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therealvinelle · 3 years

Note

What if it was Charlie and Bella that switched bodies upon Bella's arrival at Forks?

Oh, god, the awkwardness.

The only thing worse than being a shy, virgin teenaged girl in her father's body, having to figure out how dress in the morning and pee, is being a middle-aged man in his teenaged daughter's body.

Charlie and Bella are both shy and awkward people and it's very possible they would just die. Both of them. The embarrassment might just prove too much to handle.

If, however, it didn't, and they have to live like this...

Bella's education can't be put on hold, and Charlie can't afford to stop going to work.

They'd have to impersonate each other in their respective zones - Charlie goes to high school and brings the homework back to Bella, and Bella goes to work for Charlie and brings the paperwork home. At home they suffer terribly under the awkwardness of it all.

Bella as Chief Swan

She goes to work, and has no idea what she's doing. Someone is drunk in public and needs escorting home? Bella reeeeally doesn't want to be the one to do that. Or should she be arresting them?

She performs poorly at work, and relies completely on her colleagues for even basic judgement calls. Which is bad because she's supposed to be the sheriff, not them. From being a seasoned cop, chief Swan has suddenly become a jumpy rookie.

Charlie, hearing about this at home, is tearing his hair out and seriously worried about losing his job over this.

He has to tell Bella to take out a sick leave. She jumps on that.

Charlie as Isabella Swan

He goes to school, and is every bit as awkward as the new girl in class as Bella is, only with the added dimension that he's hanging around his friends' kids and that's... it's weird, it's just weird.

Weirder still is Biology class.

He's always had a high opinion of the Cullens. It's a good, wholesome family.

Or so he thought.

There is something wrong with that Cullen kid.

Charlie spends that Biology class feeling increasingly alarmed by Edward's behavior.

When Edward takes a leave of absence for a week after that he's not sure what to think. It's not enough to send Bella to have a chat with the boy's father, he'd only be putting more stress on his already stressed out daughter, but... Charlie doesn't like this. He doesn't like this at all.

Edward returns to schoo, and starts making small talk with Charlie, suddenly Mr. Polite.

It becomes real clear to Charlie, real quick, as Edward asks questions and is interested in Bella, that this kid is flirting with his daughter.

Oh, no. No. No for all the reasons. This kid is a creep, he looks creepy, and even if he was alright, Charlie absolutely cannot encourage any romantic endeavors while in his daughter's body. Oh no.

He cuts off Edward's questions with a polite, but firm "Sorry, not interested."

Edward is agog.

He is agog, astonished, mortified, and offended.

Who does this girl think she is?!

He shuts right up, and spends the rest of the day stewing. So this is what's happening in this girl's brain. It's not that she's not talking to the other students because she's mysterious and on a higher mental plane, nope, she's just that much of a stuck up.

"Not interested"?!

He recovers well enough, or, well enough to go talk to her after school that day.

He's standing by her car when she gets to it, smiling crookedly. "Hello, Bella," he murmurs, leaning against the driver door. (Can't have her leave before they've talked.)

Charlie blanches.

His instincts were right about this kid.

He finds himself suddenly glad he and Bella swapped bodies. He's an adult and a cop, he knows how to deal with this kind of situation. Bella is safe elsewhere.

This kid can look forward to a juvenile restraining order.

"Hello, Cullen," he says civilly, not wanting to escalate the situation. "Would you please move?"

Edward's boyish smile widens. "I just want a quick word with you, if that's alright," he says, not moving. He lowers his chin, and looks up at Charlie through his eyelashes. "It seems I gave you the wrong idea earlier."

Is this the kid's idea of making like he's not flirting with Charlie's daughter?

"I see," is all Charlie says, and throws a pointed look at the car door. "Look, I really do need to leave. I have to be at work in fifteen minutes."

Edward's lip twitches. Does she really.

At this point, he doesn't want her to get away so easy, if only out of spite. Again, who does this girl think she is.

"How about I give you a ride?" he asks politely, still smiling. Nevermind that he knows her scent would become overwhelmingly strong if they were in a car together. It's overwhelmingly strong as it is.

God, that scent.

Charlie, meanwhile, hearing those words, watching that kid's eyes look less and less human by the minute, is suddenly wishing he had a tazer. Scratch that, a gun.

Thank god it's him in this situation, and not his daughter.

"No thank you," he says tightly.

Well then.

Edward tried, he really did.

He gave her several chances.

All too aware of the many witnesses in the parking lot he lets Bella get into her car, and then once she parks her house in the driveway (of course she was lying about work!) and no one is there to see, he whisks her away to be killed in the woods.

The aftermath

Charlie-as-Bella is murdered in the woods, it's horrible, then suddenly he's back in his own body.

He tries to find the place he was taken to, desperate to find her, to find something, but Edward was moving at a pace where he couldn't see at all where he was going.

A funeral is held.

The Cullens show up, Edward sporting a pair of black aviators.

He goes to Billy, tells him what happened, that he was right about the Cullens being demons. They killed his daughter, and god knows who else they're going to kill.

Billy is horrified, but ultimately not surprised. The Cullens were lying about their intentions, then.

The treaty is void, and the Cullens have to die.

As Sam and others start phasing, they start preparing for war.

And this is where I'll leave this AU of, as we're headed towards a bloodbath.

#charlie swan #bella swan #edward cullen #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #the cullens #billy black

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effei-s · 3 years

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What shatter-me Warner would do.

The fastest character assassination I’ve ever seen.

Here’s the thing: Warner from original trilogy had character arch. More important: he was a character.

He was mean, villainous, cold, cruel murderer, with daddy who basically bought him regency (like come on, if it wasn’t for Anderson no one would even think about giving him that position; n for nepotism), but he also was deeply traumatized and abused his whole life and had little to none normal human interactions. I loved that fact that the only good thing he did (killing Fletcher because he was abusing his family) resolved into a complete catastrophe (Anderson killing children and wife) because Warner didn’t think it through. He tried to do the right thing and failed miserably, because he was more concerned with making a spectacle for Juliette. And after that he still had the audacity to paint himself as a hero who saved poor family from terrible tyrant in Ignite me.

I didn’t expect him to act and think like a human being. He didn’t need to act like a normal human. Warner gas lighting Juliette in the first third of ignite me is Warner’s thing to do. Him yelling and throwing tantrums and making scenes in Unravel me is Warner’s thing to do. Him forcing Juliette to do things she doesn’t want and traumatizing her in the process in Shatter me is Warner’s thing to do. Him wanting to torture Adam to death is Warner’s thing to want.

There’s a few reasons for this:

a) he doesn’t know how to communicate with people other than giving them orders or making threats;

b) he truly believes that he’s in the right here (he doesn’t see himself as a bad guy in Juliette story, more like a knight on a white horse);

c) he’s physically unable to be honest with himself and always has someone to blame for his own mistakes and failures;

d) he’s ‘results justify the means’ kind of guy.

Changes for good, with trauma that deep, when you basically don’t have a moral compass, don’t happen over night.

Was his ignite-me arch made sloppy? Yes. Everything was too info-dumpy and too convenient (Juliette forgetting that Warner was going to torture Adam to death; Juliette feeling that she’s the one who needs to apologize; Leila’s entire character used only for a sob story; Adam turned into a douchebag so Warner would look a more suitable love interest, etc). But it still was an arch. And the finale of ignite me was so open I really could imagine that, little by little, in the future, he will start to trust people more and really gonna help Juliette and co to make the world a better place. And his redemption arch wasn’t finished in the slightest, and I would even say that it was only the beginning of it, but it was implied that things will get better from there (the most important part of that being him genuinely wanting to make things right with Adam and James; he’s the one who makes the first step and initiate the bond).

So what went wrong in new three books? Ehm… everything, to be honest. Instead of developing a character that was already there, she decided to give him a new personality. Actually it can be said about every single one of characters, but Warner just happened to be the biggest victim of them all.

Let’s look at Restore me.

Okay, we have his pov, and I never thought I would say it but… Warner is kinda dumb. He’s supposed to be this military strategy genius, someone who knows how RE works from within and… it turns out that he just as clueless as Juliette. More than this, we never actually see him do ANYTHING except fucking Juliette. And for some reasons he never helps Juliette with her work??? There’s so much paperwork and instead of helping her to sort though it he’s… just not there???

Those stupid long monologues about how she’s capable to do anything mean nothing if he doesn’t actually help (as we can see at the end of restore me, when Juliette gets captured).

That fact that he doesn’t immediately check if Castle’s words are true? And instead of helping Juliette with Haider (telling everything he knows about him and his family, preparing her for the dinner) he fucks her??? This is a dumb bitch shit. And maybe you didn’t noticed but Shatter-me Warner wasn’t a dumb bitch.

After all, there’s a simple reason I never wanted the job of supreme commander myself—

I never wanted the responsibility.

It’s a tremendous amount of work with far less freedom than one might expect; worse, it’s a position that requires a great deal of people skills. The kind of people skills that include both killing and charming a person at a moment’s notice. Two things I detest.

Remember shatter-me Warner who wanted power because power meant that he could have control over his life? Remember shatter-me Warner who wanted to work with Juliette as a team to change the world? Yeah that’s him now.

No personal ambitions allowed when you’re a walking dildo, I guess.

Off the topic, but Mafi really enjoys making Juliette stupid as fuck:

“Oh, yes, of course,” she says, remembering. “I’ve gotten a bunch of letters about that. I didn’t realize it was such a big deal.”

Let's continue.

Hurting Haider would be enough to start a world war.

Warner says and then Juliette threatens Haider, a foreign official on a diplomatic mission, and instead of being even a little bit worried and think about possible consequences, Warner thinks this:

But I can only smile at her. I want to scoop her up and carry her away. Take her somewhere quiet and lose myself in her.

Okay, I guess it’s official, there’s sperm inside of his head instead of brain cells. I can’t find any other explanation for this clownery.

Shatter-me Warner would… Shatter-me Warner won’t be in this situation in the first place.

Someone tries to kill Juliette and Warner does… nothing about it. He never goes to check the body of the assassin himself. He thinks that Nazeera hides something and he still allows her to go around and doesn’t even interrogate her when Juliette says that Nazeera was there at the moment of the attack. He doesn’t find it even a little bit suspicious? That guy who had tremendous trust issues in the original trilogy? Remember him? Yeah, that guy. Shatter-me Warner would lock Nazeera and Haider up and demanded answers. Shatter-me Warner would be angry as fuck, and would try to kill Kenji with his bare hands, because Kenji was stupid enough to leave Juliette alone. Shatter-me Warner wouldn’t stop until he had answers (and the head of a person who wanted to kill Juliette on a plate).

New Warner is too busy feeling sorry for himself to actually do anything about it. And after one chapter it’s completely forgotten, like that fact that someone tried to kill her is not important at all.

And then Castle enters the picture with his stupid and sloppy info-dumping (I guess Mafi never heard of ‘show don’t tell’ rule). And says this:

“She can’t lead this resistance,” he says, squinting at something in the distance. “She’s too young. Too inexperienced. Too angry. You know that, don’t you?”

and if that wasn’t enough he also says this:

“It should’ve been you,” Castle says. “I always secretly hoped—from the day you showed up at Omega Point—that it would’ve been you. That you would join us. And lead us.” He shakes his head. “You were born for this. You would’ve managed it all beautifully.”

AND HE’S STILL ALIVE AFTER?

This is a fucking treason right there. And Warner A-OKAY with this.

Shatter-me Warner would strangle him right there. Or better yet, he would go along with this until he has 100% evidences of Castle’s betrayal and then he would kill him. Or he would kill him simply because Castle was withholding important information and earlier in books he put Juliette in a great danger by sending her to Anderson without telling her the truth (unravel me).

But not this Warner. New Warner is far more concerned with fucking Juliette then helping her or looking for a way out of this situation (because now he has dick instead of a brain).

After my father’s revelation, my thirst for information became suddenly insatiable. I needed to know more—who these people were, where they’d come from, how much we’d known—

WHERE AND WHEN DID WARNER IN PREVIOUS BOOKS DISPLAY THIS?

When I say that Mafi simply forgot her own characters this is what I mean. Warner from original trilogy didn’t give a flying fuck about them. He thought that they were weak and stupid.

I will lose her.

And it will kill me.

He said this shit and after he nearly had a panic attack because he imagined her dating someone else? Oh, come on, how more pathetic can he get?

There are words for this kind of behavior: toxic codependency.

Oh wait wait! I know! This is not Warner! This is Edward Cullen disguised as Warner! The mystery is solved!

Oh, he fucks her again. Apparently it’s the only thing he’s good at. What a character! The layers! The complexity!

And then Lena came into the picture.

Until that moment I was more or less okay with Warner. Yes, I was very confused, but I was ready to give Mafi benefit of the doubt. He lost his father and was dealing with grieve. We all can act out of character in the face of a tragedy or drastic changes.

“Why do you keep pressing this? Who cares if I’ve been with other women? They meant nothing to me—”

And there I felt in my guts, I’m not gonna like what next to come.

Haider was exhibiting suicidal tendencies. Self-harming. And I got really scared. I called Warner because I knew Haider would listen to him.” She shakes her head. “Warner didn’t say a word. He just got on a plane. And he stayed with us for a couple of weeks. I don’t know what he said to Haider,” she says. “I don’t know what he did or how he got him through it, but”—she looks off into the distance, shrugs—“it’s hard to forget something like that.

Oh, so Warner's words about how he never had any real interactions with anyone before Juliette were bullshit. About how he doesn’t understand people were also bullshit. About how Juliette was the first person who was not afraid to speak with him freely were also bullshit. Because all of the sudden he can help someone heavily depressed. Someone with suicide tendencies? Someone who harms himself? And now he has an ex-girlfriend who’s ready to beat the fuck out of him and calls him mean words (she clearly doesn’t fear him)?

Now his entire character in the first trilogy doesn’t make any sense. And his excuses don’t make any sense.

Bravo, Mafi! Bravo! This was the fastest character assassination I’ve ever seen.

She says that Lena was in love with him—really in love with him—but that Warner broke her heart, that he never treated her with any real affection and she’s hated him for it.

Oh, so he’s not only stupid and absolutely useless, he’s a fuckboy. And if there’s one thing I HATE, it’s fuckboys.

There’s a big-big-big difference between someone who has one-night-stands and THIS SHIT:

“You’re upset, I understand. But it’s not my fault you feel this way. I don’t love you. I never have. And I never led you to believe I did.”

“She and I,” he says, “it was—we were nothing. It was a relationship of convenience and basic companionship. It meant nothing to me. Truly,” he says, “you have to know—if I never said anything about her it was only because I never thought about her long enough to even consider mentioning it.”

“It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t two years of anything serious. It wasn’t even two years of continuous communication.” He sighs. “She lives in Europe, love. We saw each other briefly and infrequently. It was purely physical. It wasn’t a real relationship—”

So he despised her but used her for sex? WOW. Cool. He can go and trip over a fucking knife or fall out of the window for all I care.

“Everything in my life was different before I met you,” he says. “I was lost and all alone. I never cared for anyone. I never wanted to get close to anyone. I’ve never—you were the first person to ever—”

And how exactly he was able to help Haider with his self-harm then??? If he didn’t CaRe for anyone before Juliette?

This was the moment when Warner from original trilogy died in agony.

Okay, let’s see real quick what we have in Defy Me:

He thinks about escape but never really does anything to escape;

(anderson is the one who opens his cell;

he stands in front of a guy who murdered his mother and doesn’t even think about her, yeah I can see how important she was for him;

/again, shatter-me Warner would probably demanded answers, but not walking dildo, walking dildo cares only about Juliette. his excuse in ignite me 'i did it all for my mom' doesn't make any sense now, because he actually doesn't give a flying fuck about her/

he gets captures one minute after he “kills” Anderson;

nazeera is the one who gets him out of there;

super soldier taught his whole life how to survive, everyone. useless as fuck)

He doesn’t know anything about jewelry.

(super ooc, i know what Mafi was trying to do here: she tried ‘sherlock holmes doesn’t know that earth revolves around the sun’ thing Arthur Conan Doyle did, but the problem is WARNER IS A FASHIONISTA, or he was).

He wants to get married because…???

He sees a woman who tried to kill Juliette and he’s a-okay with staying at her place, because she said that it was actually a message (???).

Castle is still alive.

Nazeera who knew all this time about Anderson and was working for him is also alive and well.

Oh and he doesn’t care about Anderson being alive and being a real threat to Juliette (fucking her is more important for him, as usual).

His complete disregard for Juliette’s safety only makes me hate him more with every new book.

Imagine me.

First and foremost: don’t call imagine-me Warner shatter-me Warner. Don’t insult shatter-me Warner like that. With shatter-me Warner Anderson would have to try very hard to get to Juliette. It would be ‘Warner made 100 back-up plans, but Anderson knew him too well and created 101 plan and that’s how he managed to win’ kind of situations.

But walking dildo is too busy feeling sorry for himself (as usual), he just sits by her bed FOR TWO FUCKING DAYS, doing absolutely NOTHING to make sure she’ll be safe.

Nooira says that Juliette should be killed and she’s still alive for some reason.

He’s entire persona is that he’s rude to people (but not bbc’s sherlock holmes kind of rude, when he’s unbearable dick but he’s actually smart and really gets shit done, so we can tolerate him). He’s just rude.

He doesn't care about Adam or James's wellbeing (remember Ignite me Warner who really wanted a family? Yeah that's him now).

But he has gruppies now, because he’s hot and everyone in the sanctuary wants to fuck him.

Oh and he proposed to Juliette. HE PROPOSED. THEY ENGAGED! DO YOU HEAR ME??? THEY GONNA BE MARRIED! HE PROPOSED TO HER! AND SHE SAID YES! THEY GONNA MERRY!

Because god fucking forbid we forget about it.

(mafi really thinks that her readers have the mental capacity of a golden fish, huh?)

I lost count how many times walking dildo implies that he's gonna kill himself if Juliette is not with him (disgusting).

Then our walking dildo cures Juliette by the power of petting (it’s not power of love, lads and gents; you want to see love go watch defenders on netflix; mafi already copypasted elektra’s arch from that show into imagine-me Juliette, you can do yourself a favor and see how this trope can be executed without borderline on sexual assault petting scene).

18-old girl marries a fucking sociopath believing he’s actually a good person.

(we all know how shit like this ends, people like that don't change; and this 'he's different with me cuz i'm very special and i'm gonna teach him the right way' it's really harmful message considering that the audience of those books are mostly teenage girls).

Trust me, there's nothing revolutionary in this trope, it's tale as old as time.

Here's the thing, good written character always defined by connection to other people: friend, lovers, enemies, family, foes, acquaintances, even some random strangers. It's the easiest way to establish what kind of person they are.

Walking dildo doesn't have any of that because all of his "character" revolves around Juliette. He's not a person anymore. By the end of Imagine me he doesn't have friends (his relationships with Kenji or Haider non-existent), no family connections (no talks with Adam or James), even enemies or foes or even people that don't like him (because everyone wants to fuck him, because being hot is his only character trait).

His only family and friend is Juliette. And you know what? It's fucking boring, overdone and lazy as fuck. And insulting to the character he once was.

No redemption arch, no character arch at all.

Happy end.

#i'm gonna pretend that second trilogy doesn't exist #long-ass post #shatter me series #shatter me #aaron warner #nazeera ibrahim #kenji kishimoto #paris anderson #juliette ferrars #eff writes #meta #restore me #defy me #imagine me #fantasy books #tahereh mafi #character analysis

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gisellelx · 3 years

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Consider this ask a general prompt for any nerding you would like to do for us re: linguistic thoughts about various Cullens. Also: any particular headcanons of how they've influenced each other's speech in general? (I was going to say re: Edward emulating Carlisle but that might not be the most interesting example)

Okay commence much belated nerding out. Relevant post.

Under a cut because sorry, I went to town here. tl;dr--the Cullens sound different to each other, and their backgrounds and relationships have affected the way they sound over time. But they all can sound exactly how they need to any time they need to.

Here are two useful things we know about why people do or do not change the way they talk.

Communities of practice: this is a concept which comes from education but which has gotten adopted in several adjacent fields, including sociology and linguistics. Basically, the idea is, the way you talk will reflect the kinds of relationships you want to have with people around you, and how you want to draw lines separating your group from other groups. My easiest-to-understand example of this is that my friends from college athletic bands had some terms and inside practices which arose because of our shared experience of playing in those bands. We were in band twenty years ago, but if you're having drinks with a few other bandos and leave the bar, someone will go "ohhhhh see ya!" like the cheer we yell when someone gets put in the penalty box at a hockey game.

Convergence and accommodation: Speakers often try to sound like people they want to connect with in more than just practices and inside jokes. The more you want to connect with someone (combined with your personality), the more likely you are to adopt their style of speaking. This is in the short term, which is accommodation (you start to speak more slowly because the person you're speaking with speaks more slowly) or dialect convergence (over time your whole way of sounding starts to shift toward other people's.) Some evidence that extroverts do this faster, but it also depends on how desirable the connection is.

Convergence is probably more influential for the Cullens than CoP, although I imagine there are some CoP kinds of things that happen to vampires more broadly and the Cullens specifically. In particular, I suspect (and write) that the Cullens have lots of euphemisms for things: they talk about "mistakes" to avoid talking about murder, about "Royce" and "Charles" to avoid uttering the word rape, Edward's rebellion is called The Time or Edward's Sojourn (that's Carlisle).

The bigger question is, how would they sound and how would they naturally converge (or not!) based on their personalities and relationship.

So. You have the Cullens. Kind of a rough-and-tumble rundown of their varieties:

Carlisle: I headcanon Boston Brahmin . In the 1700s, the London accent was /r/-full, so Carlisle would've arrived to the US sounding more like a current-day American speaker than we associate now with British English (received pronunciation usually being the exported one). He would've hobknobbed with the educated elite on the eastern seaboard and picked up what they sounded like at the time. He loves being American--this is where he found his purpose and his family. So shifting toward that accent makes sense for him.

Esme: Lower middle class US midlands. The central Ohio accent is often perceived to be extremely neutral. It's not--there are some truly funky features--but people think it is, so there's not much reason to move away from it. She might have tried her hand at a transatlantic accent, but she slides back into her middle Ohioan often, because it's easy and it's not usually considered "bad" anywhere. She makes fun of the way Carlisle says rather. He teases her about how bag and egg are the same sound for her.

Edward: Northern Cities Shifted Chicago. If you've ever heard a Chicagoan pronounce the word Chicago, well, there you go. I realize this probably fucks with the gentle, sexy attempt-at-American accent delivered by Robert Pattinson. Edward was born too late to have transatlantic imposed on him, and so his accent was probably left to be.

Rosalie: Another reason they hate each other--they sound alike. Rosalie is on the other side of the Great Lakes, was born not that much later, and Rochester is another major source of Northern Cities Shift. So she and Edward sound...pretty much the same. They're both upper middle class/upper class and are picking up the prestige version of the NCVS.

Emmett: Appalachian. Pretty much enough said. The post I linked at the outset lays out a few things from Appalachian speech.

Jasper: East Texan. Texas is not general southern--there are a handful of features which make it notably different than say, Louisiana.

Alice: Upper class Mississippian. Now, this is somewhat indistinguishable to a northern American or non-American ear--maaaaybe you notice sort of "high class southern" but it's subtle. She's got a bunch of features of southern English, though, but the more prestigious versions of them. Not quite To Kill a Mockingbird--that's Alabama-- but that's not a bad place to start to hear it.

So that's where they're starting. Where do they end up?

Carlisle: sticks with Brahmin. The moment he arrived in the US means a lot to him, and so he defaults back to that first major change, when he adopted an American identity.

Edward: Probably goes without saying, but he sounds exactly like Carlisle. He shifted his default as soon as he was able, and his intense adoration of Carlisle means he converged on Carlisle's variety. He also picks up Carlisle's idiolect--particular phrases and verbal tics--again, because he wants to be like Carlisle in any way he can. "Oh my God will you quit; you're not Carlisle" is a phrase that gets uttered in annoyance often.

Esme: Keeps her central Ohio accent. She loves Carlisle more than anything, but there's nothing particularly stigmatized about her variety. So she keeps it. She's happy to be her own person.

Rosalie: Does not wish to be a part of this family and regrets her change. She certainly does not converge toward Carlisle's style, but the pressure of sounding anything like Edward, even if his dialect has shifted, is also grating. She brings her NCVS a little more toward Esme's Ohio variety over time.

Emmett: This man killed a bear* with his bare hands in the Smoky Mountains. He's real proud of being a mountain man and he sounds like one. He also has a healthy disdain for the upper-crustness of Carlisle and Rosalie and Edward and is determined to bring them back down to earth. Over time the most obvious parts of his dialect do fade--he doesn't use "a huntin'" very often, for instance. But he can shift into full on Appalachian on a dime and often does. It's fun for him.

Jasper: Stays East Texas. He's very proud of his cowboy identity, and is the least connected to the Cullen family as a community of practice. He can sound like whatever his paperwork says he does, but in default, he's still got the same Houston variety he's had for two centuries. I don't love darlin' darlin' Jasper in fic but I chalk that more up to writers learning how to have a light hand with dialect rather than it being something he fundamentally wouldn't say--he absolutely does say it. Also says bless your heart.

Alice: Biloxi is not that far from Houston, and she and Jasper, who are wound around each other, pick up each other's verbal mannerisms and reinforce subtle aspects of each other's gulf of Mexico accents. She both mellows Jasper's Texas English while also moving her own English toward his.

So in "default" mode, the Cullens sound a little different to each other. But there's no way a Twipire would somehow be unable to move perfectly and seamlessly between multiple English accents as they needed to. There's no reason to think that any of them showed up at Forks High School sounding like anything but exactly what their paperwork said their dialectal background ought to be.

*by the way this would've been a black bear, not a grizzly. I'm sure he loves grizzlies, but he wasn't fighting a grizzly in the Smokies. He probably got tangled up with a really mad mama bear. This is a pet peeve of mine, I admit.

#linguistics #twilight #accents #cullen family #carlisle cullen #esme cullen #edward cullen #rosalie hale #alice cullen #jasper hale #long post #giselle gets too srs bsns #tw: rape mention

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prime-pulse · 3 years

Text

After-Party

Word Count: 1,706 Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition Characters: Varric Tethras, Edric Cadash (The Inquisitor) Content Warnings: Alcohol consumption

Celebration rang throughout Skyhold. Music clambered up the courtyard walls, the sounds of people laughing and shouting echoed in the main hall. The smell of sugary wine and pompous desserts was almost sickening to the stomach, if not alluring. The sounds of shuffling feet; dancing, running, jumping— People were happy, people were excited. A victory well deserved for the Inquisition.

After many long months of destroying Red Templar forces, soldiers, workers, advisors and companions alike could breathe out a sigh of relief— if only briefly. They let their shoulders relax, they unclenched their jaws— This, this was the victory they had so desperately needed. The Inquisition worked hard to help people, from all walks of life— it believed in second chances, it believed in correcting past wrongs for the sake of the greater good— And now, for the first time since Haven, people from all around were allowed to just be. They partied, they sang, they cried and they drank. To describe the feeling the Inquisitor felt in response to the celebration couldn’t be described as anything short of euphoria.

And yet, he kept close to the walls. He took the back ways to get up to the second floor of the castle. He did what he could to remain small and unseen, despite being one of the biggest people in all of Thedas at the moment. The journey to the Well of Sorrows, the Eluvian, had been an important one— one the people were excited and happy to have won, but the inquisitor himself did not want to interfere with the festivities. He saw the way most people acted when he attempted to join in on conversation— they’d tense, and choose their words carefully, while still trying to attempt to look like they were having a fun time. He knew countless people out there would kill for a conversation with the inquisitor, he knew countless people out there were practically dying just to see him walk by. And yet, he kept to the walls, he kept in quiet, pleasant exchanges with those who had the courage to walk up to him. And he preferred it that way.

As the night continued on, and people slowly began to return to their tents and rooms, Edric found himself wandering the gardens with a wine glass he’d barely sipped on the entirety of the night. It was a golden liquid, and were it not for the smell and the way it moved when he swirled the glass it could’ve been mistaken for run-of-the-mill mead. It tasted like a dry honey, with the strong aftertaste you’d get with a rich red wine. He didn’t know what it was, but he liked it. He wanted to savor it, even if there was more stored in the kitchens. The dwarf took a sip from his glass before he decided to sit beneath the pavilion in the now empty garden (save for a few younger recruits in the shadows stealing kisses from their partners), staring up into the clear night sky. He’d never seen stars like this before joining the Inquisition.

“Didn’t feel like joining the after-party?” A man hummed as he sat beside Edric with a loud sigh, dusting off his pants and readjusting his open shirt with his free hand- the other being occupied by a mug of Ferelden beer-, “I can’t blame ‘ya. Sera gets a lot more bow-happy when she’s drunk.”

“Hello, Varric.” Edric said with a smile, moving to set his glass down beside him and fold his hands over his lap. Varric laughed for a moment before setting his mug to the side as well, patting the other dwarf on the shoulder.

There was a long bit of a comfortable silence between the two, as they both stared up at the sky for a long time. The sound of music from the nearby tavern quietly hummed in the air, the singing of crickets and other insects filling the rest of the void.

“So, gardens, huh?” Varric hummed after a good ten minutes, Edric then chuckling as he went to reach for his glass.

“It’s quieter here. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to all the noise that comes with these parties,” Edric said before he took a sip of his wine, “But they’re fun. I do enjoy being able to talk with soldiers and Skyhold staff— usually I’d be too busy running around, ‘Make sure you sign this off for Leiliana, Cullen!’ ‘Cole, I need to talk to you about stealing radishes from the kitchen staff.’ ‘Sera, I need to talk with you about the frogs you released in the library.’ ‘Oh, two farm hands are having a disagreement in the Hinterlands? Guess I’ll put my MOUND of paperwork aside to go deal with it PERSONALLY!’ You know, far too busy to converse with anyone.” Edric snickered to himself, Varric offering a bit of a breathy laugh.

“Yeah, I… I’m sure it’s a lot.” He nodded, head tilting to the side so he could glance back up at the sky, “Glad you had fun, though, even if you stuck to the corner the entire time.” The dwarf then grinned, Edric rolling his eyes and shoving Varric’s shoulder lightly. “Hey, careful! I paid good gold for this coat, and I’ll have to go complain to Josephine if you rough it up!” Varric said with a laugh, Edric’s hand hovering over his own mouth while he snickered.

“I just like staying away from the center of the room sometimes, it’s nice when you’re usually in the center all of the time,” Edric said with a shrug, taking another sip from his glass— he paused for a bit before he continued, “I’m still not used to this whole… Thing. Being in charge, leading people. I’m happy to be apart of it, and help people, but…” He shook his head, running a hand through his loosely tied back hair. “I’m worried that sounds selfish.”

“It’s not selfish to want a normal life for yourself— or maybe it is, and you are sent by The Maker, and it’s incredibly selfish to want that— but it doesn’t matter even if it is. Everyone’s entitled to wantin’... A normal life.” Varric shrugged, then pausing, “At least more normal than this. I think if I didn’t get to use Bianca I’d die.” He took a swig from his mug, nose wrinkling at the taste of the contents.

“I suppose.” Edric muttered, “You know, back when I was in the Carta, we used to have parties. None on this level, of course, we mainly just sat around and drank and pretended we were all having a ball sitting in the same room as one another—” Varric snorted, “— But we always had them after we’d completed a difficult job. It became sort of a staple thing; if someone… Lost an arm, or someone died, we’d have a silent drink in their honor and call it a party. Or, if the job went good and nothing catastrophic happened, we’d have a silent drink in our honor and call it a party! I guess I’m just too used to the whole… Silent part.” Edric shrugged with a confused expression on his face, Varric giving him a grin.

“For someone so used to silence, you do talk a lot.”

“You are my worst bully, Varric. You are so mean to me.”

The two laughed together for a moment, returning to a comfortable silence. Edric kept his eyes on the sky, Varric’s eyes curiously following the moving of a few figures in the shadows.

“That does explain a bit, though. You know, I don’t think I ever saw you smile until we saw Skyhold for the first time? You cracked jokes, sure, but you always said ‘em with a straight face.” Varric said, looking toward Edric with a lazy grin, “Did your clan just… Not deal with the whole feelings thing?”

“I didn’t— Well, wow, look at how far I’ve come. I didn’t ever notice I hadn’t…” Edric laughed and rubbed at the back of his neck, shaking his head, “It’s… Complicated. It’s not like my clan is full of people who don’t experience any emotions or feelings, we just… It got in the way of work, in our eyes. You can’t work efficiently and effectively if you’re caught up with anxiety or dread over something unrelated, you can’t focus if you’re too busy thinking about some pretty human you saw at the last town— Mother always taught us to keep our heads held high and our minds focused.” He shrugged, absentmindedly swirling the glass in his hand while his foot tapped on the stone below them. “It’s not that we don’t feel anything— Not that I didn’t, I was just… Focused. I think seeing Skyhold snatched that focus away from me, now I babble on and on with no clear direction about what I’m talking about, and— Ah. See?”

Varric laughed a bit, shaking his head, “It’s alright, it’s alright. It’s been nice seeing you come out of your shell almost completely the last couple months. From stone-faced warrior to… Still a warrior, but now he bakes cookies.” He shrugged with a snicker, Edric laughing. “What I mean to say, is, it’s nice seeing you be… I don’t know, comfortable here. I’m glad that even if all this is stressful as shit, you’ve found your people. I mean, what, you’ve walked in the fade and now you’re imbued with the power of some magic well? At least you’ve got friends, I guess!” Varric threw up one of his hands, then shaking his head as he lowered it back down.

“Friends are all I could ask for.” Edric smiled, moving to give Varric a firm pat on the shoulder, “And you, despite your rampant bullying of me, Varric, are a great friend.”

“Hah. You too, ‘Quisitor.” Varric smiled, returning the pat on Edric’s shoulder.

Returning to their drinks, the two fell into silence again, both looking up at the sky until it came time for even them to retire to bed. A celebration well earned. A celebration, the Inquisitor hoped, that spelt the beginning of at least a few years of well-earned rest once this was all over.

#this is unedited lol #Dragon age inquisiton #da:i #dai #Varric tethras #the inquisitor #inquisitor cadash #dragon age #da #da:i fanfic #dai fanfic #OC: Edric Bonehunter

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specialagentlokitty · 4 years

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Twilight x reader - safe

Can I Have A Tokyo Ghoul And Twilight Crossover? Male Reader Is Kaneki's Twin Brother, And Half A Ghoul Like Him. Reader Ended Up In The Twilight Universe When The CCG Used A Experimental Bomb. So Reader Moves To Forks To Be A Teacher The Cullens Realize He Isn't Human And Goes To Confront Him. - @rexburn12 💕

You were surrounded, there was no way out. Everywhere you looked the CCG was there.

I guess that’s the price you paid for being one of the most dangerous ghouls there was. You hoped you would be able to find your brother, but the white haired ghoul was no where to be seen.

“Sir, we have Raven surrounded. I repeat, we have him surrounded.” An investigator whispered.

You stood on edge, kagune flicking behind you, ready to strike if you needed to. But you didn’t want to, you didn’t want to hurt anyone. You hated hurting the investigators, it was the only reason why you were rated so dangerous. The one eyed ghoul, the raven. That was you.

You could see the same man who spoke nodded his head along, and with one hand movement everyone took a few steps back. It confused you.

“We’ll give you one chance to surrender Raven!” He yelled.

You didn’t reply and he pulled something from his pocket, presses something and threw it.

“Kaneki!” You hopelessly yelled.

You had no time to react, as soon as it hit the floor it went off and everything went black.

It felt like days before you came too, it was raining, your clothes were soaked and you were laying behind a bin.

Groaning, you pulled your mask off and tucked it into you jacket, pulling out your phone check the date but it was dead.

With a racing heart, you were quick to put your eye patch on.

Thankfully you did seem to be hungry, so staying in control would be a lot easier than you thought.

Stepping out from behind the bin and into the street you looked around, sweeping some hair from your face in order to see properly.

You had no clue where you were, and there was no one there so you started to wonder around, that’s when you noticed it.

A small shop, quickly rushing in to get out of the rain, you awkwardly looked around.

“Oh dear! You’re soaked to the bone!” An old woman rushed out.

“Come! Come! Let’s get you dried off!”

The woman walked around the racks of clothes, pulling things off and holding them against you, once she was satisfied she sent you to changed then sat you in front of a fire with some hot coffee.

“Where am I ma’am?” You asked politely.

“Forks of course, was it a rough night out?” She chuckled.

Forks... you never heard of it, and it was an odd name for a town.

“No ma’am I’m not from around here.” You sighed, “is there anywhere I might be able to work?”

The old woman, Marie, as she finally introduced herself after asking for you name, hummed.

“Ah, Yes! I know the high school has been looking for a new math teacher if you’re interested.”

You were pretty decent at math, so you should be able to get away with it. You didn’t have any form of document but you were sure you could figure something out.

“That sounds good, thank you.”

“It’s no problem dear, I’ve got a spare room above the shop that needs renting out too if you need first two months on me while you get settled.”

Thanking her again, you let her show you upstairs before you begun to work on forging some things. Being a ghoul had its perks, you learnt some useful skills like mask making, survival and you knew how to forge paperwork in order to make a live for yourself.

A few days later you had an interview, and a week after that you finally started at your new job.

It was 9:00am, you were stood with a cup of black coffee in front of our first class.

“Hello, I’m (Y/N)...” shit... last name... “(L/N), I’ll be your new math teacher. It’s a pleasure to meet you all. Today I’d just like to spend some time getting to know you all.”

As they introduced themselves, Alice and Jasper caught your attention. One sniff of the air and it was clear they weren’t human, but by the looks of it they couldn’t tell you weren’t. After all, you were technically half human still.

“Excuse me sir?” Alice asked softly.

“Yes miss Cullen?”

She gestured to one of her eyes.

“Why do you have an eye patch.”

Shit... you didn’t expect that question either. You had to think fast.

“I have a rare eye condition and it gets infected a lot, it’s easier this way.”

It wasn’t smooth as you hoped, but she seemed to buy it.

As time passed and you met more of the Cullen teens the more you noticed they weren’t human, and the more you noticed that they were getting suspicious of you as well.

On a walk back from work, you tried your best to avoid crowded places. It had been a while since you last ate, but it wasn’t like home where you could ask Touka or Kaneki to get you food, here you had to do it yourself but you couldn’t.

You were so wrapped up in your head you didn’t even realise you were surrounded until it was too late.

Startled, you jumped back, hands raised defensively until you noticed it was the Cullen teens with two others, whom you assumed to be their “parents”.

“We just wish to talk, my name is Carlisle Cullen, this is Esme. You already know I children.” Carlisle spoke carefully.

You nodded slowly, letting your guard down a little bit. Emmett, Jasper and Edward all seemed on the defence though, ready to jump in if they had to, while Rosalie and Alice just stood on the side lines, carefully watching you.

“My name is (Y/N).”

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” Esme asked next.

You nodded slowly, Where was this heading?

“Jasper and Emmett have both raised concerns that you aren’t quite as you seem.”

Carlisle seemed to choose his words carefully, trying to to fully state anything for sure.

“I could say the same for you and your family Mr Cullen. You aren’t human, are you?”

Everyone teased up and starting getting restless.

“Enough.” Carlisle warned them.

“How did you know?” Esme asked.

“I... could smell the difference on my first day.”

“Do you mind explaining how you could?” Carlisle asked.

You sighed, looking around nervously before nodding. It was just you guys, and since you knew they weren’t human maybe they could help you.

“Everyone else in that class when they came through I could smell the blood running through them, a sweet smell. But with Alice and Jasper I couldn’t smell a single thing. That was my first clue. I put it together bit by bit afterwards.”

Carlisle and Esme nodded along, giving you a smile of comfort.

“We’re vampires, different from out kind. We only feed on animals. What are you?”

You gulped, they didn’t hunt humans... the couldn’t help.... but you couldn’t refuse them either.

Slowly you reached up and pulled you eyes patch off, keeping your eye closed as the other turnt to them all before you slowly opened it. The outside was pure black while what was meant to be (E/C) was a blood red.

“You’re eye!” Alice gasped, “what happened!?”

You laughed a little and shook your head.

“Nothing per say. My brother and I... were involved in an accident, and we had the organs of a ghoul put in us. As a result we both have one ghoul eye. I’m known as the Raven, and Kaneki is Eyepatch. Im a Triple S rated ghoul, very dangerous. We can’t eat human foods anymore, we have to live on human flesh. I never killed anyone, I still haven’t. I’d rather starve than harm someone.”

The Cullens gave you a look of sympathy, and lowered their guard instantly.

“I may be able to help you out if you’d like?” Carlisle offered, “but you’d have to agree to live by our rules.”

“Of course!”

You’d be able to live by their rules easily you knew that for a fact, and you’d be safer here for now. One day you’d find your way back to Kaneki and your family, but right now you didn’t want to go anywhere, you just wanted to live in peace

#twilight #twilight x reader #twilight x you #twilight imagine

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teentitanimals · 4 years

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Batfamily Switched AU

Not sure what to call this AU, but basically, what if the Core Kids (Dick, Babs, Jason, Tim, Cass, Steph, Damian) switched places with the New Kids? As in, the New Kids are the ones Bruce adopted, Bruce met first? Anyway, I wrote this at 3am

How the New Kids become the Core Kids

Harper and Cullen Row are the first kids. Harper is age 14 while Cullen is 8. Batman had saved them from getting gaybashed and beat up. Instead of returning them home, Bruce's heart is moved by seeing Harper cry her eyes out about not wanting to go back to her abusive dad, and then of Cullen crying about missing their dead mom. So, he finds enough evidence to put their dad in jail, and then Bruce Wayne adopts them. Harper ends up becoming Bluebird, figuring out on her own that Bruce is Batman.

Duke is Harper's Babs. An incident that happened during the day left his parents Jokerized, and his cousin Jay got custody of him. Duke became the Signal and started working during the daytime due to what happened to his parents. Batman and Bluebird would eventually confront him and officially let him be a member of the team. Duke would be age 14 when he becomes the Signal, and Harper is 16.

Henry Jr. and Claire come next. They were saved by Batman when they were younger, and had gained superpowers that drained their life force when used. They called themselves Gotham Guy and Gotham Girl, and Henry killed himself when he overused their powers after death. Claire, left broken and alone, was adopted by Bruce at age 14.

Carrie is Catgirl. Not Robin or Batgirl, as those mantles don't exist. She's more OOC in this universe. She's spiteful due to her parents lack of attention towards her and seeks to gain that attention by becoming a thief under the name Catgirl, inspired by Catwoman who does slightly take her under her wing, but encourages her to go home and stay safe. After she nearly dies and gets saved by Batman, she realizes she's on the wrong side of the fight. She starts fighting for good, and when Batman hears about her home life, he gathers enough evidence to jail her parents for child negligence, and Bruce Wayne adopts her. Carrie is age 12 when she first starts, and when Harper and Duke are 18 and 16.

Lance Bruner is the Jason Todd of this au. Canonically, he died and stayed dead. Here, he gets ressurected. He got adopted by Bruce due to the agreement between their two now dead fathers. Harper was 19, Duke 17, Claire 15, Carrie and Cullen are 13. Lance was adopted at age 14. In this au, Cullen has been managing the comms under the codename Oracle, and Lance, having found out the big secret, managed to get a voice changer and pretended to be Cullen on the comms. He thought Bruce didn't care about him, and that he never payed attention to him due to his other "siblings". He purposely put the Batfamily in danger, before realizing what he had done. He rushed out to save Batman, sacrificing himself on the process. He dies at age 14, nearly 15.

Helena Wayne crosses over from her world (Earth-2), but she's much younger, only 12. Her world was war torn, and her mother had used a Boom Toom to have Helena escape. Helena discovers and joins the Batfamily when Harper is pushed 20. Wanting to connect with her mother more, she asks Carrie if she can be the next Catgirl, and Carrie agrees, allowing Helena to become Catgirl while Carrie took on the new name of Huntress.

Next, Alina Wayne enters the picture. Her mother, Mariah Shelley, confronts Bruce about Alina being his. The canonical events happen where Mariah gets hit and put in a coma by the Joker, Joker kidnaps Alina, Batman rescues her, and she gets adopted by Bruce at age 9. Alina at age 11 wants to become a superhero, and Harper passes on the Bluebird mantle to her, becoming Nightwing, the name inspired by Superman's stories. Cullen becomes her Flamebird, leaving behind his days as Oracle.

When Lance is 16, he gets ressurected and then trained by the League of Assassins until he is 18. By then, Harper is 23, Duke is 21, Claire is 19, Carrie and Cullen are 17, Helena is 16, and Alina is 12. He takes on the name Red Hood and basically follows the same path Jason did. He feels as though his sacrifice was for nothing- Batman did nothing to get revenge for him, and he just replaced him with new kids, two biological daughters, anyway.

Run down of current positions: Harper is Nightwing (23), Duke is the Signal (21), Claire is Gotham Girl (19), Lance is Red Hood (18), Carrie is Huntress (17), Cullen is Flamebird (17), Helena is Catgirl (16), and Alina is Bluebird (12).

Now onto how the Core Kids become the New Kids

Dick comes in three years before Alina gets adopted. His parents are killed in the same manner, except there is no Bruce Wayne watching, although there still is a Tim Drake watching. He gets adopted by circus family that remains in Gotham. He gets inspired by the Batfamily and decides to strike out as Robin, age 10 (Harper is 20). Batman starts training him alongside Alina, and the two become good friends. The Robin mantle functions a little differently in this universe.

Barbara comes next. She comes in when Dick is 11 and she is 13. She wants to help fight crime, but she starts fighting in the daytime like Duke, just as Batgirl. She sort of becomes his sidekick, in a way.

When Dick is 15, Jason is 11 and living on the streets. Robin discovers him when he tries to steal his R-Cycle's tires. Dick gets Jason to go into the system in hopes to get him in a good family, but then they discover that this orphanage is actually a human trafficking ring. They both defeat it, and before Batman can even think to adopt Jason, Dick convinces his family to do so. Jason eventually dubs himself Red Robin, partner to Dick, who changes his alias to Blue Robin.

Enter Tim, who is still out stalking all of the Batfamily. He realizes that Dick is Blue Robin and deduces that Jason is Red Robin after that. When Dick is 17 and Jason is 13, Tim is 11. He chases down Dick and Jason and asks to join their "Robin group". Since We Are Robin does not exist in this universe, this is basically it's equal, in a way. Tim has to convince them by then deducing the rest of the Batfamily's identities, but they eventually allow him aboard as Yellow Robin. He functions more as an Oracle at first since Dick and Jason don't let him out until he has proper training.

Cassandra was raised by her father the same way as canon, and she ran away same way as canon. She pops in just around the same time as Tim, and she does it by saving Commissioner Gordon's life when she's 13. Barbara, age 18 at this point, is impressed, and takes her in legally as a ward (not adopted sadly due to the 5 year gal- they're more like sisters here). Cass works best at night, but since she is trained by Babs, she does operate during the daytime as well. Babs gives her the Batgirl mantle while she becomes Black Bat.

Also around the same time, Stephanie, age 12, becomes Spoiler for the same reasons as canon. She runs into the Robins more frequently than the Batfamily and therefore becomes closer to them. After her mother is killed, Dick gets his family to adopt her and she decides to become Purple Robin.

After her adoption, Tim's father is killed (his mother was killed awhile ago), and Dick's family adopts him.

All is well and easy going, until we enter Damian Wayne. Harper is 30 and Dick is 20. Damian is given to his father at age 10, but unfortunately, Batman is 'killed', and Harper takes up the mantle of Batman. Harper offers for Damian to stay with the family, and even briefly gives him the Bluebird title with Alina's permission, but he's too… well, Damian, and Harper is not Dick in this universe even if she's Nightwing. Damian runs away, but is hesitant to return to the League of Assassins. Luck would have it, the Robins find him. With a lot of push and shove, Dick eventually legally makes Damian his ward, giving him a reason to stay in Gotham since he was never made public as Bruce's child, and never adopted (although there was paperwork).

By the time Bruce comes back 'from the dead', Damian has made a name for himself as the Green Robin, and he doesn't want to leave his ragtag group of… siblings? Uncles and aunts? Family. Not sure exactly what they are, but they're family. Since Helena and Alina exist as Bruce's bio-kids already, Damian's "I am the One True Heir!" doesn't work, and his arrogance is stunted because of that. He found a place in the Robins where he never did in the Manor. So, Dick legally adopts him and he changes his name to Damian Grayson.

Eventually, the public would know Damian is Bruce's blood son, but the cover story would be that he was put in an orphanage and adopted by Dick. Damian eventually creates a relationship with his father. Other events that happen is Claire stops being Gotham Girl and becomes Oracle, as she realized being out on the field made her more likely to use her powers instinctively.

The final positions: Harper is Nightwing (31), Duke is the Signal (29), Claire is Oracle (27), Lance is Red Hood (26), Carrie is Huntress (25), Cullen is Flamebird (25), Helena is Catgirl (24), Barbara is Black Bat (23), Dick is Blue Robin (21), Alina is Bluebird (20), Cass is Batgirl (17), Jason is Red Robin (17), Steph is Purple Robin (16), Tim is Yellow Robin (15), and Damian is Green Robin (11).

Legally adopted by Bruce: Harper, Claire, Lance, Carrie, Cullen, Helena and Alina.

#batfam #batfamily #batman #damian wayne #dick grayson #batman and robin #jason todd #bruce wayne #cassandra cain #tim drake #batfamily headcanons #batfamily au #batfam au #batfam memes #batfamily switched au

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mothergayselle · 3 years

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The Bad, Bad Mages -- Cullen/Dorian/Lavellan

rating: T words: 3.5k summary: dorian and lavellan make a bet and cullen thinks she’s literally gonna die lmao but are we surprised

A/N: normalize cullavellan bickering 2021

read on ao3

Dating a mage was new for Cullen. As a former Templar, it was to be expected. An entire youth was spent reading about magic, studying how to intercept spells and nullify their effects. Even in the Tower, rumors about mage-templar relationships seeped into the walls, tantalizing the nearest ear with delicious, naughty details of the affair. Experimental magic in bed gone wrong, boyfriends and girlfriends stolen from the other -- the large replica of Andraste in the sanctuary defiled by unspeakable acts performed by the coupled… gossip like that wasn’t uncommon at all.

But that, as Cullen learned later, wasn’t magic. The faulty experiments in bed… perhaps… had merit. In Lavellan’s defense however, those were on him.

All of it, even the oop-sies, helped contribute to the fact that his relationship with magic changed as he and Lavellan grew close. She was patient and helped him deconstruct all of the learned misconceptions taught by the Chantry... albeit, in an abrupt or Lavellan-like manner.

Initially, Lavellan had chosen to speak to very few people about herself. Burdened by the weight of the proverbial crown and overwhelmed by the sheer amount of humans within the vicinity, Lavellan was often quiet. Only Solas was privy to her thoughts, a fact that had consistently annoyed Cullen, taunting from the back of his mind whenever he’d found a moment to himself.

What was even more distressing were the commonalities between the two elves: their mutually shared heritage -- despite Solas’s protests -- and their magic. Cullen couldn’t have anticipated that Lavellan would ever choose him. However, in the daydreams that had allowed for such a blessing, he’d imagined himself the most diligent student, an endlessly submissive disciple to the arcane arts rooted in the most basic parts of her identity.

She would show him everything she desired, and he’d be so pleased to be wrong and corrected, and how glorious it would feel to finally release his learned hatred for what was so obviously a beautiful and fantastical way of life --

“Well, go on then, you coward!”

Cullen paused the mental frivolities and looked up from his station.

The warm, spring day was mild, a promise of life in the coming months. It wasn’t often that he worked outside, at the desk originally set up for him upon their arrival at Skyhold. It had little privacy, too much noise, and too many dauldings to ignore. The sun felt nice though, and was compelling to even the hardiest Ferelden after the cold months. When the weather agreed, it was an occasional indulgence.

The majority of his days were spent pouring over paperwork and reports from the Inquisition’s military, so he was surprised to hear Dorian nearby. The mage rarely ventured outside the library and when he did, it was usually for something nefarious. Which meant more paperwork for Cullen. The likelihood of this increased when Cullen realized Dorian sounded happy.

One of Sera’s pranks, perhaps. A bucket of ale thrown on an unsuspecting fool, a flock of chickens released at an inopportune moment. The possibilities were endless really, but as long as it didn’t concern him, Cullen wasn’t too perturbed. This was another thing to ignore. Nothing to report or intervene with. Nothing that would result in serious injury, and minor report accidents could always be done away with. Sigh. Mages. No. Not mages. People.

Dorian’s face glowed copper in the weak sunlight, and was inclined to the top of the front gate and its adjacent battlements. A feeling of unease tingled down Cullen’s spine as he followed Dorian’s gaze from where he sat at his desk. So, a serious injury report after all.

A lone figure poised on top of the tall entrance, and although collapses of the psyche weren’t exactly uncommon at Skyhold, it always chilled Cullen to behold the various ways a person could destroy themselves. He’d talked many a soldier down from such a precipice, and so his mind instantly launched itself into those memories, attempting to retrieve the helpful things he could say to this person who was so clearly experiencing a break in their psyche -- although, why in the world would Dorian ever encourage something as horrific as that?

Because Cullen was a ruddy, stupid idiot. That’s why.

It was her hair. It was always, indubitably, the first thing he noticed about her. The inhuman, eternally stunning, silver hue of her hair that was somehow white and not white at the same time.

Normally, Cullen’s finely-tuned, battle instincts would’ve had him on his feet within the second -- weapon drawn, muscles taut with the routine of one-thousand encounters. This was a different kind of war however, and Cullen felt his body lock down with terror. He was, for the first time in his life, frozen at the sight of his soulmate teeter-tottering atop of an eighty-foot wall as if it was nothing more than the height of the ladder in his room.

He was also extensively, at length, confused.

“Shut up, Dorian!” Lavellan yelled back.

Did she not see Cullen right there -- as he had been the whole afternoon, working -- watching her now?

“I want to wait for the wind to stop, first.”

He didn’t need to see in order to know how hard he was clenching the edges of his desk. He could feel the meager wood loosen beneath his palms. He didn’t know where his voice was. Had he been born with one? Cullen couldn’t recall. He could only observe without understanding and shift his gaze from one mage to the other as they bantered.

Dorian preened his robes as if they were the most important things in the world. “If you want to call it quits, just say so, dear. There’s no shame in backing out of a bet.” He paused. “Well, that’s not exactly true. There’s permanent, soul-crushing shame, of course. The personal kind. But one should then think of how fast the legends of your great, colossal cowardice will spread across Thedas, weakening the Inquisition’s influence, undermining its authority in every part of the wor--”

Dorian’s ceaseless monologue ended the moment Lavellan dashed forward, completing one, full stride before leaping into the air.

Cullen felt himself physically choke on the air in his lungs as it rushed forth, spewing out of his body. Without consciously moving, he was on his feet at once, bracing the bulk of his weight against his desk as Lavellan swan-dived into the lethal space separating her body from the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, Cullen saw Dorian’s cheeks lift, as if he were pleased with the decision. Satisfied, somehow.

Lavellan seemed to fall for an eternity. Her hair, loose, was a silver flame trailing after a comet. No scream. Nothing to suggest either terror or exhilarance. The soldiers he’d been too late to save -- some of them had screamed on the way down. If given the chance, Cullen would’ve bet on their regret at the halfway mark.

In the other, more various scenario, there’d been some sort of marker to reveal the purpose of the exercise. A hollowed out wagon filled with hay to catch new assassins-in-training should they lose balance, or something along the likes. He didn't know the details of this or if it was safe -- all he had was the visual of the Inquisitor bound by a free-fall and rapidly advancing towards a dismount she wouldn’t survive.

Suddenly all of the purpose in his life seemed to flee, leaving nothing behind but an emptiness that felt every bit as terminal as the inevitable impact of Lavellan’s body dashing to pieces.

No.

He bolted out from behind his desk and prepared to catch her himself. Dorian stiffened as he passed -- irrelevant information to file away -- and Cullen flung himself into the sparse throng of bystanders who’d stopped to watch. She was but a slice of color above him, and he frantically searched for a way to soften his arms, cursing the hard, metal bracers he favored. Perhaps the trick was to relax his elbows so that she would sink naturally into them.

Bones would break, of course, but he’d do his best. Solas was talented at healing spells. As uncomfortable as that would be, he knew Solas would help.

Cullen planned to ride out the impact alongside it and defer to the natural laws of gravity. Instead of catching her without movement, he’d bend at the knees, dispelling the force of her fall into his own legs and hopefully away from her body.

For her head and neck, he could widen the space between his arms, making room for the back of her skull to connect so there wasn’t room for whiplash. Of course, if her skull connected with the metal bracers too harshly, that would kill her as well. Would she, in her terror, raise a barrier to protect herself before contact? Would the instinct to survive override whatever instinct pushed her off the gate? Was that the only thing that could save her?

Cullen, hazardously alert, projected his consciousness into every fiber of his body. No battle before had ever been this important. Not Kirkwall, not Corypheus, not even his own torture at Kinloch Hold. He would save Lavellan from herself and whatever moronic horseplay Dorian conned her into, and he stepped forward once more, leveling with her, whole-heartedly determined not to miss…

Lavellan passed over his head with ease, blurring with magic. She hopped in and out of the Fade -- a new ability to her ever-expanding arsenal -- and materialized above the ground beside him. The sound of shoulder blades scraping grass and dirt kicked up behind his back. A safety roll, to displace the momentum. Of course. And then, she was on her feet again. He’d felt the soft, separate vibrations of her boots register in the earth. The sound of her laughter followed.

… how incredibly IMBECILIC he was! Senseless! A fool! A bone-brained buffoon! He was Orlesian, but worse. Could he remember their national hymn? Cullen scrambled to find the words. Orlesian sycophants sang of their stupid, mother country. As a stupid Orlesian, Cullen was also required to sing.

How had he ever completed Templar training? He was dull as rock! The most unintelligent, somehow sentient creature to ever disgrace Thedas!

Death. That was the only honorable thing left. He would fall on his sword that night, and a good riddance to the most ridiculous waste of life the world had ever seen. Did his living will include Lavellan? He made a mental note to leave her out of it. Disown her entirely. Josephine could work out the details, but Cullen would make sure to capitalize every letter: LAVELLAN GETS NOTHING.

“Pay up, you pretentious oaf,” Lavellan spat, doubtlessly at Dorian. “And let this be a lesson that my pigheadedness is stronger than your vanity.”

Cullen was filled with stone. On the one hand, he was a bumbling ass -- his arms were still outstretched, waiting to fulfill a rescue that was never needed in the first place. On the other was the timbre of Lavellan’s voice. Breathless, but compelling. Playful. Adoring. Alive.

But not for long.

Mages. It was the MAGES! It had always been the mages! Evil, hateful minions of the dark. Cohorts of the lowly, manipulators of the real and solid. A tarnish to everything good. Bitter, poisonous vipers, infecting those around them with their wily wickedness. Cullen could see it now. What his life would be without their mischief constantly shredding his nerves like failed cheese! There would be a semblance of peace -- not much, but a morsel. Enough to survive on. Ampleness to purge the sick and twisted idiocy of magic from every corner of his existence.

He didn’t know what his face looked like, or if he still had one, but Cullen willfully lowered his arms. They felt like marble at his sides. A useless discarding of rock. They never would’ve been able to catch Lavellan like this. The simple texture of their skin would’ve killed her, smashed the bones in her body to dust. He was a simpleton for thinking he could have ever been of help.

He might’ve been wrong, but Cullen thought he was sweating. It was just as well. His physical form was clearly disintegrating under the guise that he was even remotely necessary to the world. Slowly, he commanded his feet to turn him around, to face the two mages and their heinous, flagrant disregard for his psychological well-being.

Whatever Dorian had said in response to Lavellan’s barb was lost in the haze of Cullen’s own fury. When Cullen successfully rotated, Dorian’s glimmering eyes flickered from the elf’s onto his. They blazed violently. Glee. Joy at his suffering.

Evil.

Hateful.

A devious, cat-like smirk pulled at the corners of Dorian’s mouth. He looked back to the Inquisitor, squaring his shoulders in what Cullen thought to be a show of smugness.

“Yes, darling I hear you,” he said. A musical inflection seeped into his voice as he spoke. “A bottomless pit of humiliation and everything. Et cetera, et cetera. Now, may I direct your attention to a matter more pressing than my gigantic, unquenchable ego?”

There was minute comfort as Lavelan stiffened. Oh, look! What a familiar posture! Was that anxiety she was feeling? How novel!

Evil.

Cullen watched the color drain out of her. It was a slow process. Lavellan had become tanned during her escapades into the wilderness, darkening even the freckles dug across her cheeks and nose. Without the blush, only the violet in her irises were left, trembling with unease as she pivoted.

Even the vallaslin on her forehead, normally a blood and wine color, paled. It was almost comical how bleached and palid she was, leaving the most elven things about her to glow in defense of her now lifeless visage.

They didn’t say anything at first. On a typical day, just the sight of her was enough to wind Cullen. He would melt with love for her and all of the silly antics, at her impish delight in always getting her way. Her way was usually the best way, at any rate. It was hard to disagree with such an amazing woman who was so caring, so thoughtful about the needs of others.

The blood leaking out of her must have found its way into his body, because he suddenly felt on fire, exploded from the inside out by all of the heat. Was the sun mocking him as well? Had it increased its intensity just to spite him?

The fact that she didn’t apologize right away was obnoxious. He was going to wait for it, for the eloquent, persuasive speech she would certainly give -- she always did when in trouble -- but there was only her silence. The horror in her eyes at being exposed. The fear of a mere scolding etched all over her face.

“You just HAD to, didn’t you!?” Cullen shouted. Had he meant to yell? Probably not. This was good, though. Their first public fight. The Inquisitor and Commander. Nothing inappropriate about that.

Whatever worry about being reproached was visibly replaced with petulance. Such a child sometimes. Lavellan’s brow crumpled, and new blood found its way into her cheekbones as she yelled back at him.

“Yes, actually! I did! Dorian said I wouldn’t clear the jump and you know how I feel about being challenged like that!”

Cullen felt the familiar tug of the scar on his lip that contorted whenever he was angry. “I do know, Ellana. I know that you’re nigh a mabari, but STUPID! Idiotic! Who’s made you this dumb? Should we get you a tutor?”

He ignored the blushed darkening of her vallaslin, which had always fascinated him. Twining, coiling lines of devotion to a patron god. In her culture, to choose a vallaslin was to choose the deity behind it, which Lavellan would soon need because Cullen would throw her off the battlements himself. Let her barrel roll out of that.

Ellana rolled her eyes at the insult. “You Fereldens and your dogs. Always needing to establish dominance, which is exactly my point!”

Cullen grit his teeth together. “Dominance? Why would you ever need to dominate Dorian--”

“--Ooh, now that’s an intriguing idea--”

“--when all he amounts to is a spoiled, rich brat who plays with corpses?!” Dorian earned a glare for interrupting.

Dorian, still glowing in the warm, spring day, tutted at Cullen. “I believe the word you’re referring to is necromancing, good captain.”

Cullen’s eyes narrowed to slits and Dorian grinned, showing Cullen his hands, palms out. Homicide wouldn’t help the situation. Probably. He had to remember to breathe, to inhale through the nose. Recalibrating with a shake of the head, Lavellan’s gaze was still when he returned to it.

He expected her to shout back at him, defend her best friend, but what she did surprised him. Lavellan cocked her head. Chewed on the side of her cheek and then laughed. All of the stress in her vallaslin smoothed out at once.

“Well, you’re not… wrong,” she conceded. Dorian grimaced behind her, as if he’d smelled something rotten and spent festering nearby. Then, the creeping, unconquerable smile she wore when she knows she’s won began slithering onto her awful, sinful, depraved, beautiful mage-face.

“In fairness,” she crooned, “I can now buy you the Orlesian whetstone you’ve wanted for so long.”

FUCKING Orlesians. Cullen didn’t know who was more corruptible than them, save for mages. Stinking, destructive mages.

Cullen did note the proud look on Dorian’s face as Lavellan knowingly hoodwinked him into submission. Which, now that he thought about it, was also public!

“You’re going to kill me,” was all he said. A simple revelation. The rage drained away and marble arms returned to flesh. What did his face look like now? Calm? Resigned to his inevitable, eventual death?

Lavellan cocked her head again, swaying like a teenage girl in love. Overdoing a bit, if you asked him. The final nail in the coffin.

“Well, if I do,” she started, “I could always bring you back.” And then she proceeded to lift her left hand -- the Anchor hand. Its green magic pulsed as if to emphasize the promise. Or, was it a threat?

Dorian stifled a laugh when Cullen’s mouth audibly popped open.

Magic was terrifying. She was terrifying.

He’d meant to bring a hand to his face, to rub away the stiffness in it. When the glove connected though, Cullen heard a loud slap echo across the courtyard. Lavellan flinched. Maybe the gesture had been too violent? He didn’t feel it. He was only aware of the ache in his head -- a timeless throbbing -- as if the pain had always been there. Because of magic, obviously.

Lavellan’s mouth curled with a new smile. “Maybe you should go rest, Cullen. I promise not to jump off anything else today. Sound good?”

He wished she would just shut up because everything she was saying only made it worse. Cullen knew he would have nightmares about this day… as if he didn’t have enough already. Pointy, horrible dreams about her willingly jumping to her death would probably never leave him, and it was all of her fault. And magic’s.

“Yeah. I’m going to go… slip into a coma or something.” But of course, Lavellan could always rip the Fade apart just to find and bring him back -- a horrific addendum.

But, no. Only one thing mattered now. His bed. Technically, it was Lavellan’s bed, as he’d taken to sleeping with her at night. Under normal circumstances he would’ve been too shy to slip into her room during the day. So many people around to gossip. Not that their relationship was a secret, but it was the principle of the thing. A demerit in the gentlemen’s code.

Although, because she’d single-handedly ripped the nerves from his body, he’d never have to worry about anything else ever again! With Lavellan’s bed and a few hours of unbothered rest, he’d be as good and traumatized as any other well-adjusted person in the Inquisition.

Cullen shuffled forward, pausing, because the normal routine called for a kiss on the forehead. Before he lowered himself however, his eyes narrowed of their own accord, squinting like two astrariums which combed through her face, scouring it for an iota of common sense.

Where was it? Smothered, choking behind all of the magic? Struggling to be set free and realized?

What has she done to you? Cullen wondered. What has the bad, villainous, shameful mage put you through?

There was a glower to his face when he returned to it. More of a scowling really, as if she was the first darkspawn to ever curse the planet. Not too far off the mark. Elves could be darkspawn too, right? What were they called? Shrieks?

She looked up at him with ease. Lavellan knew she’d gotten away with it for the most part, so what else was there to do but pity him?

“I’ll meet you tonight,” she said, leaning up to kiss his forehead. The vallaslin stretched with her smile. Blood and wine and wayward, contemptible neglect for his mental well-being. Shimmering, fiendish, magnificent violet drilling into him, carving the soundness out, one blink at a time.

Words, incoherent, bubbled from him. A string of oaths, perhaps. He headed for the castle’s staircase when more words percolated. Loudly. He didn’t turn to personally tell her, nor did he modify the volume of his voice. He merely called into the air, letting all of the Inquisition -- and the Maker -- hear him as he headed to bed.

“You can sleep on the sodding ground for all I care. I’m locking your door.”

Lavellan would unlock it within the span of a single heartbeat, but that wasn’t the point.

The point was that he was tired and emotionally scarred and she could leave her stinking, e v i l magic outside their bedroom entrance where, at least for that night, it could no longer disturb the very fabric of his soul.

If he launched her off the bedroom balcony and into the Frostbacks, would a safety roll still save her?

Something to consider.

#cullavellan #cullen rutherford #lavellan #dai #inquisition #da #dragon age #fanfics #mine #writing #dorian pavus

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silvernugfoot · 4 years

Text

The Contact

DRAGON AGE: INQUISITION Rated: General Audiences Words: 2374

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"We know nothing of Tevinter," Josephine quipped in, her quill pausing mid-stroke as she looked at her colleagues.

"I might know someone who can help with that." Varric entered the dark hall and everyone turned to look at him. "Everyone acting all inspirational jogged my memory, so I sent a message to an old friend."

Jaca's eyebrows shot up. He wasn't talking about who she thought he was, was he?

"He's crossed paths with Corypheus before and may know more about what he's doing. He can help," Varric reassured.

Jaca crossed her arms with a crooked smile on her lips while Grier inhaled to reply.

"I'm always looking for new allies," she said excitedly, knowing that if it was someone Varric knew, they must be reliable. "Introduce me."

Varric exchanged a quick glance with Jaca, and side-eyed Cullen.

"Uhm... Parading about might cause a fuss," Varric added as his eyes shifted around the hall. "It's better for you to meet privately. On the battlements. Trust me," he sighed. "...it's complicated." He left without another word.

Jaca sniggered to herself. "Yeah," she sighed heavily. "I'm not going to miss this."

Grier looked confusedly at her cousin. Jaca gave her a strained smile, but just as she was about to explain, Leliana spoke up.

"If it is who I think it is, Cassandra is going to kill him," she noted and left the hall. Jaca and Cullen nodded in silent agreement.

"Come, cousin," Jaca said, patting Grier on the shoulder. "We shouldn't keep them waiting."

"Please keep me out of this," Cullen added, then left after Leliana.

"Well, we are ready to move onwards with these matters, at your leisure," Josephine concluded. She watched everyone leave the hall before exiting herself.

Jaca and Grier entered the upper courtyard, crossed it and climbed onto the ramparts.

"Who are we meeting? Do you know?" Grier asked Jaca.

"It's possible. But if I'm wrong I don't want to get your hopes up, so I'm not gonna take a guess."

Grier grunted annoyedly, but said no more on the subject. They walked unhurriedly up to the north-west corner of the battlements where Varric already waited. He was leaning against the cold stone, looking a lot like the cat that got the canary.

"Varric," Grier moaned. "Why the secrecy? Just tell me who you've invited already!"

Varric threw his hands up in defeat, but didn't have time to reply before a voice from behind them interrupted.

"Well, I'll be damned!"

Jaca and Grier turned to see who must have followed closely behind them. Garrett Hawke's face lit up when he came down the steps of the ramparts to where they had gathered. "I didn't know you were part of the Inquisition." He made a beeline for Jaca and gave her a giant hug that crushed her every rib.

"Yeah, I'm the one they call Inquisitor," Jaca chuckled awkwardly and patted the tall man on the back. As he let her down, straightened and took a step back, Jaca brushed her hair behind her ear and gestured to Grier. "And this is Grier, the one they call the Herald of Andraste."

Garrett gave her the same wide smile and bowed dramatically. "A pleasure, my lady... I expected the Herald and Inquisitor to be the same person? The rumours I've heard on the way sure sounded like it."

"Maybe they get us confused," Jaca laughed. They may have been cousins, but it wasn't by blood, so the similarities in their looks confused even them.

"Whatever it is, my job is too big for one person to handle alone," Grier explained with a slight blush on her cheeks and eyes trying not to meet Garrett's. "And Jaca excels at the diplomatic aspects of the job."

"Oh, I'm not actually that good," Jaca protested. "I just like doing the paperwork no one else wants to deal with." She glanced pointedly at her cousin, eliciting a chuckle from Garrett.

"Which allows me to go out there and keep the south of Thedas in check," Grier grimaced.

"However things are divided, I also hear a lot of good things about you, which is why I came to help," Garrett said. "Even if Varric hadn't invited me, I might have written him eventually to ask if you might need me. But then I got word about Corypheus, and that..." His face turned grim, losing any sign of the warm aura he usually radiated. "That is my unfinished business. Now I need to be here."

"I'm sure your help will be invaluable, Hawke," Varric said from the sidelines.

"Thanks, but I do worry about leaving Anders alone..."

"Anders?" Jaca gasped without realising. She bit her lip when Garrett turned to look at her.

Varric sighed and scratched his neck as the ramparts fell into a momentary silence.

"Yeah," Garrett confirmed. "We have been traveling together since what happened in Kirkwall."

"Oh." Suddenly Jaca didn't know how to feel about Hawke anymore. The man she had once looked up to as a good guy with an awful sense of humour was harbouring the man who had caused the Chantry explosion.

"Uhm, maybe we should have a drink, and Hawke and I'll tell you two everything about Corypheus," Varric suggested, stepping in to put some distance between Jaca and Garrett.

Jaca swallowed hard and turned away from them. "No, it's okay. You three go. I... I need a moment."

Varric nodded and immediately ushered Grier and Garrett to follow him away from there.

Grier had fallen as silent as her cousin but simply because she wasn't sure how to break the sudden chill that had set over them. Varric however knew how to handle both parties after years of first-hand experience. He began chatting as they descended the ramparts.

"Wait." Garrett stopped. "She never met Anders in Kirkwall, did she?" he said, pointing back over his shoulder. "So why–"

"Take the hint, Hawke," Varric sighed, but explained nonetheless. "She was a victim of the explosion. I can bet you there's some serious trauma left in her from that."

"Not just trauma," Grier added quietly from behind the pair. "Scars. Emotional and physical."

Garrett sighed heavily and looked at her with glistening eyes. "I'm sorry. I never condoned Anders' actions, but I do understand why he did what he did. And I couldn't execute the man I love because– I just couldn't."

Grier nodded. "I understand. And now I've heard both sides of the story, more or less. But you should tell her that too... once she's cooled off."

"Good idea," Varric agreed. "But let's get inside. Jaca will join us when she's ready."

"How bad are they?" Garrett asked Grier. They had settled down around the lone, small table in the Herald's Rest that someone had hauled to the third floor, to keep from curious eyes and ears.

"What?" Grier asked into her tankard, glancing at him over the rim.

"Jaca's scars." Garrett looked down at the tabletop, grasping his own tankard tightly in both hands.

"She's covered in them," Varric affirmed grimly. "You wouldn't know from the way she's dressed, and she carries herself like she's never in pain, but..."

"Yeah, they must hurt a lot," Grier said. "I heard Bull say that it's one of the reasons she doesn't sleep well."

"When you say 'covered in them'..?" Garrett added.

"All of her left side, from shoulder to knee.” Varric confirmed. “She told me what had happened after the explosion. Crushed by debris; unconscious and trapped beneath it for who knows how long; days, if not weeks, in a healer's hands to close the wounds; concussion; thinking we were all dead in the uprising too..."

"Shit," Garrett sighed. "We never knew she was alive either. I'd asked her to take Beast out on his usual walk that day, but in all the following chaos I forgot about it. I only remembered once I got home and wasn't greeted by that slobbering mess of love. I searched all over for him and Jaca, but–"

"It's not your fault," Varric reassured him. “And I know she doesn’t blame you.”

“I don’t.”

The trio turned to the tower door where Jaca stood, looking down at them. She silently joined them at the table, taking a seat by her cousin, but keeping her eyes from any one else’s. She was trying hard not to get over-emotional. When she didn’t speak for a long while, Grier continued their discussion.

“So, what do you know about Corypheus?” she asked, and Garrett proceeded to tell them every single detail about what had happened in the Vimmark mountains, where he had tracked down the ancient Darkspawn and his dwarven followers, including some of the Grey Wardens.

“You know, the Seeker had been looking for you since all of that happened, right?” Varric said once Hawke seemed to have told the whole story and lifted his tankard to his lips. “I don’t know if she admires you or hates you. Maybe both. At times I could swear she had feelings for you… though she’s never met you.”

Garrett looked at his friend with a single raised brow.

“I know one thing for sure,” Grier added, also looking at the dwarf. “She is definitely going to kill you once she hears Hawke’s at Skyhold. Thanks to you.”

Varric sighed heavily. “Anyway I could convince you to supply me with some protection?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there. I’ll make sure she doesn’t actually kill you.”

“I’m sure you can manage alone?” Jaca asked. All the while during Hawke’s recollection of the past events, she’d been silent. Now, she looked at Grier and Varric inquisitively.

“Of course,” Grier assured her. “Cassandra will be mad. But I’ll be there to mediate.”

“Okay.” Jaca got up and made to leave the group when Garrett stood from his seat.

“Jaca,” he said. He wasn’t sure if he should stop her, but he needed to talk things out with her. She had been a friend once. He would have liked it if they could be once more. “Do you mind if I..?” He gestured vaguely and tilted his head. Jaca shrugged in response. The two of them left the tavern and headed back up onto the ramparts where the wind had picked up and grey clouds released a light snowfall upon the fortress.

Jaca shuddered in the cold, but welcomed it. The air was fresh, which helped clear her muddled mind.

“How are you?” Hawke asked, walking slowly beside her.

Jaca kept her eyes on the floor in front of her as she replied: “I’m alright.”

“I’m sorry. For everything that happened.”

“Me too.” Jaca stopped. Tears stung her eyes, and she hurried to wipe them away. “About Beast.”

Garrett’s beloved mabari had died in the destruction of Kirkwall, having been at Jaca’s left side the moment it had happened.

“It’s not your fault,” Hawke assured. He wanted to hug her, but held back, still unsure of where they stood. “No one is to blame for that.” He paused briefly. “You said you don’t blame me, but I know you must blame Anders, judging by the way you reacted before.”

Jaca simply nodded.

“I blamed him too. Partly, at least.” Garrett sighed heavily. “I’m not sure who he is anymore,” he explained. “But it’s not entirely Anders’ fault. What happened to the Chantry is. But not the rebellion. Not the mass murder of the mages in Kirkwall that spread throughout Thedas. Please don’t blame him for that.”

Jaca pondered Hawke’s words for a long while. “Okay,” she said eventually. He was right. The rebellion couldn’t be put on a single man, no matter how much she disliked him. Grand-Enchanter Fiona had had her hands in the matter, deciding to push for the freedom of the mages when the majority of them had voted against it. And if rumors were to be believed, even that instance hadn’t been the first stone to start rolling down that hill.

“I wish none of it had ever happened,” Jaca sighed. She’d stopped crying, but still felt an immense sadness at the thought of all the lives that had been lost. She’d never been against the Circle. In fact, it had been home to her when her adoptive family had disinherited her once her magic had manifested. It had been a safe haven to many. She didn’t argue against the fact that it needed reform. The Templar Order had definitely gone out of hand, but the Circles did their job: they protected mages from the outside world and themselves.

“Why are you still with him if you think he’s changed?” she wondered, finally looking up to meet Garrett’s eyes. “If you don’t think Anders is who he used to be, and you don’t like that - judging by your tone just now - then why..? Why stay with him? You said you didn’t condone his actions.”

“I didn’t. I still don’t,” Hawke confirmed. “Innocent people died in Kirkwall because of him. So many more were hurt.” He glanced down Jaca’s covered body, but didn’t mention her specifically. “The Chantry, including Mother Elthina, couldn’t have done anything to stop Meredith. I couldn’t do anything. Orsino couldn’t. Meredith was too far gone to listen to reason. The only way Kirkwall’s Circle could have been saved from her would have been to have contacted the Divine. But once she finally interceded, it was already too late for our city.”

Jaca nodded in agreement. This was a difficult subject. It made her mind spin to think of all the what ifs. There was nothing that could be done about that now.

“So?” she asked. “What about Anders?” Hawke still hadn’t replied to her questions about him.

“It’s complicated,” Garrett sighed and ran a hand over his beaded face.

“No more than the subject of the mage rebellion,” Jaca argued, her face stiff and her voice turned cold as ice.

Now Hawke was the one to nod.

You think you can save him, Jaca thought to herself as she watched Hawke choose his words with care. Not everyone can be saved. “Not everyone wants to be saved,” she muttered.

As if hit by something, Hawke jerked at her words. She was right. “Maybe not,” he admitted.

#my works #Jaca #Grier #Garrett #Inquisitor #Varric

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elusive---ivory · 4 years

Text

The Woman In Velvet pt. 5

Aaaaa, this is a lot one. This one is just all fluffy and fun.

WARNINGS: None, just fluff

PAIRING: Arthur x Oc.

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Three little girls were in the dining room, setting the table for their dinner.

"Ha, Seriously Sandy? You still don't have a date for Friday?" The girl with dimples giggled.

The girl with black hair shook her head and shrugged. "Looks like I won't be joining you for your triple date."

The girl without dimples gave her a shocked look and gasped. "Sandy! Don't be such a debbie downer. I'll set you up with someone."

The girl with dimples scoffed. "Really? Because, the last time you played matchmaker, you set up Dollar Dave with his sister."

The two sisters bickered until a large man appeared in the entrance of the dining room.

"Girls." The man spoke. His voice was raspy. He had a thick, black, cigar hanging out of his mouth. He looked over at the girl with black hair. The man took a seat at the newly set table.

"Deliah, Destiny, if your cousin doesn't wish to attend your ridiculous triple date, then don't force her."

The girl with black hair turned away from the man and muttered a small "Thank you" under her breath. She sat next to him, but scooted away a few inches. The two other girls rolled their eyes and sat down with them.

"Besides, I think Sandy and I would have lots of fun without the two of you, ain't that right, doll?" His eyes were glued on the girl next to him. She gulped hard. She stared hard at her cousins.

They both stared back with menacing looks. Neither of them bothered to help.

Sandy woke up to a dreaded alarm clock going off.

'Funny,' she thought. Her alarm didn't work at all. She had planned on getting a new one, but it was her same alarm clock. As she opened her eyes a little bit, she took in her surroundings. She was in her bed, and in her usual nightie. What was different about today?

"Oh fuck." She said, aloud. Sandy looked around. She threw the bed sheets off her body and quickly ran into her living room.

Arthur was standing there in the kitchen, shirtless. Sandy approached him carefully, still not fully understanding what was going on. The early morning sun was slowly creeping outside the window. The small apartment was dark, beside the light of in the kitchen.

"Hey." Sandy said, quietly.

Arthur looked around him, slightly startled. He didn't expect her to be up yet.

Arthur smiled at her gently. "Good morning."

Sandy looked down, bashfully. "Yeah, what are you doing up?" She stepped into the florescent lighting of the kitchen.

Arthur shrugged. "I couldn't sleep."

"Really? Did you fix my clock?" Sandy smiled, giggling slightly.

"Yeah, you talk in your sleep. You kept mumbling about the alarm, so I fixed it." Arthur answered, sheepishly.

"Also, we were on the couch when," Sandy cleared her throat, "we, ya know."

Arthur smiled. "You also sleepwalk."

Sandy giggled and gently punched his shoulder. "You got all of that from just spending the night with me. Color me impressed, Detective."

Arthur flinched at her sudden roughhousing, but chuckled at her joke. "Yeah, you know. I do stand up comedy."

Sandy raised her eyebrow. "Really?" She said, brewing her coffee.

Arthur nodded, shyly. "Yeah. Tomorrow night will be my very first gig."

"Huh." Sandy stirred her coffee. "Save me a seat in the front." She winked, booping his nose.

Sandy walked out of the kitchen. Arthur's eyes followed her dreamily.

Sandy finally got into her routine according, putting on a seemingly different work uniform. Instead of matted and ripped purple violet blouse, it was a red and black velvet with a black satin skirt. It wasn't at all comfortable, but she had to make do. She put on black heels matching the overall theme of the outfit. When she was done, she found her cheap frame glasses, and gently placed them on her face.

Sandy walked back into the kitchen to give Arthur a small peck on his cheek.

"I'm heading out. Here's the spare key, just incase you want to lounge around here for today." Sandy placed a small key in his hand. "Try not to burn down the apartment." She giggled stepping out of the door.

Arthur's eyes never left her figure once. She looked so elegant when she walked. His hand gently touched the cheek where she kissed him. It left him breathless.

The gloomy office building seemed to be even more dull and dreary than usual. Sandy sighed sitting there in her small cubicle.

"Hey, did you hear about those subway killings?"

Sandy overheard two coworkers talking. Often times when she eavesdropped she would mostly hear some stupid gossip like she fucked or he fucked her etc, but this seemed serious.

"Yeah, I did. I hear they were employees of ours."

This caught Sandy's attention. 'Employees?' She thought. She continued listening intently.

"Wayne Enterprises?"

"Yeah, I hear one of them was Dennis Cullen."

Sandy's eyes widened. 'Dennis is dead?' Half of her celebrated the death of that bastard, but it just seemed wrong. She snapped out of her thoughts when a coworker knocked on Sandy's cubicle.

"Sandy, the boss wants you."

She took a long sigh. She got out of her chair and walked down to the boss's office.

"Needed me, Mr. Don?" Sandy asked, being as polite as she could be.

A large man looked up at Sandy from his paperwork.

"Yes, please take a seat." Mr. Don gestured to the two chairs in front of him.

"Why were you not here yesterday?" His voice sounded frustrated.

"Well, sir, I was really sick, yesterday and-"

Mr. Don cut her off with a glare.

"Look, I'm too bent on excuses. Now, as you may know, Dennis, your associate, has recently passed away. It's a shame, I know, but he had lots of clients. Since he's gone, you have to take after his clients." Mr. Don looked back down at his paperwork.

Sandy stood there dumbfounded.

"Wait. Shouldn't the person getting his position get his clients?" Sandy crossed her arms.

Mr. Don looked at her begrudgingly. "Well, yes, but there's still so many clients he had. Most are pretty upset by the current circumstances. Could you please do these few clients?" Mr. Don held a sudden desperation in his gruff voice.

Sandy gave a defeated sigh. "Alright. I'll see what I can do about the clients."

Dennis would always brag about his clients and how high maintenance they were. How he was so lucky to always have meetings with the one and only, Thomas Wayne. His position was completely up for grabs.

Sandy didn't want Dennis's stupid position. Not like she could ever get get it. She was a woman working 45 hours a week, yet being paid so little.

'Why the fuck did people get so angry over some dudes getting killed on a subway?' Sandy growled in her thoughts, as she walked out of the office building.

All day clients were yelling and screaming about how they furious they were for not getting their fucking products. It gave her such a headache.

Her heels tapped the wet pavement. The lights of bars and restaurants colored the numerous puddles on the ground.

As she was walking down the street, she felt a pair of eyes on her.

Crack.

She turned around. Her eyes monitored the alleyway next to her. She strutted ahead, continuing her path, while being on high alert.

Crack.

She heard it again. She started walking fast. As she did so, Sandy glanced behind her. It was a silhouette of a man walking fast. Her heart stopped. She kept walking faster, until she was gently jogging in her heels. She was almost to the subway.

The man had finally caught up to her, and gently tapped her shoulder.

Sandy froze. She turned around to face her stalker.

Arthur smiled gently, taking off the yellow hood of his hoodie.

She sighed in relief. "Oh, thank god. Arthur, it's just you." Sandy smiled at her supposed stalker. "I thought you were the subway killer."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah, so I've heard."

"How could you not? It's everywhere. Who cares about some assholes dying?" Sandy tapped around her coat. "Damn it." She hissed under her breath.

"Hey, Art." Sandy said, getting his attention.

Arthur tilted his head. "Hmm?"

"Do you think I can bum a cig?" Sandy asked, desperately.

"Uh, yeah sure." Arthur handed her a fresh cigarette.

Sandy lit the cancer stick, inhaling the dangerous smoke, then exhaling it out of her lungs.

"Thanks, Artie." Sandy smiled. "Say, you never told me why you were out here following me anyway?" She said, with the cigarette hanging out of her mouth.

Arthur looked down, almost like a guilty puppy.

"I, uh, was worried." Arthur said, twiddling his thumbs.

Sandy smirked. "Worried? Aww, Artie. You don't need to worry about me, sweets." Sandy pressed a small kiss on his cheek.

Arthur started fidgeting with the bottom of his hoodie. "Uhh, well, of course, I do, Sandy. It's dangerous."

Sandy giggled. "Ok, I guess you can walk me back to my apartment." She put out the cigarette, and linked arms with Arthur.

The subway was deserted. The florescent lights flickered on and off as the loud railings of the subway train moved by.

Sandy was seated by Arthur's side, leaning on him a bit. For Sandy, Arthur was like a breath of fresh air. He was so comforting and sweet. He listened to Sandy's problems, no matter how stupid they were to her.

"So, you're a party clown?" Sandy said, holding Arthur's hand in hers.

"Yeah, at least I was. I'm focusing more on my comedy career. I've got lots of jokes." Arthur put emphasis on the word lots.

"You said that this morning. Let me hear some of your jokes." Sandy said, interested.

Arthur eyes lit up.

"Oh? Let me get my joke book." Arthur reached into his back pocket and pulled out a worn down journal. Arthur gently handed the journal to Sandy.

Sandy flipped through a few pages of the journal.

"Well, what do you think?" Arthur asked, impatient. He looked pretty anxious.

Sandy laughed a little.

"How come poor people are so confused? They don't make sense." Sandy read, still laughing. "That's a stupid joke."

Arthur frowned. "Oh."

Sandy immediately corrected herself. "No, no, no. It's great, Arthur. You're gonna be great. I know it."

Arthur's frowned disappeared, and turned into a smirk. "You think so?"

"I know so, babe." Sandy kissed his nose.

"Could I look through your book more?"

Arthur nodded.

Sandy looked through each page, but there's one page that caught her eye. It had a polaroid picture of her with twisted writings all over the page.

Mrz. Sandy Fleck

Mrz. Sandera Fleck

MY dEaR, Sandy

Sandy's eyes read the page over and over again. Arthur began to look anxious.

The subway came to a stop.

"This is our stop." Sandy handed his journal back to him. "And, by the way, it's spelled S-A-N-D-R-A." She said, stepping out of the subway doors. Arthur followed behind her.

#joker x reader #joker arthur fleck #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x oc #arthur fleck #joker movie #joker 2019 #the woman in velvet

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bigfan-fanfic · 5 years

Text

Inquisitor as a Companion - Spoiler Edition: Tash

From @dextronoms‘ template. For Ataashi Adaar.

The Fade

How they react: “Hmmm. This is not what I was hopin’ for. I’d like to go home now.”

Their Tombstone: Solitude

What the Fears look like: Dead versions of the Inner Circle and Tash’s family, either growing red lyrium or wearing Saarebas masks and chains.

What the Nightmare says: “Little Dragon, are you enjoying yourself? I do hope so. After all, soon all of your friends will leave you. Your own mother couldn’t bear to be around you - how do you think they all feel? You will be alone and friendless once more, and there is nothing you can do to stop it.”

Their reflection about the Fade: “Well... I didn’t like it very much, but I suppose that was because of the location. I’m sure other parts are really nice!”

Hawke or Warden: Hawke - Tash doesn’t want to see Varric sad, but he’ll also feel bad if the Warden is left behind. Tash Greatly Approves of saving Hawke, and Slightly Approves of saving the Warden

The Wardens

Their feelings: (how they feel about fighting Wardens, about their use of the ritual, etc.)

Exile or Allies?: Allies. Tash believes in second chances, and he thinks that if the Inquisition gives them that chance, they’ll be loyal.

The Ball

How they feel: If Vivienne was brought along, he will be announced as “Ataashi Adaar, Ward of the Inquisitor and Protege to Madame Vivienne of the Montsimmard Circle of Magi” and he will be pleased that the court is so interested in him. If not, he will be discussing art with Yvette Montilyet and just be so enthusiastic about the party. “I know we’re here on a mission - but I’m having such a great time!”

Where they linger: At the same table as Vivienne, if she was brought along. If not, he will be speaking animatedly to Josephine’s sister Yvette.

Are they good at the Game?: Surprisingly enough for such an innocent, yes. Tash is inadvertently adept at picking up on moods and slips of the tongue. He’s also very good at complimenting people, because most of the time he genuinely means it. The nobles of Orlais are still trying to figure out which version of the Game this child is playing. And meanwhile, Tash is having a great time and gossiping with the upper echelons of Orlesian politics, bringing new allies to the Inquisition without even knowing it.

What people say about them: (if Vivienne is brought along): “Madame de Fer certainly made an odd choice, taking the ox-boy as her protege.” “Shh. Don’t you know the boy is the Inquisitor’s ward? I’d say Madame de Fer is as shrewd as ever.”

(If the Iron Bull was brought along): Do you think the big one is the little ox’s father?”

(otherwise): “Oh, the Inquisitor’s ward is so charming! Did you see him dancing with Cyril de Montfort?” “No, last I saw it was the Dowager! Well, he certainly has a full dance card.”

Gaspard, Briala, or Celene?: Tash is young, but not unaware. He knows that if one is supported, the others will likely be killed. He supports the public truce ending, believing - perhaps naively - that the three of them will put aside their differences for the good of Orlais.

Temple of Mythal

Rituals or Hole?: Rituals. “Trust me, Inquisitor. Bad things happen when you don’t do the creepy entrance dance.”

Agree with the Elves’ bargain?: Yes. Tash doesn’t want to fight the elves. He’s been learning some Elvhen in the Fade and desperately wants to ask them questions.

Morrigan or Inquisitor for the Well?: If Kieran does not exist, Tash prefers Morrigan, but the opposite is true if Kieran is present - Tash doesn’t want Morrigan to risk leaving Kieran parentless.

Comments on Canon Romance

Cassandra: “Cassandra made me nervous at first. But then I saw how she looks at you when she thinks you’re not looking. I don’t think I’m scared of her anymore.”

Dorian: “Dorian looks so happy now. I think you two are lovely together.”

Sera: “So... you’re with Sera? You know, she once made me cry when she stuffed a bag of lizards on my head - but I’m sure she’s different with you. Also, can you explain this drawing she showed me? She said it’s of you two, but I don’t see it...”

Iron Bull: “Would you mind telling your... Kadan... to stop making those weird comments? I don’t know what they mean, and nobody wants to tell me!”

(If the Chargers were sacrificed): “I don’t think it’s right. He’s a Qunari. Qunari don’t do love. I’d watch out if I were you.”

Josephine: ‘I don’t know what you did, but Josephine got all starry-eyed five times while we were doing paperwork a few days ago. Is she okay?”

Cullen: “I saw Cullen smiling at a report the other day... I’ll try to help him out more so that the two of you can spend more time together!”

Blackwall: “Ser Blackwall’s so strong and brave and handsome... It must be so nice to have him hug you.”

(After Revelations, if the Inquisitor is still with Blackwall): “Nobody will tell me exactly what Ser Blackwall did. But if you’re in love with him still, he can’t be evil! Being with you, it makes him better. That’s what I think.”

Solas: (imitating Solas) “’I’d walk with you across the Fade, to steal a kiss and run away, until we both passed out due to exhaustion. The spirits tell us ancient tales; we’d listen ‘til the sun arose, and wake everyone up with our discussions.’ (in normal voice) Exactly how could Solas take you on a date and have fun at all?”

#inquisitor as a companion #my inquisitors #ocs #dragon age #tash adaar

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panlight · 5 years

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What do you think each Cullen dealt with during their “end-of-natural-life crisis” that you headcanon? Carlisle would have had his before he even met the family, for example. How did he deal with the existential crisis without a family? What about Jasper? What about the others who haven’t had them yet (except maybe Alice)? How will Bella deal with hers?

Carlisle’s rather neatly fits with the timing of him leaving the Volturi (c. 1720, he’d be about 80 which given the life expectancy of his time probably felt sufficiently like ‘if I were human I would be dead by now’), and Jasper’s fits with leaving Maria (they timeline here isn’t that clear, but he says he was with Maria as long Edward’s been with Carlisle, so that’s 90ish years).

For Carlisle I think it was a matter of no longer being comfortable with the moral compromises he was making. He was associating with vampires that he found to be more educated, more polite, than others he had encountered up until that point. The Volturi valued human art and science, the kept libraries, they cloaked themselves with human ideas like justice and government. But they still killed people. He wasn’t participating in that, but his attempts at persuasion to get them to switch to vegetarianism weren’t working, and as he took stock of his life so far at 80, I think he was like “I can’t do this anymore" because he felt like by being present he was being complicit. He decided it wasn’t enough to find other patrons of the arts and sciences, he needed to find vampiric companions that also valued human life. So he left, choosing the unknown over the comforts of companionship (and a sweet castle and awesome library). And, apparently, he never looked back: the guide says that Aro was planning to check in on him in “500 years or so” so they weren’t like, regular pen pals, although they parted on “good terms.” Jasper is a little less cut-and-dry, because it was the outside actions of Peter, and not just internal issues, that led to the resolution of his crisis (and then, later, Alice teaching him about vegetarianism). But he was obviously already in a mental place where he was questioning the worldview Maria had taught him–he let Peter and Charlotte escape, and then went with Peter when Peter came back for him. Had that happened 20, 30, years sooner, he might not have been wrestling with his place in the world to such a degree and might have not let them go, or not gone with them when they came back for him.

Alice might not be susceptible to this? Since she doesn’t remember human, she doesn’t remember mortality. Being ageless and immortal is ‘normal’ to her so she might not have any concept of “I would have been dead by now.”

Esme’s probably would have happened c. 1995. As to what it looked like, maybe she got frustrated that she never got to teach and went back to school for that and tried it and then realized it wasn’t quite what she remembered? I mean those few months she taught in 1920/21 compared to the American school system in 1995 were … probably a lot different, and maybe she realized that her childhood dream wasn’t actually what she wanted and re-committed to the art and architecture thing? Plenty of people think they know what they want to do with their lives as kids, then grow up and try it and realize it’s actually not a good fit for them. People ask “why doesn’t Esme teach?” and maybe the answer is she tried it and found out that she didn’t actually like it as much as she thought she would? Or maybe Isle Esme hasn’t been the family’s property as long as fandom assumes, and whatever she was going through in 1995 ended up with Carlisle giving her an island.

Emmett and Rosalie were born born in 1915 so they’ll hit theirs at the same time. It’s probably going to be them adopting a child in some fashion or another. A human one is almost out of the question–too much paperwork, too risky in terms of secrecy. But maybe there’s a epidemic of hybrids after the Nessie news gets out in the world and some vampires decide they don’t want to be parents after all, or they find 15-year-old vampires out there who need a home. Or they try to find a surrogate and have a hybrid of their own. It could either turn out well and they get to have a sweet little family or it could go . .. badly, in a number of ways. Maybe Emmett also finally decides to finish a degree?

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ladylike-foxes · 5 years

Note

DWC! “I’ve always felt numb and foggy between autumn and spring.”

Both you and @hell5bell5 sent the same prompt, so my thanks and love to both of you! As well as @galadrieljones, as her recent commission inspired this ficlet for @dadrunkwriting ❤️❤️

“And from there, we’ll move in on…Inquisitor?” Cullen stopped moving his markers around the map, his shift in attention causing the other Advisors to perk up, “Inquisitor, are you well?”

“Huh? Yea–Ahem,” Halesta straightened up, folding her hands neatly on the table before her, “I mean, yes. I’m sorry, Commander. Do go on.”

He hesitated, sharing a glance with Josephine and Leliana. That same, glazed look had already returned to the Inquisitor’s rather blank stare. They had each noticed it over the past few weeks, her unusual behavior: sleeping in, eating less, always distracted. The Advisors weren’t alone in their concern. Her companions had asked after her nearly every day for the past week. Dorian especially was worried sick, going so far as to pester Solas for answers as to the Inquisitor’s sudden relapse. She had finally been recovering from the aftermath of the break-up, but this recent backslide since their return from the Frostback Basin had everyone scratching their heads.

“Inquisitor, why don’t you get some rest,” Josie fluttered over, a hand to her forehead.

“Really, I’m fine,” Even her objection was half-hearted, “It’s just a little touch of the blues.”

“Well then, go do something fun to cheer yourself up,” Leliana came around to lean against the table beside her, “Go see what Sera is getting into.”

“Uh, maybe not Sera,” Cullen offered, catching Josephine’s flinch, “But perhaps a game of Wicked Grace with Varric?”

“Yes, that sounds lovely! I’m sure Master Tethras would be happy to oblige,” They were shooing her from the War Room with gentle insistence.

“Okay, okay, maybe I will,” Finally submitting, they allowed her to walk down to the Hall on her own.

She decided not to disturb Varric, buried deep enough in paperwork that he didn’t notice her pass by. She wasn’t up to Dorian’s mothering at the moment, so she made her way down the stairs into the weak light of the afternoon sun. Cassandra was nowhere to be seen, no doubt curled up with a book, avoiding the biting wind that seemed to slip through Skyhold’s strangely temperate atmosphere. Without any better ideas, Halesta headed for the Herald’s Rest. Bull and the Chargers were all gathered in the far back corner, loud laughter and shouting conversation: Halesta opted for the table tucked out of the way spot, to the left of the bar. Cabot brought her a mulled cider and a glib comment before leaving her to stare at the wall.

“Inquisitor.”

A deep, rumbling voice both familiar and strange, she looked up into sharp aquamarine eyes. A smile tugged insistently at the corner of her lips, though she didn’t remember feeling like smiling.

“Inquisitor,” She moved to stand, to return the bow, but his hand, heavy as stone, kept her in her seat.

“Might I join you?” Ameridan, in his fashion, sat without allowing her answer, already gesturing to Cabot for a drink.

“It doesn’t seem I have a say in the matter,” It came out with more of an edge than she intended, and his piercing eyes met hers again.

He seemed solid, unyielding: real in a way that nothing else did, lately. He looked her over, very slow and deliberate, such a long look nearly bringing a flush to her skin. She thought back to the moment the Anchor had sliced him free of time. Even Solas had looked surprised. She hadn’t spoken to him much, he’d waited a week or so before following them back to Skyhold. But she thought about him a lot, him and Telana. The weight of his sacrifice, her loss of him, the endless waiting.

“I hear you haven’t been yourself of late, Inquisitor,” His voice was so heavy, gently demanding.

“It’s been a rough few years,” A bitter, shallow smile was all she could offer, “And winter doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Have you noticed how oddly mild the weather is here?” As if he were retroactively reading her thoughts.

“It’s one of Skyhold’s many mysteries,” He barked a laugh in response, giving her a start.

“Mm. What is it about winter that is so difficult for you?” He thanked Cabot and returned his intense focus to her.

“You know. The shorter days, the haze that sets in,” She took a sip of her cider, staring intently at the bottom of her cup.

“The haze?”

“I don’t know. I’ve always felt foggy and numb between autumn and spring,” Shrugging at her drink, “And this year, with Sol—with everything, it’s worse, it's…. Have you ever been so numb it hurts?”

“Yes. I think I have.”

Ameridan watched her steadily, holding her gaze when she looked back up. She felt naked, but not without clothes: raw, like an exposed nerve. One that, in some way, he managed to understand. After a long moment, he nodded, smiling slowly.

“You’re stronger than I was at your age.”

“I’ve been through more than most people my age. Even outside the Inquisiton,” The admission came too easily, and she hesitated, wondering at herself.

“I’d like to hear about that sometime, if you wouldn’t mind sharing,” Sitting back in his seat, his shifting weight made the chair groan, “But— and forgive me if I cross the line, Inquisitor— I think, sometimes, you put yourself through more than you need to. You relive the worst of it, over and over, as a sort of self-punishment.”

“Hm. You’re probably right,” She thought for a moment, then wrinkled her nose, “Not all of it, though.”

“Ahh, your Fade Expert,” Ameridan arched a brow and crossed his arms, “Yes, I’ve heard word of that too.”

“Oh, fantastic!” She crossed her arms on the table, hiding her face in them.

“Fond of older men, hm?” She buried her burning face deeper as he chuckled, “Shall I punch him for you?”

“I can defend my own honor, thanks,” She glared up at his satisfied smile.

“I’m sure you can. I’ve heard some fearsome things. And I believe he’s a pacifist, anyway, is he not? A physical confrontation would only make him more contrary.”

“Not if I just killed him and saved us all the trouble,” Dropping her face back into her arms, “Ughhh.”

“How are you feeling? A little less hazy?” Propping up her chin, she looked him in the eye again.

“Yeah, for now, at least,” His smile fell slowly as she finished her sentence.“Though, for someone so far out of time, you seem more present than anything else here.”

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topshelfcityelf · 5 years

Text

Cullen doesn’t look back. He makes a beeline for his office, thoughts a swirling mess. Would it be too much to hope that she would simply let the matter drop? Cullen sighs, sinking down into his chair. He lifts the first piece of parchment from the stack of paperwork before him and has time to read a single sentence before there is a thud on his door.

It is his only warning before Charlie bursts into the room, eyes alight, mouth turned down in a grimace. She pushes the door closed behind her - harder than necessary - and Cullen’s heart rate increases as he watches her bar the door behind her. That cannot be good. He needs to put a stop to this before--

“Inquisitor, really, there are matters I must attend to.”

“Oh it’s inquisitor now, is it?” Charlie shoots back, striding across the room and leaning towards Cullen over the desk. She is all storm clouds and steel, edges and hard angles. Cullen finds himself shrinking away from her despite himself, and then attempts to compensate when he realizes what he’s doing. His pride won’t allow anything else.

He stands, leaning forward across the desk, matching her pose, matching her scowl.

To his surprise, Charlie backs off with a sigh. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

“Do what, exactly?”

“Hide behind your title any time things get the least bit personal.”

“We don’t have the luxury of personal time. Corypheus--” Cullen knows he’s grasping at straws, but he’s also desperate to end the conversation. He’s not surprised to be interrupted.

“Oh horseshit, Cullen.” Charlie snaps, exasperated. “Fine. You want to be like that? I, the Inquisitor am giving my Commander an order to take a fucking break so Cullen can talk to Charlie. Corypheus is not going to come bursting through Skyhold’s walls in the next hour or two. We have time for this.”

Her words make him want to fight harder, but there was an order in there. That still means something. He nods. “As you wish Inquisitor -- Charlie.”

He can feel her eyes on him. His back is to her. He busies himself with lighting a fire to chase away the chill. When he turns, Charlie is perched on the corner of his desk, once again studying him with a pensive look.

“Cullen,” she begins slowly, and already Cullen feels the knot in his stomach tighten. “If I ask you something, can I expect you to tell me the truth?”

“I…” and Cullen considers it, because he does not want to lie to her But-- “I don’t want to talk about this.”

Charlie stands from the desk, crosses to him. “Tough shit,” she says.

Cullen gapes at her. “You--”

“No.” She is close - too close for this conversation. “You want to be in a relationship with me, Cullen? That means talking. To. Me. “ She punctuates the last few words with a few gentle prods at his chest. “Even about the bad stuff - it’s important.”

“I don’t know if I can.” Cullen mutters, thinking of all the things he’s never spoken aloud or even been able to form into words inside his head, all the intangible horrors that can’t be shared.

“I’m not saying you have to give up every detail, but Cullen, you have to at least try, it’s--” Charlie’s voice is cracked, her fingers curl into a fist, knuckles pressing into his breastplate. He can’t feel it, but he can see the way her skin blanches from the pressure. “It’s killing you,” she continues. He can hear that it pains her to say so. “You almost relapsed. You asked Cassandra to replace you. You can’t even let me give you a simple compliment. Clearly you need to talk about this. Cullen, you can’t live like that. I can’t let you live like that and live with myself.” Her hand flattens on his chest. “You ass. I care about you.” She looks up at him fiercely and Cullen can see her concern and her determination there, the very stubbornness that has seen her through unimaginable trials.

Something pangs inside his chest, rattling about - an emotion too big to grasp. Something about the way the light hits her face just then, the way she digs right in to the very bottom of him, past every fear and past every reservation. He finds he can not say no.

He sighs. For her, then.

“For you, I can try.”

Charlie nods. “That’s all I ask.”

She lets her hand drop away from him, take a few steps back, seeming to understand his need for space. The doors are locked, that is bad enough. He migrates towards the window, peering out at the mountains, letting the view soothe him with its promise of endless open space as he begins to speak .

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #cullen rutherford #charlie trevelyan #cullen/inquisitor #this is a continuation of my previous post but im lazy #lindsay writes dragon age #commander cullen

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okimargarvez · 6 years

Text

HURT - 7

Prompt: Luke’s dark thought, destiny, contrasted love. Warnings: sexual content, dark thoughts. Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, BAU team, others. Pairing: Garvez. Multichapter (22).

MY OTHER GARVEZ STORIES

Chapter 1- Chapter 2- Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

HURT - Chapter 7

How can she fell for it again? How could she have believed for the umpteenth time that an attractive man like Luke (or like Battle) could feel something serious for her? And it’s useless to cry on herself, no matter how much she has consumed every handkerchief in her house. As bad as the chest hurts, for being too shaken by the sobs. But she will overcome it. She will manage it. The worst thing will be to have to work together again. Well. What was false, it will now be in truth. In other words, if she had made others believe she couldn’t bear him because he had replaced Derek, while in reality she was in love with him, from this moment on she would have been seriously professional and detached with him. She wouldn’t allow him to approach her. Any demon had taken hold of him while he was telling her those horrible things. That he was in the throes of a sort of nightmare. She didn’t care. She wasn’t able to stand next to a person with similar problems. She had almost come to love him, but it doesn’t matter. She would do everything to see him happy; but it doesn’t even matter.

Nothing matters anymore.

As if they were tearing him. Pulled from one side to the other. A medieval torture. An atrocious, unbearable pain. No tears flow down his cheeks. Not a groan. It stays all inside of him. And that's why it hurts even more. The ghosts are now of a different type than usual, to which he was sadly accustomed.

The ghosts, or rather the apparition, has delicate hands with glazed fingers of the colors of the rainbow, her touch is cool and refrigerant. Her blond hair, slightly wavy, tickled his shoulders. The rough tongue runs his skin from the side upwards, until it meets his mouth. She sucks his soul greedily. And her voice cries, whispers, alternately, together, always the same thing.

I really loved you, Luke. Why did you do this to me?

The woman's face is so infinitely sad, is that of a child.

But maybe it's better this way. The pain will diminish. It will leave him. It must be confident. Otherwise he will die. How is it said? What doesn’t kill you, make you stronger.

At this moment, however, there is no room for useless disquisitions. Only for continuous twists. With the knowledge that in a few hours he will see her again.

There isn’t the slightest chance that she chooses to take the elevator. Better stairs. Unfortunately, the same thing happens like during the summer holidays: everyone thinks they are the only ones who have had the brilliant idea of starting a timetable because there will be no one, as a result the streets are always clogged and you spend hours lined up. This is what passes through Penelope's head at the exact moment when she looks up from the last step and sees Luke come up from the opposite side, he too on the stairs. He notice her, but doesn’t say anything, just like her. He stops, so that she can pass first. When she has entered, he goes to her desk. There is no trace of the blonde. She will be hidden in her bunker. And it's better this way.

He looks at the bracelet on his wrist, caresses it, trying to calm down. Until they call for a new case, he will have to continue studying Peter Lewis, Mr. Scratch. It's been a long time, now a few months, but they haven’t made any kind of progress.

A message arrives. It's Emily. Five minutes in the meeting room. Update.

He decides to start before, still unable to get blood out of a stone, with those papers in his hands. When he reaches the room, he hears Garcia's animated voice and that of Spencer. There are also Prentiss and JJ. After a second Rossi appears behind him. Except from Tara, they are all there.

-Hey, is there a case?- he asks, unable to look at her. -What’s Tara’s brother’s picture doing up?- nobody says anything. JJ and Spencer are fake stupid. Then she explodes.

-Come on, the new guy? He knows? How come I was the last one to know?- he can’t stop himself from giggling, seeing her behaves in such way.

-It was an experiment. She wanted to time how long you could keep a private conversation private. And you made it 12 hours.- Spencer explains. The heart of Penelope breaks into further fragments. Only pride prevents her from crying.

Then he does a horrible thing. Shameful. -Damn, I had you down for six! - he exclaims, doing or rather believing to look as the nice guy.

-Oh, you know what? You guys, I thought you were my friends, but you suck! You all suck!- she glances disgusted at her colleagues and disappears, not before adding -Especially you, new guy, but you always suck! Newbie!- and the others don’t understand what she refers to. They think it's just another release to Garcia, but it's not like that. And she knows perfectly that Luke will understand what her target was aimed at.

He can’t ignore it. So, he follows her, not caring what their colleagues can think of. He increases the pace and intercepts her a second before she can open the door of her cave.

-Penelope!- she turns to him with a click. The face deformed by anger. Shiny eyes.

-What do you want?- she shouts to him. She puts her arms in a defensive position.

-What did you mean with that "you always suck"?- despite some tears have escaped her control, she smiles maliciously.

-Do you think you're the only one who can pretend?- she asks. Then she sees people passing out of the corner of her eye, then she drags him inside and closes the door. -I've never feel anything special when I was with you.- her voice is firm, firm. -In all cases nothing comparable to what made me feel Derek.- is the final stab, the decisive blow, the point of the KO.

Have they been together in that sense?

She sees him remain stunned, unable to ask anything, to open his mouth. Then she smiles to reinforce the deception, asking Savannah for forgiveness her in her head. Meanwhile, inside, she is dying. Because even after he has hurt her so deeply, she feels the instinct to cling to him and the temptation to forget. But fortunately, she doesn’t. She stays with her arms folded, waiting for him to find the strength to leave. And then she will immerse herself in the research that was about to begin. She will not cry. She will not allow it. Although the pain is even more acute, because not only him, made fun of her, but her team, her family. It was just a joke, but at that moment she was too vulnerable. She would give her life for each of them.

Luke feels his legs as heavy as lead. A voice in his head shouts to tell her the truth, to apologize. To explain why he said something like that. But it would mean having to confess everything, all his past. The whole Cullen case, starting from the mistake of undercover his best friend Phil Grenada, whose wife was the sixth month of pregnancy. But there were other agents available, much more experienced and prepared than him. But Luke had succumbed to his friend's requests: he couldn’t resist between the paperwork and spend the evenings deciding the type of diapers, the name, the color of the room... He should have been stronger, harder: he was the boss on that occasion and his decision was the only one that mattered. It was his fault. It's all his fault. Only his fault. And that had been the first of his mistakes. How could he send a man with his wife ready to give birth on such a mission? How could he have believed he wouldn’t try to contact her, contradicting the whole protocol?

How could he tell Penelope the thoughts that tormented him, the ghosts that came to visit him every day? The voices he heard? She would have obliged him to undergo a psychiatric examination. And no news would have emerged. He was already there, at his session. There had been no improvement, no deterioration. From the outside, he didn’t look crazy in the grip of visions. Nobody would have thought it. But she upset him. She puts him in total turmoil. Whenever he was with her, he felt like he was on the brink of an abyss. Or at a crossroads. Every single time could be wonderful, he could be able to live the best and show her the love she deserved, but the opposite could also happen. What he had did was just what he feared and promised not to do: hurt her.

Not just wounded. He had practically destroyed her, and he manages to see it, even though she wanted to show herself firm and severe. He reduced her to shatter. And this means that she loves him or rather, at this point, she loved him, really; that the voice he had heard in his head corresponds to reality.

-Agent Alvez, could you give me the pleasure of leaving my office, allowing me to do some more useful activities, and maybe you too could do something fruitful?- the question, the professional tone that at the beginning had made him laugh so much and entertained, which had attracted him like a magnet to her. And now it sounds deeply bitter. And yet his feet refuse to move.

This time, however, he must do the right thing. He will do it. The right thing for her.

Finally, when she is left alone, Penelope allows herself to relax her muscles and release tension. She had been about to ask him. Ask questions whose answers probably she wouldn’t have liked. But in the end, if he wanted to share something with her, he would not have done it before? Why should she persist in doing the good fairy, the godmother of all, the shoulder to cry, the friend listener and dispenser of advice, the Jiminy Cricket?

Why did she have to dig into the mud? Was it worthwhile to get treated in horrible ways, worse than a high-class prostitute? Sex between them had always been fantastic: both when he was hungry, and tender and attentive; whether he was sweet or curt; both when she had felt his girlfriend, or as his concubine. But sex couldn’t be enough. It would never have been enough for her. And what he had had from her, apart from sex, was a bit too little. The only time he had seemed about to reveal something to her, to explain what he had felt when JJ and he had been in that fire, he had run away as soon as he realized what he had done. In addition, his jealousy flattered her, but he also frightened her: twice, after seeing her talk to another man, he had behaved strangely, performing a kind of ritual as if to validate the fact that she belonged to him. He had also forced her to say it, although he had apologized later...

And another time he burst into tears, flooding her hair and blankets...

#garvez #penelope garcia #luke alvez #criminal minds #cm #penelope x luke #luke x penelope #garcia x alvez #alvez x garcia

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lacontroller1991 · 6 years

Text

Carlisle Cullen x Reader Vol. 3

(AN Esme doesn’t exist, poor Esme. I love her to bits.)

You were Bella’s older sister who had an internship opportunity at Fork’s hospital when she came to live with Charlie. You interned as an ER nurse for your medical classes you were taking when she got in the crash. Once you found out, you rushed to the room only to see your crush, Dr. Cullen, checking her over. You’re heart rate elevated and you could’ve sworn you saw him smirk in a sly way before turning his head to meet your eyes.

“Ah, Miss Swan, lovely seeing you here today. I thought you had the day off?”

“Oh I did, and then I found out that Bella got in an accident and rushed over here, speaking of which, Bella, are you okay?” You asked your younger sister as you stumbled over words while she giggled.

“I’m fine, just a little dizzy, shouldn’t you be in class right now (Y/N)?” She asked as Carlisle examined her eyes.

“Yeah, but the professor kicked me out of class because my phone kept going off saying on how my sister is at the hospital.” You mentioned as Dr. Cullen laughed and straightened his posture.

“Well, (Y/N), do you have your badge with you?” He asked as you nodded, confused as to where he was going with this.

“I wouldn’t mind if you would like to shadow me for the rest of the day,” you couldn’t believe what he said as you looked at your dad with a begging look.

“Could I please? I think he would give me good insight!”

“I guess, you better be home before 7 though,” he said as you thanked him and stood by Carlisle.

“Well, Isabella, it looks like you have a slight concussion, so just take things easy for a while and you’ll be okay,” Dr. Cullen stated before walking out of the room with you in tow. Little did you know, you were in for a very informational day.

Ever since that day, you and Carlisle, as he insisted you called him, grew close. After your classes and internship shifts, you would shadow him as he worked around the hospital, but during that time, you guys would learn more about each other. There was one day in particular that stood out to you, however. You sat in his office doing homework while he did paperwork when you needed help, he would assist you with your medical homework, which brought an unusual conversation.

“Do you cook by chance?” He had asked one day while you and he did your normal routine.

“Eh, sometimes, only when Charlie is working late do I cook,” you mentioned as he nodded, stopping his work for a moment and looking at you, causing you to look up.

“How would you feel about coming over to my house and cooking a meal for your sister?” He asked as you rolled your eyes, irritated about how he was talking about your sister again.

“Why would I come to your house to cook for her? She can cook!” You exclaimed as he chuckled.

“My son Edward invited her over for a meal and none of us know how to cook,” he admitted as your jaw dropped.

“You have 5 kids and you don’t know how to cook?”

“Well, we all are vegan, and I am sure Bella wouldn’t just want salad and fruit.” His laugh that sounded like bells made you more attracted to him, the only thing being was that he had 5 kids.

“I mean, I guess,” you shrugged as he gave you a thankful look before going back to work.

It was that day over a year ago that you found out about him being a vampire. You were shocked but slowly got used to the fact of dating a vampire. After the meal he asked you to prepare, he had asked you on a date as a thank you gift, but one date turned into many and sooner than later you two were dating. Now you sat in his living room as the whole Cullen family watched Bella and Edward intensively.

“So you guys already know what I want and the only fair way is to vote,” Bella stated as you sighed inwardly, annoyed that she brought it up again, “Alice?” She questioned the pixie as Alice walked up to her.

“I already consider you my sister,” she said, hugging Bella while you felt left out. Jasper gave you a look as you shrugged your shoulder.

“I vote yes, only if (Y/N) gets changed as well. It would be nice not wanting to kill them all the time,” he joked as Carlisle looked at you in question, asking you through his body language if you wanted to be changed. You nodded. You knew what Jasper said was only half true. Your love for the Civil War made the bonding of you and Jasper easier as he would retell the tales of his time in the cavalry.

“I’m sorry for how I have acted towards you two,” Rosalie started in reference to Edward and Bella before continuing, “but this isn’t the life I would’ve wanted for myself, and I wish there was someone to say no for me,” she ended giving them an apologetic look as Bella nodded solemnly.

“I vote hell yeah!” Emmett exclaimed as he twirled your sister in the air. You got up from your seat and grabbed your keys.

“I’ll see you later Carlisle,” you left before he could stop you. Tears streaming down your face as you drove along the wet roads. Your blurred vision effected your driving capabilities and you couldn’t see the deer that was in front of you. Your car hit the deer and swerved to the side, crashing into trees as your car totaled and you blacked out.

Three days. Three days of burning was your punishment for reckless driving. You thought you were dead in Hell but your heartbeat told you otherwise, it was when your heartbeat stopped that your eyes opened. The dust around the room, vivid in your vision until a familiar brunette came into view.

“(Y/N)! Thank God you’re okay,” your sister said, hugging you, but your thirst for blood ached your throat. It scratched and burned as the scent of her blood made you thirsty.

“Bella, get away from her, she is thirsty, let Carlisle take her hunting before she talks to you,” Edward stated, pulling Bella behind him as you growled lowly and got in a threatening stance before a scent of mulled spices and pine drafted to your nose. You looked in the direction of the scent only to find Carlisle standing there with a smile on his face. As he walked towards you, you felt a strong connection pulling you to him. Getting up from the bed you were lying on, you walked towards him as he opened his arms, waiting for you to hug him which you did, inhaling his scent as you gripped him tightly.

“Have you seen yourself yet?” He asked as you shook your head no. He smiled and urged you to the mirror in his bathroom where you looked at your self. Your (H/C) hair grew out more as your skin had become flawless, the bit of light that shone through the window bounced off your skin like a million diamonds. Your figure was curved to perfection and your teeth a stunning white. But what stood out the most was your vivacious crimson eyes and the kneeling figure behind you with a box in his hand that held a simple, yet elegant ring that looked centuries old.

“I was waiting until marriage to change you with your permission, but due to the crash which I should’ve and could’ve prevented, I had no choice to change you then and there, which leads to now and holds the key to our future. So Miss (Y/N) (Y/M/N) Swan, will you do this old man an honour and take his hand in marriage?” He asked as Rosalie, Emmett, Alice, and Jasper waited in anticipation, Edward had taked Bella home and away from you until your were good enough not to drink her dry.

“Well Doctor Carlisle Cullen, I would be the most stupid person in the universe if I said no,” you laughed as he remained on one knee.

“So, is that wedding bells I am hearing?” Alice asked as you nodded your head with the biggest smile on your face.

“Yes, Carlisle, yes.” You exclaimed as he got up and hugged you, twirling you around and kissing you passionately as you kissed back, gripping to him like life depended on it, and to think, all of this because of that stupid crash a year ago.

(A/N: This is downright the sappiest love story I have written, I was smiling like an idiot writing the ending, hope you enjoy @fandomgirl9193 )

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