beneath her jokes. But the hour was late, and Hawke was deep in her cups… and now was not the time to address her worries.

She curled her fists against his chest, then kissed his neck. “You would be a great father,” she whispered. “All strict and firm and disciplined. But also huggy. You give the best hugs. And no one reads bedtime stories better than you.”

A sudden fist of doubt squeezed his heart. Somehow in his passing fancies of having a child with Hawke, he hadn’t taken the time to imagine himself as a father. To think of himself doing fatherly duties the likes of which he had no memory: reading stories, and changing diapers, and… and other things that he wasn’t certain of. How could he be so bold as to imagine being a father if he couldn’t even remember being a child?

“You’d be fantastic,” Hawke mumbled sleepily, as though to answer his unspoken worries. “Better than me for sure.”

He pulled back slightly to look at her. Her eyes were closed, but her smile was curved with conviction.

Fenris gently pushed her hair back from her forehead. She opened her eyes, and for a moment they simply gazed at each other in the darkness.

She tilted her chin up slightly, and Fenris slowly lowered his lips to hers. Her mouth was pliant and sweet, and her tongue tasted of cider. He lingered in the taste and feel of her, leaving kiss after kiss on the pillows of her lips until her kisses softened with slumber.

He carefully tucked her head beneath his chin, then closed his eyes. The world was full of uncertainties and uncharted dangers, but all Fenris and Hawke could do was tackle them one day at a time.

And perhaps someday, when Corypheus was dead and this cursed mark was stripped from Fenris’s hand, he and Hawke might walk into another, more promising sort of uncertainty altogether.

#fenris #fenris fic #Lovers in a Dangerous Time #fenquisition #fenris the inquisitor #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fenris/femhawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris/f!hawke #fenris x f!hawke #hawris #f!hawris #fenrynne #pikapeppa writes

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lexilikesthings · 5 years

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Heritage: Part 6

Bull was back at Skyhold. And so was Stitches. Iron Bull listened to Stitches report of what he learned, nodding and taking mental notes as he went along, asking for the occasional clarification. Eventually, he was pretty sure he had the pieces he needed to complete the puzzle. Or at least to come close.

“Do I get to ask what this is about yet, ser?” Stitches asked with a glance that suggested he already had a hunch.

“Nope.”

“Very well. I’m off.”

He sat in his quarters, staring at what he’d written. Out of reflex and perhaps a desire to keep the matter private, he had written everything down in coded qunlat. However, now he had to decide what to do with this knowledge. The Inquisitor’s mood had been on the upside lately, they were closing in on Samson, destroying red lyrium operations left and right, and fade rifts were being closed all over. He knew she would want to know about this. He just hated that he’d have to be the one to tell her. He stuck the note in his back pocket and headed out of Herald’s Rest.

As luck would have it, Adaar was headed across the courtyard as Bull left the tavern. She smiled and waved, changing her course to greet him.

“Good to see you, Bull,” she said.

“Hey, Boss, you got a second to talk?”

Her head tilted. “Sure, what’s up?”

“Yeah, no, I was hoping for a more private discussion.”

Bull saw a glint in her eye that said she wanted to make a joke, but he wasn’t exactly trying to hide the dread he was feeling about this conversation, and she could tell it wasn’t the time.

“Sure...” Adaar turned and led him back across the grounds.

Bull could feel the note burning a hole in his pocket, practically weighing him down as he climbed the thrice damned stairs to the Inquisitor’s quarters. It was still early in the day, the sunlight hadn’t made its way through the west facing windows yet, and the lack of rays brought a slight chill to the room.

The Inquisitor leaned against her desk and crossed her arms, almost defensively. “So. What did you need to talk about?”

Bull sat on the corner of her bed and looked at her, studied her before he responded. He wanted to know how she’d react when he told her. “I investigated your mom’s death.”

Her whole demeanor changed. Her shoulders, previously square and tense, sagged as her whole posture seemed to deflate.

“Why would you... do that?” She seemed genuinely confused. At that moment Bull began to wonder if he should have done it at all, but he had and there was no changing that.

“Something didn’t feel right about it.”

“Yeah, no shit, Bull, my mother was burned to death in her home! Nothing about it was right!” She wasn’t leaning against the desk anymore, now she was leaning forward, furious and sad.

“That’s not what I mean-”

“Why would you do this? How long ago did you this? Why didn’t you tell me about it sooner?” With every question she took a step closer to him, angry tears building.

Bull sighed. “You know, I really hate being interrupted.” He stood up. “I didn’t want to tell you if there was nothing to tell.”

“I didn’t authorize this! I should have known before you even sent anyone out!” She took another step forward and jabbed a finger into his chest. “Dammit, Bull, you don’t get to do whatever you want, just because I- Because-” She didn’t seem to want to finish the sentence.

Bull grabbed her arm, and when her other arm came up to shove him away, he grabbed that one too. “Calm down. If you don’t calm down, I can’t tell you what I found out.”

Adaar shook her head, face tilted down so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “I don’t need to know- I don’t want to know.” She struggled against his grip.

“Yes, you do. Now take a deep breath.”

A few heavy moments passed where Adaar tried to vainly pull free of his grip before surrendering. She took a few shaky breaths and then a good solid one. “Okay.”

Bull gave a sigh of relief. “Okay.” he let her go and slowly guided her to sit on the bed. He stayed standing.

“I sent one of my guys to check out your village and ask around. I guess a lot of people had a lot to say about it, because he said it didn’t take long.” The Inquisitor wasn’t making eye contact. He crossed his arms. “I guess a few months beforehand, a guy, some merchant or trader passing through, said he saw a demon in the woods.” Adaar clenched her jaw. “No one paid him much mind. Then another traveler came through asking if the woods were haunted. A few people started asking questions, trying to get it investigated.” Bull paused, watching the Inquisitor attempt to keep her breathing regular. “Obviously the villagers new about your mom and she helped them out from time to time with stuff, but I guess the rumors just kept piling up until she went into town one day.” Adaar looked up. Bull almost wished she hadn’t. There was such pure curious sorrow etched onto her face. He cleared his throat and continued. “There were some travelers who saw her and whispered to each other and got shit rolling. Apparently there’s some argument over who threw it, but she got hit with some overripe produce. I guess the mob mentality took over at that point, shit started flying and they ran her out of town.”

Adaar stood up.

Bull held out his hands preemptively to calm her. “Wait.”

“Give me a second.” she stalked over to her desk. Paused. Then swept everything off the top with a guttural scream, proceeding to kick unsuspecting books and inkwells across the room. The rug was ruined. Josephine would likely be upset about that, Bull mused.

“Hey...” He let the syllable hang in the air for a few moments, letting Adaar catch her breath. Her fists were clenched at her side and Bull really didn’t want to test if he could dodge them, so he stayed back. She was panting, deep heavy pants that were more like a breathing exercise than anything to do with exertion.

But then she walked back and sat right back down on her bed, ignoring the growing stench of the ink soaking into the floor. “Go on, then.” She was looking him in the eye now, sadness replaced by a sharp fury. He sighed.

“It’s not a good ending, but you know that already. The travelers and a good chunk of the townsfolk got some makeshift weapons together and went out after her later. Few of them said they just wanted her to leave, that they didn’t actually wanna hurt her.” Adaar barked out a humorless laugh. “Everybody’s pointing fingers at everyone else, but I think there might be an outside influence here.”

She didn’t respond at first. “What are you driving at, Bull?”

“I think someone might have set it up.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m serious,” he insisted.

“No you’re fucking not.” Adaar stood again and strode past Bull towards the balcony. He thought for a moment about grabbing her by the arm, stopping her, but figured it would be better to let her go. She didn’t actually go out onto the balcony, just stood in the doorway. “Not everything is a big conspiracy, Bull.” She turned to face him, bracing herself on the door frame with both hands. “Sometimes humans are just shitty.”

“Yeah,” Bull admitted. “But I’m thinking maybe this time it was a specific human.”

Adaar gave a huff. “And I suppose you’ve looked into that as well?”

“Actually, no, I haven’t.” He took a few cautious steps toward her. “I wanted to tell you what I had so far.”

“Good. Because you’re dropping this. Right now.” Adaar straightened up, her height nearly matching Bull’s. He wasn’t used to someone being able to look him in the eye without craning their neck. “I’m giving you an order, Iron Bull. Do not pursue this any further.”

Bull was surprised. He hadn’t expected a flat out cease and desist. “Boss, if there’s someone out there targeting people your close to-”

“I’m the Inquisitor, Bull. It comes with the territory.” Her tone was cold and her eyes practically dripped with venom. It made the hair on the back of Bull’s neck stand up. “Now, if you’re going to keep calling me Boss, I suggest you listen to what I’ve told you.” With that, she turned sharply to face her desk, seeming to forget the mess she’d made of it only moments ago. She stood there, still as the mountains outside.

Bull gave an exasperated sigh through his nostrils. “I get that you’re mad. I won’t go any deeper into this.”

“If you wanted to dig into my past that badly, you could have just asked me,” Adaar said, quietly this time. Bull opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, she continued. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some letters to write,” and then, quieter, “and a floor to clean.”

Bull nodded, more to himself since she still wasn’t facing him. He left her quarters and didn’t stop until he was in his own. Something about the tavern didn’t seem like the right place to be just then. He pulled the note out of his back pocket and regarded it for a few minutes before, ultimately, slowly burning it over a candle until the blackened edges singed his fingertips.

#dragon age fanfiction #heritage #iron bull #iron bull x inquisitor #inquisitor adaar #dragon age inquisition #fanfiction

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crazy-loca-blog · 5 years

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Personal thoughts on Sunkissed, Ch. 3

Note: As the title says, these are just personal opinions on Choices books and chapters. Of course, you may agree or disagree with them, I only use this platform to express my thoughts on what I read every week and what I’d like to see in the next chapters, because none of my friends play Choices so I have no one to comment the books with.

The last few weeks have been insane, and this week I’m honestly feeling the burnout. So I had to stop working for a moment and write this post to clear my mind and think about non-job related stuff… however, writing it was a struggle… it took me forever to finish it, and not because I didn’t have anything to say about Chapter 3, but because I’m realizing that my mind is so exhausted that I couldn’t even find the right words to express what I wanted to say. Luckily, it seems the block is gone, so here we go...

Reading this week’s chapter made me a little sad, to be honest. Not only I felt nothing really interesting happened, but I’m beginning to think that all the fun will be hidden behind a paywall. I really want to know more about dad, as he seems to be a very interesting character. I see him as loving, caring, wise, and full of surprises, a good man who only wanted the best for his family. However, the fact that we had to pay to read the second message in a bottle (if you didn’t pay for it, it’s a letter where he explains the story behind his lasagna and how he created the recipe after a big and silly fight with mom) kind of killed my mood, especially because in the end it had such a beautiful lesson that we must have got to read for free (“I learned that day that small, thoughtful gestures, like making a home-cooked meal, can make all the difference if you’re trying to cheer someone up”). I thought we would have to pay to get the pieces of the map, but paying to read the letters and get to know dad better… it kind of sucks.

Also, dear PB… where is the sweet Alexis I discovered last week and what did you do to her? It took her like 5 seconds to become a bitch who wouldn’t date a sweet boy because he sells ice cream and she has a reputation to keep. Honey, you’re in college right now, you should be old enough to realize that life is not a popularity contest. Also, I couldn’t understand her attitude towards mom this week. Everything seemed to be fine between them after the pool party, the art gallery visit and the ice cream and now Alexis suddenly complains about her mom talking about her? She just said nice words about you, you know? She complains about she and her mom “drifting apart”, but all I can see now is that Alexis is the one pushing her mom away. I understand the plot will probably have this love and hate relationship between them for the rest of the book, but I don’t understand Alexis changing her mind about her mom for no reason every chapter, I definitely need more context to understand both points of view here.

Finally, the only LI we got to see this week was Nate. And I’m sorry to say this dude, but if you’re trying to win my MC’s heart, your techniques aren’t working. I love teasing him though. I don’t think I‘m the only one who’s noticing this, but the way PB treats the options regarding our relationship with Nate are quite different to what we’re used to. You follow his game or you just coldly reject him when he tries to flirt or to make a move, there’s no middle ground. And even though sometimes I’d want my MC not to be that mean to him (I don’t want her to become a new Alexis!), I kind of like this focus… especially because if you’re mean to him, the story makes it look like you’re teasing the guy instead of just pushing him away.

To be honest, I don’t know the path it may take the book in future chapters. I have no idea, because the story doesn’t seem to give us many clues either. I’d love to see more about Eliana and maybe help her with the turtles (that would be a good cause to be involved with) or to see our MC on some kind of self-discovery journey with Samson. She’s being like the glue that keeps her family together now, so it would be nice to see her doing things for herself instead of just trying to take care of everyone at the house. I’m pretty sure that Alexis and her mom won’t be mad about it.

What we do know is that, after the misfortune of not finding Tony’s Spicy Marinara (what a tragedy! That’s what happens people when you forget you main mission for the chapter and just go on a date or to hang out with the first hot guy you see), I’m pretty sure we’ll get to prepare the lasagna and not because it’s said in the Chapter 4 summary (insert “spoiler alert” image here… oops! Too late already) but because the meaning it carries. This family really needs to talk if they want to heal… and all I can see is that they’re not talking… so they’re definitely not healing.

#playchoices #choices stories you play #sunkissed #aria kersey #alexis kersey #nate x mc #eliana x mc #samsom x mc #turtle bay

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flower-lesbienne · 6 years

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I’m gonna try and list events from emmerdale I remember because I have awful memory and want to see what I can recall [long post]

Emma set the barn on fire while Moira was in it but Moira told her she was in labour and Emma helped her out

Moira gave birth to Isaac but Emma steals him

Emma kills Fin

Ross tells Emma (his mum) to kill herself

But suicide is a sin so Emma aggravates Moira who pushes her off the bridge

There’s like loads of conspiracy about who actually killed Emma, pretty much everybody is a suspect, for a while everyone thought gabby and Arthur had something to do with it

Harriet finds Isaac in the church

Rebecca gives birth to seb

Robert tries to leave because he doesn’t want seb to be a fuck up like him and Aaron talks him out of it

But Robert has been planning to take over home farm and Rebecca’s pissed so she decides to stop Robert from seeing seb

The whites are moving to australia! But Lachlan doesn’t want to go because he want to stay with belle. So his mum asks belle to break up with him

Did I mention that Roberts not very happy about Rebecca taking seb to Australia and so he kidnaps him?

A car chase ensues and Lachlan is so mad about that belle thing that he tries to kill his entire family and successfully kills his mum and grandad. But not his auntie Rebecca!

Rebecca is in a coma now

I’m trying to remember other major events

Gabby doesn’t like her mums bf Daz so while charity and Vanessa get busy she steals some horse tranq and gets live to put it in Dazs drink

Liv accidentally puts it in Lisa’s drink and Lisa has a heart attack and gabby and Liv get arrested

Did I mention Belle and Lachlan are starting a brewery now?

I totally forgot about the Halloween party where Charity and Vanessa first got busy

I literally have no idea when all the joe Tate stuff happened but yeah joe pretended to be somebody else and dated Debbie and hid the fact he was trying to buy the piece of land her home was on so he could build a golf course

Joe moves into Home Farm and hosts a party for the whole village and while everybody is there has some bulldozers take a chunk out of the dingles cottage, not realising that Noah and Samson were still inside, luckily Graham and Eric save them

Oh Eric betrayed the dingles too btw but I can’t remember what he did, he also begins a relationship with Faith

Cain cheats on Harriet with Moira and the two eventually split up and Moira and cain get back together

Pete is super depressed and drinks a lot and almost dies cos he falls down the stairs

Laurel and bob have an affair and Arthur ends up finding out and eventually lots of people find out including bobs wife Brenda

Leyla leaves

Tracy thinks David had an affair with priya but it was actually Leyla (that’s why she left)

Everybody thinks Priya abused her niece Eliza but it turned out the bruising was caused by Eliza’s meds

Moira gets some drugs from Simon, the drug dealer of her daughter who overdosed

Debbie gets Simon to beat up joe but Simon decides to throw acid on him instead but Ross takes joes car so Simon throws acid on Ross by mistake and joe and graham help him

This is exhausting

I’ll continue later I’m nowhere near done this is like February

Please note: this isn’t In Chronological order because many of these story lines happened at the same time

#i havent even mentioned gerry #or di bails #or the guy that black mailed tracey #or Dan and amelia and kerry and beth #sarah? whos she?#chas and paddy? never heard of them #adam whom??

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dalilaswork · 7 years

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My dear Delilah... pt. II

Title: My dear Delilah… pt. II Author: Dalila Ship: Sherlock x Reader Word count: 1.810 Part one: x Summary: After revealing yourself as Moriarty’s partner, you aim his gun at Sherlock. The three of you stand there, until another twist comes someone’s way. Warnings: someone being shot, blood loss (message me if I should add something to the list)

“Oh, I see…” Images of you flickering before his eyes. Each smile, each wink, every picture he’d saved in his mind – it was all a lie. “You’re (Y/N)”

“I find it amusing. James said you were smarter than… ordinary people.”

“But you… You weren’t supposed to be like this.” His scream echoed, filling the walls around you.

Then you grabbed the gun Moriarty hid in his suit. You pointed it at Sherlock, with a playful smirk. “Maybe you just wanted to believe that. John, Molly… it was never enough for you. You needed someone who’d made you feel special. You needed someone matching your level. But we were never matching. I’m higher than you. And you proved that on the very day we’ve met. I gave you a clue, right away.”

“Of course… Delilah - Samson’s wife, the symbol of betrayal.”

“What parent would name their child Delilah, right?” he couldn’t stop staring at you, as you lowered the gun and aimed it at his heart. Not knowing you’ve already hit him there. Already killed him. “Now, James… what do you think we should do with this one?”

Time seemed to stop at that very moment. Moriarty’s gun in your hands aimed at Sherlock’s heart and Moriarty right behind you. Sherlock tried to picture this situation in his mind palace to figure out how to survive. The problem was, he was out of options. He was harmless, he always was harmless whenever you were concerned.

“No need to be dramatic, darling.” Moriarty burst out in laughter, once more placing a hand on your shoulder. One corner of your lips went up at his touch. “Step back now, it’s no time to set fire.”

Seconds turned to ages, as you just stared at each other. Sherlock examined every part of your face. It was never easy, reading you. You were often misguiding him, creating façades to slow him down. But your eyes were honest, the only place you couldn’t control. And yet, he could only see one thing reflecting in them.

Himself.

Your playful smirk lightened up once again, as you gave Sherlock a quick wink.

“Fire doesn’t know time.” Maniacal laughter filled his ears moments before you fired your gun… just below Moriarty’s ribs. “Oopsie…” you threw the gun his way before causally walking to Sherlock. “And you’re going to follow me, without any tricks. You know I don’t need a gun to put you through hell.” You walked past him, leaving him in shock for a few seconds.

“You bloody traitor…” Moriarty was squirming in pain, his blood already spreading on the floor. And even while struggling to breathe, he couldn’t help but laugh. “Clever traitor!” he shouted with a psychotic grin on his face.

“I said: follow me…” you repeated, standing near the door. You didn’t even bother turning your face to them. There was no need for that. “Trust me, it’ll be worth it.” With one last chuckle, you exited the cathedral, knowing Sherlock was right behind you.

“You’re (Y/N)…”

“Yeah, we already settled that one. Move on.” You played with a lost strand of your hair, with Sherlock sitting in front of you in his chair on 221B Baker Street. Outside, skyline was lit up with stars. London lived its life without the two of you, as you secluded in his small flat.

“What was the point of all this?” his eyes were narrowed, as he tried to get an answer without you saying anything. You smiled, knowing he wouldn’t be able to deduce it. Making things messy and overcomplicated was your speciality.

“I may be a psycho, but I’m not even half as dangerous as that bastard.” Your gaze went absent for a few moments, as your mouth continued to voice your thoughts. “I heard about him years ago. I was in mess with myself, without any purpose…”

“That was why you joined him? So he could give you purpose?” he scoffed, shaking his head at you. And you just sighed with disappointment.

“Yeah, because ever since I was a kid I dreamed about being a serial killer, be realistic now.” You mocked him, tapping your fingers on the table. Sherlock’s eyebrows twitched a little when he realized you’d been tapping his own melody. You got up and casually walked to the kitchen. “Fancy a tea?”

“If it wasn’t for that, why did you join him?” he got up and followed you. You’d noticed he was keeping his distance from you. Observing you, the way predator observes his prey. You turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

“And why does anyone do anything?” you slowly repeated Moriarty’s words. You heard them so often, they became your own mantra. “Why are you chasing after him, playing all his games, letting him mess around with everyone? I wanted to stop him.”

His brows furrowed at your words. “People died, (Y/N)! Not just because you didn’t stop him, you killed them yourself. Torturing them, driving them mad.” He practically shouted at you, throwing one of the cups across the room. It shattered against the wall, but you didn’t even blink. Didn’t break eye contact for one moment.

“Would you rather have someone else do it for him? Someone actually dedicated to this maniac?” you made your way closer to him, your eyes burning with passion. You faces were only inches away, when you pierced him with your eyes. Trying to reach his soul. No, deeper. His mind, the only place he ever paid attention to. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d probably be dead by now. Without any clues about what he’s going to do next. His stupid game would be over and you’d die if it wasn’t for me.” You hissed those words right in his face, rage pouring out of your words, your eyes. “It was my sacrifice for the world, Sherlock.”

This wasn’t your first argument, but it was indeed your first truly honest conversation. It was usually easy for him to understand any point you’d make, but each time it would be just a façade, carefully planned lie. Without real emotions. “You call this sacrifice?” he asked.

“I looked out for the bigger picture there! Something you could try, maybe then you would stop walk in circles.” Your breath was irregular, as you threw words at him. “You’d never get anything out of him or any other member of his web. You needed me there.”

“If you truly were on my side, why didn’t you kill him today? You could have ended this all in a matter of seconds.” Sherlock made his way closer to you, his voice full of disgust. He hated you, for all the things you’d done. A soft smile crept over your lips at his tone. Oh, you knew it would come to that one day…

“Of all people you should know – Moriarty is smart.” Your voice turned calm again, a sense of peace filling you. “But he’s also chaotic. He’s not doing this for anything else than his own entertainment. He’s Nero, making the world burn just so he can warm up in its flame. I spent my best years to understand his instincts.” You tried taking his hand in yours, but he quickly retrieved it. “If I killed him today, his web would outlive him. I wasn’t the one who would take over it. You’d lose it all, forever. You’d never find it again. Moriarty is always in control. He’ll also be in control of his own death. This is all a game to him, and you need to play along.”

He looked into your eyes one more time. His face was a riddle of emotions, one you didn’t even try to solve. You didn’t want to know what would be the result. After a moment, he left the kitchen and took his violin in his hands, implying that the conversation was over.

“I have few people who are faithful to me, not Moriarty. They took care of him and already informed your brother.” You closed your eyes as a sweet melody filled your ears. Only then, your body was shaken a little. One last time, you heard him play. “By now, James is probably being interrogated. This is not the end, but it will give you some time to prepare.” You took your bag from the chair you’d been sitting on and turned to the exit.

“Prepare for what exactly?” he asked, not turning his face towards you.

“For the next step of his game. It’ll take a lot of effort, but I believe I already made it a little easier for you.” You chuckled quietly. “You’ve made a big mistake trusting me the first time Sherlock. You listened to your heart, but you should never let it rule your head.”

“I’ll keep it in mind…” his tone was distant, even more than usual. You’ve grown to understand how he’d leave the real world to enter his mind palace, how he kept away from people to be in his best mental state. But this was different. You proved him wrong, you played him and it would never be the same between you.

“Goodbye, Sherlock.” You said, taking one last glance at the flat. Surprisingly, you’ve grown accustomed to being there. All this time, you knew it would eventually come to an end. It was just your mission to be there, yet the thought of leaving almost saddened you.

“This is your last goodbye, right?” his words echoed in your head for the first few seconds before you answered. You smiled, but weakly.

“Soon, there will be a reward set for my head. I need to hide, probably I’ll have to do it for the rest of my life. The good part is that I won’t have to hide for a long time. Betrayal has a really high price, Sherlock. Especially in criminal world…” For a moment, you allowed your true feelings to show. You let out a tired sigh. You were tired. Not being able to live your own life, always doing everything for the greater cause. “This is my sacrifice.”

“I understand.” For the first time since you both walked out of the cathedral, his voice was soft. You looked over your shoulder at him. He was looking at you from over his shoulder too. And he was smiling at you. It wasn’t much. But he understood you. And you understood him.

“You were never Samson…” you stated what you both already knew. The moment you shot Moriarty, Sherlock understood the true symbolism of your name. “Moriarty couldn’t get it… He’d never think of being represented by a good guy.”

“Most people wouldn’t think that a traitor could represent the good side.” He added, once more turning his attention fully to the instrument. One last time…

“Good luck, Holmes. I’m afraid you’re going to need it.” A single tear danced in the corner of your eye. “Just… one last favour. Compose something for me. My testament to this world. I believe you’re the only one capable of telling the truth without any words.”

You left the apartment, knowing you’d never again visit 221B Baker Street. Ever since you decided to play triple agent, you’d been preparing for that day. Always telling yourself, it’s okay. You deserved worse for the things you did to climb up the ladder of criminals. Just… experiencing it was different. Despite being driven by your own twisted sense of duty, you got used to the life of Sherlock Holmes’ side partner.

“Testament of Delilah…” he observed his bow carefully, his hands making the decision for him. His heart shouldn’t drive his head ever again, but even he was unable to keep his heart completely silent. It needed to find its release. In a melody that started off as soft and caring, then turned fierce and mad. Only to end in repeating the first rhythm, this time in melancholic way. As if he was playing one last time.

@sherlockourhero, @eliathe

#sherlock #sherlock imagine #sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock #sherlock oneshot #bbc sherlock imagines #sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader oneshot #sherlock holmes imagines #sherlock inserts

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mikkeneko · 7 years

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More in the “Anders Meets the Inner Circle” series: Sera!

Warning for graphic description of injuries in this one.

It was hard for Anders to truly say what his first meeting with Sera was like. Technically, the first time they'd met face to face was when he was being introduced around Skyhold like a new exhibition, led around the courtyard from advisor to companion to companion. He remembered seeing Sera under a tent, her eyes drilling into him, responding to the Inquisitor's pleasant introduction with only a single loud, rude noise.

That set the tone for most of their interactions, really. They never talked face to face; most of their contact came when he was crossing the courtyard at Skyhold while Sera was out on her roof, her presence made known by loud derisive jeers or insults from above. The young elf did not exactly solicit conversation; her words were flung down like missiles, sometimes accompanied by actual missiles of rotten fruit or dirt.

For his part Anders was happy enough to avoid her; he'd never had much luck with elves.

Until one day when he was in the infirmary labeling bottles from the latest potion batch, a commotion from out in the courtyard heralded the arrival of one blonde, upset, highly agitated elf.

"Sera?" he said, startled. She grabbed for his arm, and he barely avoided dropping the potion bottle in his hand.

"You're a healer!" she blurted out.

"Yes?" he hazarded, but his reflexes were already kicking in, and he was moving towards the door. Sera didn't seem to be injured, no blood, no burns, and the commotion had started outside, which meant that his patient was probably outside too.

"So heal!" Without another word she grabbed again, and this time he let her take hold of his wrist to tow him along. Out of the infirmary, down the steps at a breakneck pace, through the courtyard, into the kitchens and through the tunnels to a part of the castle that he had only visited once or twice before. And now he was running ahead under his own power, pulling against her grasp, because he could hear the screaming from up ahead.

"Get out the way!" Sera yelled as they approached, and the crowd of people parted with alacrity to let him through. He took it all in a freeze-frame vision: trashed workbench, spilled liquids, broken glass, splintered metal. The small body on the ground, writhing and screaming, left hand clutching the right wrist. The acrid scent of blood, of burned flesh, of… lyrium?

He skidded forward and dropped to his knees beside the patient -- up close he recognized her, dimly, as the little dwarven Arcanist that Adaar had introduced him to a few weeks ago. Dara? Dana? They hadn't crossed paths much, as she didn't go on missions and he didn't often venture to this part of the fortress.

The pattern of cuts and burns, centering on the workbench, spoke of an explosion. She'd been working with something volatile, and it had blown up in her face… in her hand. Her face was bleeding from a dozen small cuts, red and blotched from the force of her screams, but the damage was all in the hand.

He grabbed the dwarf's hand, pulling it away from its tight protective clutch to her body into the light, and peeled off the shredded remains of a thick leather glove to fling into the corner. His stomach turned despite all his healing experience at what he saw: the hand was mangled, a ruin of bloody meat and burns streaking up the wrist and arm, and something driven in the palm still crackled and spat like vicious acid --

If he hadn't known Sandal back in Hawke's estate in Kirkwall, he might not have reacted so quickly; as it was, he slammed his mana down on the girl's hand in the most tight-focused, concentrated anti-magic burst he could narrow down to such a small space. The vicious red light sputtered and went out, and Dagna's continuous screams tailed off to a sudden sobbing gasp.

In the wake of the screaming the undercroft felt almost silent for a moment; he could hear trickling liquid and tinkling glass, the somehow muffled voices of the others. "What's wrong with her? What's wrong?" Sera was demanding, from somewhere beyond his sphere of attention. "What's hurt Dagna? Why haven't you healed her?"

"What happened here?" Anders said, even as he summoned deep cold to his hands and focused it on Dagna's injured hand. It would reduce swelling, soothe the burn, and numb the nerves for the next stage of healing.

Tears leaked from the corner of Dagna's eyes. "I - I was working with a sample of r-red lyrium --" she gasped out. "R-research, to try to counter S-Samson's armor --"

"It exploded?" Anders asked, steering the conversation towards the parts relevant to him. He wasn't interested in the details of Dagna's research right now, though the mention of red lyrium left him cold; he needed to know the sequence of events. "And then what?"

"And then it b-burned, so… I tried to put it out with wu-water, but then the water just boiled…"

He could see the scald marks the water had left up her wrist and arm. "Relax," he told her, as he began trying to pry her hand open. "I'm going to help you. I'll do my best."

It would take his best, too, he realized as the bloody ruin of her palm was revealed. The explosion could not have done more damage if a grenade had gone off in her hand. Bad enough that the glass had shattered, shards forced into her palm; it looked like several of the finger's tendons had been severed. But shards of red lyrium had also become embedded under the skin, still smoldering with a sullen light despite the force of his magic dampening. The exposed flesh and muscle was horribly burned, weeping pale yellow pus from peeling skin, and blackened blood crusted the edges of the wound.

What a mess. "Relax," he told her again, more for his own benefit than hers. "Hold on to something. Maybe find something to bite."

And then he turned all his attention to the hand.

It took a long time to even clean out the wounds to prepare them; there was no chance at all of a successful healing if red lyrium still contaminated the wound. On several occasions it took small, modified Force spells to dig shards of glass, scraps of burned leather or flakes of lyrium out of the deeper cuts, and the lyrium kept wanting to burst back into life despite all the dispelling he could do. He had to throw them to the far end of the Undercroft, following them with a burst of freezing magic to shatter them into dust before they were fully silenced.

At last he could really set to work, stitching the tendons and ligaments back together with a careful application of spirit magic, mending nicked arteries and severed veins. Healing the muscles and skin as delicately as possible so as not to cause a snarl or tear in the fibers. Hands were so fragile, he'd learned that back in Kirkwall. Even a small carelessness could cause a knotted scar that would rob the fingers of their dexterity, potentially costing a skilled artisan her livelihood.

When he was finally finished, washing away the ugly scalded streaks up the arm with soothing waves of blue magic, he was drained nearly dry. He looked up to see Dagna's face streaked with tears, a leather belt between her teeth; her head in Sera's lap, Sera's hands both clutching Dagna's left.

"There," Anders said, unable to keep the exhaustion out of his voice. Red lyrium was nasty, and without his prior experience in healing people exposed to it, he wasn't sure he would have recognized it in time. "I've done as much as I can."

"Thank you," Dagna said, her voice wobbling a bit. She tried to sit up, despite Sera's fussing. "Will I..."

The question trailed off, but Anders could guess what she was most worried about, having faced the same question a hundred times from craftsmen and workers in Kirkwall. "You should have full use of your hand," he assured her. "Rest the arm completely for a day or two, and don't try to pick up any heavy weights with it for at least a month. You'll have some interesting tan lines for a while, but there shouldn't be any scars."

Dagna began to cry, shoulders heaving with relief. This too was a familiar enough reaction to Anders, but it drove Sera into a frenzy. "Now see what you've done!" she said angrily. "Get away from her! Get out!"

That was gratitude for you, but it wasn’t the first time he’d been yelled at by a fantastically upset parent or girlfriend. Anders rose and took a few more minutes to make sure that the fragments of burning lyrium that he had discarded on the stone floor were thoroughly neutralized, and wearily took his leave.

By the next day he'd finished labeling the bottles and was carefully decanting his latest batch of potion into them -- not too much, or too little, to keep the dose consistent between each one -- when Sera came bursting into the infirmary again, the door banging against the wall behind her.

Anders came on alert. "What is it? The wounds didn't re-open, did they?"

"You!" Sera pointed an accusing finger at him. "What d'you think's the big idea?"

"They didn't re-open, then." Anders relaxed, losing some interest in the conversation when it didn't look like there was a medical emergency on hand. He finished pouring out the current bottle. "You're welcome, by the way."

"No I'm not welcome! I'm pissed!" She stamped her foot on the flagstone floor. "Think I should just forget all the rotten shit you did because you pranced in with your fancy fixing magic? Big man of the hour, flowers and garlands, forget about the big hole in the ground and fruit thrown at your head sort of thing? That's not how it works!"

It wasn't the first time random residents of Skyhold had stopped by his office to yell at him, either. But usually their accusations followed a more predictable format. "So you're mad at me because I healed your friend?"

"No! Of course I want Widdle to be okay!" She glared at him. "How stupid are you that you just don't get it? You were supposed to be evil! Big black cape, twirling mustache, blowing up nuns for a laff! You were supposed to be a piece of shit, because that meant that I could treat you like shit, and that's how it was supposed to be! Now it turns out that you're maybe not completely a shit, and that makes me the shit for being a shit to you instead!"

Silence hovered in the infirmary as Anders tried to parse this. Slowly he said, "So you're mad at me because... I'm not completely a shit?"

"YES!" Sera shouted at the top of her lungs.

While Anders tried to work out how to feel about this, Sera began to pace. "People like you, with your grand plans and big visions, you don't care about how many people you mow down in your wake. You aren't supposed to care."

Anders shrugged, looking down at his hands as he sealed off the potion bottle and put it with the others, picking up a fresh one. "Maybe you don't know as much about me as you think you do."

"Pff! So you've got reasons, so what?" Sera scoffed loudly, before pitching her voice in a nasal, exaggerated imitation of a Ferelden accent. " 'Oooh, I'm so misunderstood, nobody understands my deep brooding thoughts.' So you had a shitty childhood? Big fucking deal! Loads of people had shitty childhoods but they don't go off and blow up a building full of kids!"

Anders slammed the glasses back against the workbench and rounded to face her. "Sera, what in the Maker's name are you talking about?" he demanded.

For the first time he'd known her, Sera actually hesitated. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, and he could see an unfamiliar doubt in her eyes. "You uh... Kirkwall's a city, innit?" she said, her voice having lost some of its vitriol. "City's got kids, kids don't have a home, the chantry takes in people with no home, you blow up a chantry. Stands to reason, doesn't it?"

Anders couldn't stop a bitter laugh. "You've obviously never been to Kirkwall."

"So what? One city's the same as another," Sera exclaimed.

"Kirkwall was different." Anders frowned at the memories. "Yes, of course there were street kids and orphans in Kirkwall. I should know because most of them ended up in my clinic, one way or another. There were dozens of them underfoot in Darktown at any given time. Lirene, Selby and the others, we did our best to provide for them.

He looked Sera squarely in the eye. "But never in all the years I lived in Kirkwall did I see a single one of them in the Chantry. That wasn't something the Kirkwall Chantry did. There was no room for the poor and suffering in among the golden statues and expensive candles."

"You're lying!" Sera objected. "That's… that's what people like you do, you lie to make yourselves look better."

"You can ask Varric if you don't believe me," Anders said wearily. "It was his home too, and he certainly hates me enough these days that he has no reason to lie for me."

Sera's frown intensified, her expression shifting minutely as she struggled with this. At last she crossed her arms over her chest and let out a huff of air. "That still doesn't make it okay!" she said. "Loads of people still died 'cos of you."

"Yes."

"Then why did you do it?!" she demanded.

"Because..." Anders sighed. "Because I do care. Because sometimes, you do terrible things because you care, because the alternative -- doing nothing -- is worse."

Sera scoffed again. "Nug shit!"

"Think so?" he raised a sarcastic brow at her. "Ask your friend, the Inquisitor. I have a feeling she's learned a thing or two about doing things she didn't enjoy, because the alternative was worse."

Sera glared at him one final time, then stormed out.

That seemed to be the end of it; at least, she didn't come into his office again. But the jeers and dirt-throwing from the second story of the tavern ceased, and one time a week later, he opened the door to find a pile of ripe fruit on his doorstep.

That, he supposed, was more than he cold have hoped for.

#anders meets the inner circle #dating age 2 #mikke fic #sera #anders #sit in judgment: anders

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