#he wants to be spoiled but also. bull gets spoiled too. but also dorian has to Help
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❝ stay here, i'll run you a bath. ❞ 🥺🥺🥺
@whalefelled
And here Dorian had believed he was doing such a great job at looking neutral at worst. A tired smile managed to crawl its way onto his face, only the corners of his lips quirking upwards, minute enough a movement that most would likely have missed it. But, of course, Bull was not in the category of 'most'. He flexed his fingers by his sides, trying to get any annoyance worked out through small movements — after all, his irritation was not on account of Bull, so he knew well that he didn't want to take it out on him.
"Us," was Dorian's only initial response. Much as he adored being pampered, had been raised in luxury, he had found in recent times that luxury is so much more enjoyable when indulged in with someone else important. A piece of his mind chastised him for those thoughts, considering them to be ridiculous and in the realm of dreams. But no, Dorian wasn't at home any longer, and anything could be reality, evidently, and what a beautiful reality it could be.
Those fidgety hands found their way to try to sort out his hair and mustache, ensure that he still looked vaguely presentable despite feeling rather terribly — cold and a tad congested, and did he mention cold? Regardless, Dorian still had to look good, even if all eh had to impress were himself and Bull, the former of which would never be satisfied and the latter of which would always.
"Useless to have me stay put, anyhow, whoever is going to heat the water, hmm?" No matter what, Dorian did so hate to feel useless. Relying on someone was fine, so long as he still contributed in some way. He was positive that Bull understood.
#whalefelled#{ you'd be surprised at the credit my tongue gets me. } — [ v: main ]#{ you seem very interested in my opinions. } — [ asks ]#vaguely unwell dorian could literally be anything from allergies to sleep deprivation to light cold#he wants to be spoiled but also. bull gets spoiled too. but also dorian has to Help
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dorian complaining and adaar doing jack shit about it but telling him how cute he looks angry and making the problem worse
"Would it kill us to find an actual FORD once in an age, so we stop scrambling up and down every muddy embankment on the continent?"
"We'll get you boots with a better tread."
"You're being patronizing."
"I'm not!"
"When you say ~I'm not~ and smile that way, you're absolutely being patronizing and also an awful liar."
"How can I be patronizing if I can't lie?"
"Oh, for the love of...I know it doesn't require a magic hand and you're busy with so many other delightful chores, but will you PLEASE haul me out of this river before another bear shows up?"
* * * * *
"I swear on the Maker, this horse is tripping over every stone in the Dales on purpose. She's a menace."
"She's not, Dorian...she's doing her best."
"Do you speak to horses now, Cole?"
"Animals don't keep secrets."
"Well, tell her if she doesn't step more carefully I won't be able to cross my legs for a fortnight."
"It's all right, Cole. After this assignment we can ask Master Dennet if there's a pony more Dorian's size. Or at least a feather-stuffed saddle."
"Oh, indeed, the ballads shall sing of the Dread Inquisitor Adaar...a qunari with a sense of humor."
"Hey Vint, lemme know if you need the kinks worked out later."
"Amendment. One with a sense of humor, and another with a death wish. I've had it with all of you."
"...with me, too?"
"Y...no, Cole. You're all right."
* * * * *
"Mountains! Cold! 'Let's bring Dorian!'. Where in blazes is the fire?"
"You know, Vint, you can snap your fingers anytime!"
"Well it isn't my turn, is it, you lazy brute. Anyway, I can't feel my fingers."
"At least you have all ten of 'em..."
"Ah, but for how long?"
"Here...take your gloves off."
"Inquisitor...Adaar, it's fine."
"No, here...better?"
"Mm. That's warm."
"Yeah."
"...how long are you going to let me get away with keeping my hands in your jacket?"
"Until you quit your bitching--!"
"--I NEVER WILL!"
"Alright, you two, that's enough."
* * * * *
"I've one job, and one job only, by the Maker's shiny gold cutlery, I will do it. He was proud of himself. At the end."
"That's great, Cole. That's...that's super. Boss? There's no loot here. What do you want to do?"
"I need a minute. The one with the arms...the spikes, almost cleaned my clock. Is my horn chipped? Bull, can you see?"
"Nah, just a scuff. It'll polish out."
"My head's still ringing. We have daylight, though...let's keep going northwest. Dorian, what do you think?"
"..."
"Dorian?"
"Yes. Northwest. As you say."
"Dorian, are you all right?"
"Fine. Tired. It's...fine."
"Shit, 'Vint, you look gray."
"Dorian, here...sit...come on, lean on me."
"I...just need my potions case. Please. I can't quite..."
"You're all out. You don't have any more?"
"He's nearly hollow. The song wants in."
"No. No, Dorian. Come on. We need to get you away from the red lyrium. Okay? Shit...Dorian, why didn't you say something?"
"You...always tease."
* * * * *
"You're an awful bed hog."
"Oh...you must be feeling better."
"I don't. My head is staging a rebellion. My stomach, too."
"Poor guy..."
"Something in my mouth has already died. Where are we?"
"Direstone camp. Still first watch. No, don't get up, it's fine."
"You must be numb from the waist down sitting here."
"You're a good lap warmer. Even when you're mumbling in your sleep."
"Don't make fun. All I have on your scouts is my evil magister intimidation factor...now I've been seen with a case of the vapors and my stamina is in question."
"You told me about mana imbalance. I should have paid more attention."
"Yes, you should've."
"And you should have said something."
"Why? Only to be reminded I'm a spoiled princeling who can't clear trees by headbutting them, unlike some members of this party? If I hadn't run out of lyrium tonics I'd have been fine."
"I don't want you to just be -fine-, Dorian. I want you here, with me. Whining the whole time if necessary."
"Oh...Taio, I daresay that's rather romantic..."
"I'll make you a deal. You go back to complaining, and I'll be sure to give my spoiled princeling a chance to prove his stamina more often. I promise."
"Since we already know you're an awful liar, I accept."
#dragon age#dorian x adaar#dorian x inquisitor#dorian pavus#taio adaar#my writing#dear lord dorian's voice abandoned me for MONTHS I think it's finally back#wrote this at work instead of doing a project due in an hour and a half
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Inquisitor Ask Meme
Reposting this for fun.
Anyone else want to take a crack? What kind of Inky would you be?
@allsortsoflicorice? @tyramir ? Bueller?
1. Race:
Human.
2. Class/Specialization:
Rift mage.
3. Your homeland?
The Free Marches. Wycome, to be precise.
4. Your family?
Keep my family out of this; they have things to do besides die.
5. Who were you before?
A Circle Mage of some skill and much fear. Given my personality, the Circle would probably not cater to my strengths. It would make me more nervous and paranoid than I already am. The Inquisition would force me out of my comfort zone and give me some resilience I would never otherwise develop. Left to my own devices, I’d fall prey to obsession, and possibly possession by a Pride demon.
6. Would you be religious?
I’ve read a lot of books by Brother Genitivi and Philliam! A Bard; I’m actually using my clout as Inquisitor to gather whatever is known about the Black City. You might say I’m an originist, I want to know where we came from; Andraste is kind of late on the scene for my interests.
Post-Trespasser, this quest will more or less eat my brain.
Short answer: obsessed with “religious” subject matter, not religious per se.
7. Do you have a mabari?
Nope. But I spoil Cullen’s baby.
8. Your opinion on other races?
Raised to “not be racist” (as far as that goes) in cosmopolitan, edgy, free-wheeling Wycome; family with a ton of Dwarven trading connections. Angry about the elves. Knew loads of elven enchanters in the Circle, but I have awkward awareness of human privilege around the Dalish.
Fascinated by the Shaperate. Wish all Thedas had those. Can you imagine?
Worried about the Qun, but deeply impressed with the handful of Qunari I’ve met in person. Not mindless drones at all. Disciplined. Community first has some virtues, must say.
9. What would Varric’s nickname for you be?
Baffler.
10. What would your tarot card look like?
The High Priestess: an older, abbess-looking chick standing at a scriptorium, surrounded by magical paraphrenalia and a gorgeous view out my high window. Raven (with message) standing on the windowsill.
11. Where would you hang out in Skyhold?
My bespoke mage tower, if I’m not in the Undercroft picking Dagna’s brain. Do a little weeding in the herb garden from time to time; we’re growing some fascinating things in there.
After Solas leaves, I’d go spend time in the destroyed holding cells, watching the water fall.
12. What would you do for fun?
Study. Knit. Paint. Visit my horses; the smell of horses is very comforting.
I’d have highly technical arguments with Dorian and spend a lot, a lot, a lot of time talking to Solas.
13. What armor would you wear?
Cutting-edge tactical enchanted fabric. Light, layered, tweedy, enchanted.
I’d probably get sucked into magical materials research, specifically, making improvements to armor base-layers. I’m obsessed with armor. I have a whole research group (headed by Dagna, Cullen consulting) devoted to armor improvement.
14. What would your room look like?
Given the state of my current room, a chaotic mess of books, papers, research tools, letters from colleagues, blueprints, schematics, dirty dishes, orchids, and automata (Josie and I would be doll-geeks together).
15. Who would be your friends at Skyhold?
I try to make sure that the Inner Circle understands how much I appreciate them as a general rule.
As for friends:
Cassandra is one of the great ones. Just about the best person I know. Never met anyone so ready to acknowledge her mistakes. I’d trust her to be the next Divine.
Dorian is a dear. One of the best sounding-boards. Somebody peel that man a grape.
Cullen and Josephine are terrific advisors, couldn’t ask for better, their own problems of course, we’re all doing our best. I’d like to know Cullen better—suspect we have things, Circle things, to talk about. In another life, maybe.
I’d get on with Varric—everyone gets on with Varric, come on—but I find him ultimately very armored, hard to know. Hid his best friend, didn’t he? Never talks about the lady he loves.
Sera is actually easy to understand. Raw genius with a bow, one of the best to have along, out in the field. Not exactly my friend. So down on the Dalish. It’s her business, though. She and Dagna are adorable together. She makes Dagna happy, that’s good enough for me.
I have a bit of a GP for the Iron Bull. (He had me at “front-line bodyguard.”) Never acted on it, though.
Solas is my… see… well, see below.
16. Would you have any friends outside of the Inquisition?
I’d have the Thedas version of LinkedIn comrades in Antiva, Nevarra, and Orlais—researchers all. Plus one brilliant friend who’s a materials mage based out of Denerim, working with Sandal on woven metal enchantments; call her my “knitting buddy.”
17. Who wouldn’t you get along with?
Leliana would trouble me. Don’t like having someone this emotional and vindictive managing our intel networks. It’s bad juju, Ambassador; can’t trust her judgment, can you? And that feels like a loose end. Put us in a tight spot someday. Couldn’t we ask Varric…? No, I quite see that. Still.
I’d understand Vivienne, and try to maintain a cordial relationship because I think most of her head is in the right place, even though she is entirely too power-oriented for a real friendship.
Blackwall’s “find Darkspawn, kill them, repeat” approach would bother me. When I found out the truth about him, it would confirm my feeling that you need to lie to yourself, a lot, to just have enemies and kill them without compunction. I would also find myself highly influenced by Solas’s take on the Wardens.
18. Who would you romance?
I’m a Circle mage who’s watched close friends be tormented by romantic love. Demonic possession and Tranquility. Babies taken away. This is not the kind of conditioning that disappears just because you take me out of a Circle. In my youth I worked it out by restricting myself to impossible love objects—there was this one Templar, very stern, very disciplined…he’d barely speak to me… Well. That was many years ago.
That said, the best impossible love object I’ve ever encountered in my life is Solas.
What does it matter, really? Bonds of friendship, don’t you know; romantic love leads to envy demons. I’m old now, at any rate. Inquisigeezer not exactly a romanceable character.
19. Would you do pranks with Sera?
Probably not. Too busy. Too tired. Feel too much sympathy for her innocent victims.
But I would do operations with Sera, with pleasure.
20. Would you sleep with the Iron Bull (casually if not romance)?
My front-line bodyguard? Get on with you. It would get too complicated—for me, I mean, not him.
21. Would you keep Cole around?
Yes. And I’d agonize about what would be the best path for him to take, and probably make him a spirit.
22. Can you play the game (politics)?
Yes. I’m better at it the more distant it is. If you’re talking about what to say at a party, I’ve developed a persona for that sort of thing. Stakes are high. Can’t be fooling around. A mage, remember? This guard drops, I get possessed; lose my temper, might incinerate you, can’t have that.
23. What would be on your tombstone in the fade (What are you afraid of)?
“The world fell apart on my watch.”
24. Who would you recruit to seal the breach?
Mages. I understand mages. Their leadership’s been simply awful. Not sure what Fiona did with her spine. Without decent leadership, it’s mages running amok, trying to protect themselves, doing awful things out of fear; can’t have that, they’ll pull their own house down. Get them out of the weeds, stick ‘em in the Inquisition, give them a chance to show what they can do for the right cause.
25. Opinion on Mages versus Templars?
It’s all about training, though, isn’t it? Templars and mages both need much, much better training. Without training, without a penetrating education with a solid grasp of magical theory, history, ethics—co-train the mages and templars, make ‘em take core courses together. Make them work together in strike teams; I’ve been doing that since we recruited ‘em, they actually partner well, as long as you’re not, you know, mad.
I would become obsessed (do you see the recurrence of this word) with the idea that mages could be Seeker-trained to resist possession and mind control, obviating the need for Tranquility. These disciplined (another key word) and trustworthy mages could be placed in a position of joint authority with properly educated Templars to create a College of Magi with research cells all over Thedas…
Yeah. We’ll see how that works out.
26. Who would be put in charge of Orlais and why?
Celine and Briala. Celine is the one with the right temperament, and for some reason I viscerally understand Briala. I’m all about reparations and integrating elven populations and something something protect the Dalish (can’t we actually give them the Dirth?).
27. Would you sacrifice the Chargers?
I couldn’t.
28. Would you go after Blackwall?
Oh, yes. And I’d keep him on, as Thom Rainier.
29. Would you drink from the well?
Knowing me? Not knowing the implications except for those vague warnings? Yes, I would, and it would affect me for the rest of my life.
I’d spend what’s left of myself using whatever insight and connections the Well gave me to work on Solas.
30. Where would you go if the Inquisition was disbanded?
Under ordinary circumstances, the College. Daresay they’d want me to do something draining and administrative because of my being the (ex)Inquisitor; I’d look for a research niche but probably not get to keep it.
Solas is not ordinary circumstances. I’d dedicate the rest of my life to that problem.
31. How do you react to the egg telling you he is an elven god?
I’d naively and arrogantly imagine that I could—if we could just get enough time to sit down together—he must understand what he’s likely to bring about, he needs people to talk to, dammit—
He would be the death of me, I’m afraid.
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Thirsty Thursday?
Oh man, @odekiax2 tagged me in this FOREVER ago. I struggle to promote myself, honestly, because I feel like I am a lot but I’m trying to get better and fake some self confidence here. SO. Here is me promoting myself for ‘Thirsty for Attention Thursday’:
The Girl with the Arrow Tattoo
Do you have a thing for Fine Dwarven Chest Hair direct from Kirkwall? Like heroines with a whole lot of spunk and crippling traumatic experiences they've stuffed way deep down inside? Fascinated by the idea of what the Iron Bull wears in a Modern!AU? Wanna see what happens when Bianca is a sentient AI who's kinda snarky? Got a think for magic in modern settings? Ready for some fucking hilarious crack fiction while also bawling your eyes out about angst? How about slow burns that last for fucking ever and make you wanna throw tables at the author? God do I have the fic for you.
Please enjoy Girl with the Arrow Tattoo, a modern retelling of Inquisition (WITH MAGIC) that involves a sentient castle, technology with a mind of it's own, and so much brooding that Fenris can't even. Featuring a Female Inquisitor Cadash/Varric Tethras main pairing with some healthy helpings of Female Amell/Zevran, Female Hawke/Fenris, OC Female Cadash/Sera, and Dorian/Iron Bull.
This fic, for the most part, updates every other week.
Depths of Desire
Oh sorry, did I hear you want more crack fiction with your crack fiction? You're in luck. From your neighborhood purveyor of fine dwarven bullshit direct from Orzammar let me introduce you to Varric Tethras, but as a pirate because I'm shameless.
Don't worry, all your favorite tropes remain in play! Scandalous rogue with a heart of gold? Check. Traumatized heroine learning to love and trust again? Check. Dwarves? Of course there are dwarves.
Dwarven legend long holds that there's a hidden city in the sea full of beautiful shapeshifting women who shed their seal skin to dance and frolic on shore, enchanting the men they meet, before vanishing back into the ocean.
Captain Varric Tethras doesn't believe in that bullshit at all until, suddenly, he's in possession of one lovely seal pelt. And a furious dwarven woman who comes with it.
The Belle Bianca (of course that is the name of the ship do not doubt me) won't be safe until he sets her free. Except... nothing is ever that easy, is it?
This fic, for the most part, updates every other week.
Are you in it for the smut? Oh so am I.
In addition to my long fics, I shamelessly post porn fairly often. Most of it features my OCs, Varric and Maria, being sexy. HOWEVER. I do occasionally branch out and I like requests. Here’s some of my most recent:
Skyhold After Dark: Featuring @tightassets‘s Lilitu and Keaton Hawke, this is an Elven Inquisitor seducing and having her way with the larger-than-life Champion of Kirkwall. This adventure features TightAsset’s gorgeous art, throne sex, and some MINOR light exhibitionism.
Spoils of the Avvar: Varric receives a gift of Avvar armor, Inquisitor Cadash greatly approves. Shameless dwarven smut featuring the Frostback Basin and tree houses.
The Inquisitor’s Sweet Tooth: Maria Cadash has a reputation for like things sweet. See what happens when that mixes with some light bondage and the penchant of these two idiots to drive each other insane with their teasing.
I wish I could say this is all of it, but it isn’t. I am a prolific bullshitter and have posted over a million words of DA Fanfiction. If you’re interested, please feel free to check me out over at AO3 under manka or cartadwarfwithaheartofgold.
If I’m shamelessly self-promoting, yall should too. No pressure!
@schoute, @lauraemoriarty, @kittimau, @lostinfantasies38, @jennserr, @river-of-asgard, @lesetoilesfous, @tevivinter, @midnightprelude, @heyitsharding, @fasterpuddytat, @silvanils, @lellium, @blarfkey, @shadowcrow, @parera-zuul-jar(both you lovelies!), @pikapeppa, @solas-disapproves, @corylion, @fandomn00blr, @charlatron, @alyssalenko, and anyone else who wants to play!
#girl with the arrow tattoo#depths of desire#dwarven smut princess#cartadwarfwithaheartofgold#cartadwarfwrites#cartadwarfwrites a lot#thirsty thursday#shameless self promo
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hello, its nora (she/her, gmt) n this is the ethereal but spoiled alma olive putnam (she goes by all 3 names cos she’s pretentious as fuck). raised in a farmhouse in vermont, big horse girl energy. very hungry for everything life has to offer. wakes up and smells the success in her blood. luvs the smell of libraries and listening to french music from a tinny record player in knee socks. here is pinterest. bio is below the cut, like this post to be bombarded with plotting messages but i might forget tho so pls message me x
application template.
『ELLE FANNING ❙ CIS-FEMALE』 ⟿ looks like ALMA OLIVE PUTNAM is here for HER JUNIOR year as a CLASSICS student. SHE is 21 years old & known to be RESILIENT, MAGNETIC, CALLOUS & PROUD. They’re living in PERKINS, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ NORA. 24. GMT. SHE/HER.
aesthetics.
a red beret nestled on top of bright platimum locks, neck scarves tied around your throat the way they do it in french new wave films, running barefoot through the woods in feckless hedonism, china dolls with porcelain faces lined against the walls of your room, the mona lisa smile, knee-socks tugged over the hockey grazes on your knees, a forged botticelli drying on your easel, ophelia floating in the middle of a lake.
proceed w caution, tw for death, drugs, alcohol, violence
the short form.
— studying classics cos she thinks it makes her sound smart, but actually hates fuckin latin and just loves learning about feckless hedonism and the festivals of bacchus and writing about how all women in myth are literally forgotten. was expelled from princeton in her first year so her parents basically paid her way into radcliffe but she made an impression.... like... super fast and in her sophomore year she was upgraded to perkins accomodation n a paid scholarship bcos i think the governors kind of expect to see her in the supreme court one day or.
— born in vermont in a big old farmhouse. her great-great-grandfather moved to america as an immigrant and worked on a plantation, made his way up cos he could speak a lot of languages and therefore win more people over. for the last two generations, putnam men have owned the farm and do little of the dirty work. big in the meat industry.
— both her parents had large personalities, so alma’s never really been shy around adults, even as a kid she’d speak to them in a forthright, confident manner, and because she was always surrounded by adults, she’s always seemed a bit wise beyond her years.
— very much a consolidation of every character in the secret history. has a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs. obsessed with w.h. auden and the beat poets.
— ”aestheticism is the only thing worth pursuing and even that is pointless”
— is majoring in classical civilisation. can read ancient greek and latin. also speaks french.
— studies hard and plays hard. she gets top marks but it’s because academia is literally her life, she loves the smell of libraries, the ancient smoke of learning, of feeling like old wine in a new bottle reincarnated from the bones of some old, dead witchy woman who invented a cure for cowpox or somethin.
— isn’t a foward-planner, however. alma prefers to leave her options open, play the field, live in a spontaneous manner so her study style is mostly cramming a few days before a test, or staying up all night writing an essay on a massive adrenaline boost powered by red bull or probably adderall, scribbling (or typing) furiously into the night.
— pretentious motherfucker. loves poetry, especially the romantics, loves morbid ones too, edgar allen poe, sylvia plath, allen ginsberg, she just loves them all. can’t get enough. her favourite films are like…. wanky artfilm independent european cinema. especially french new wave. “what do you think of goddard’s work??” while snorting a line off someone’s sink at 5am on a school night, but you can bet she’ll make it to that 9am class.
— very intelligent and beautiful and knows both of those facts. plays devil’s advocate. humanitarian, vegan.
— judgemental but takes great care not to appear so. petty and vindictive
— obsessively devours mystery and thriller novels. she herself is a gillian flynn book waiting to happen.
— tries to be an enigma. wants to be mysterious and unreadable because that’s what books have taught her makes women desirable and interesting and cool. very amy dunne in the way she expertly reinvents herself to suit her audience, when she wants to impress
— act like the flower but be the serpent under it. is a user. manipulative. leads people on. will throw another student under the bus to demonstrate her own intelligence and integrity
— heavily involved in the theatre society. loves attention.
— has an addictive personality. seems unable to do anything in a small dose, she has to let it utterly consume her. with sports, she’s fiercely competitive, runs track, played lacrosse at school, now is a cheerleader probably. with alcohol, it’s never a shot, it’s a whole bottle – wine or whiskey – she’ll be table dancing before the night’s up and making out with someone she’ll regret in the morning.
— her clothing style is like…. vintage thrift store but make it preppy. berets and cute hats, neck scarves, large fluffy cardigans or like those leathery jackets with big suede fringes on them, mini skirts (very 70s), and knee-high socks or boots. quite often she’ll be in sports kit, maybe a cute tennis skirt, n when she’s feeling casual she’ll wear like, a talking heads tshirt with a pair of mom jeans and converse, but otherwise, the library is her catwalk.
— relates to ophelia from hamlet and sibyl vane in dorian gray. weirdly obsessed with women who commit suicide. loves jackson pollock paintings and abstract art.
– likes old things. old books, old music, old houses, it reminds her of happier times like when she wasn’t alive. buys all her music on vinyl and has a gramophone because “the sound quality is better” kfdsjj.
plots.
here are some generic wanted plots but by all means message me so we can flesh them out more if any strike ur interest:
study buddies !! someone who is equally unprepared and so spends all night in the library with alma before a big deadline, maybe they even met in the library
if they’re from new england or vermont, then cousins . second cousins / extended family / family friends – probably spat volavons on your character once as children, omg childhood friends !
people who live in perkins n feel like they r constantly competing with one another to keep their place as one of the #elite only know each other from brief interactions in the lift or the canteen
honestly someone who is fully in love with her or crushing on her that she can just break would be sweet :/ or on the other hand someone she unexpectedly gets feelings for and actually wants to guage her own eyeballs out bc of it
frinds !! unlikely friends !! toxic friends !! former best friends separated by sporting or academic rivalries !
hockey / cheer friends who are on other teams but who she absolutely loves playin against!!!
fellow academics who like meeting up to discuss latin and greek ! gimme a secret society bonding by their love of ancient learning
i reckon she’s in a lot of societies, definitely the film club, maybe works as a projectionist at the uni cinema if they have one so give me ppl affiliated with that, give me fellow wanky pretentious art-lovers and poets and historians who will go to museums and galleries with her and listen to the velvet underground on vinyl
people she gets mortally fucked off her tits with at parties
people who think she is throwing her academic potential away by caving to hedonistic impulse
A SECRET SOCIETY !!! honestly i would die for a slug club esque thing in which the children of notable families are invited to dinners OR alma’s also an art forger, so maybe like a club of students set up to basically forge paintings and documents from the university special collections
people she has drunkenly made out with, hooked up with, or regularly sleeps with casually, maybe even a friend w benefits she is repressing feelings for, i love angst,
people she used to date or unrequitedly likes, but to them it’s just a physical thing, give me all the thirsty angst plots, and maybe some softness too, i need some religion in this girls life, she is a roman catholic after all
full biography.
alma olive putnam.
intro.
the girl is a knife. razor-sharp, double-edged, the bright shine of a two-faced, lovely thing. silver like the secrets you magpie thief from other heads. you’re a scavenger of knowledge, of tidbits, of gossip to lock away for later use and late-night re-inspection. a mind is like a clock if you get to learn the pieces. bit by bit, you dismantle the inner workings of the brains that tick around you – how easy it is to change it’s path, how words and their meanings can make a person laugh or cry in an instant. to have the power to control that is to be a god. it’s the power trip you crave wielding pom-poms in your hands; a possessive need for control that a younger you, small and weak, never had as a child. small lips, smaller smile, a doll clutched in your too-hungry fingers, hard enough to shatter the bones of a real infant. you cut your hair with your mother’s kitchen scissors before the autumn falls, rendering you out of season, unfit for the cold weather that beats against the nape of your neck, where a stick-and-poke marks the star you were born under ; the bull. “mama, when will i be a queen?” as soon as they find a crown small enough not to slip from your head.
biography.
if you get hungry enough, they say, you start eating your own heart. hands red, stained by pomegranate seeds, the empty pulp of its shell splattered on your thighs you find yourself wondering – what would it be like to want? in the beginning, you never knew hunger. twins, born under the same star, you first, him second – a nuclear family. never a sister to compete with, you were always the cherry pie of your parents’ hearts. white-haired, blue-eyed, beautiful baby of mine. the townhouse in vermont and the summer house in lyon, you wanted for nought, showered with attention, saddled with gifts - hardly a wonder you came to rely on such affection as a confirmation of your own worth.
at eight years old you first met death, blood on a gingham-print dress, a smear of it over your cheekbone and the pulp of a mangled animal at your feet murdered by the hands of a stable boy. “alma, my precious baby, you get away from that filth,” your mama would cry from the upstairs balcony – cigar in one hand and a bloody mary in the other – though whether the filth she referred to was the dead pig or the boy with a kernel of corn in his mouth, you never did find out.
your family earned their keeps in farming, great-grandfather wolfgang hildegarde a german immigrant, great-grandmother maura lisbon a prairie girl. they fell hopelessly in love between troughs and pig-shit, working for three dollars a day at a farm their descendants would later own, trade deals with the indians, vacations to calcutta, your father todd putnam in the kind of sheepskin coat his father’s father could only dream of owning. he worked hard so that you’d never have to. your mama once asked – you heard it through the window, rounding cartwheels across the picket-fenced lawn – could he not find a respectable career rather than selling shrink-wrapped pork for a dime a dozen? that blood money had no business raising a child. you look far back enough, edie, your father had said in his low, strong voice that could bring a civil war to silence, and i think you’ll find that all money is blood money.
language was never fickle on your tongue, french dinner time talk by the time you were out of your hush puppy shoes, your mama fixing the au pair a smile as she fixed herself another martini. you learned the clarinet at four and how to dance with the grace of a swansong at six, ethereal under a spotlight, an audience captive in the palm of your hand. by eight you knew that you’d always been destined to be loved. loved so hard they would want to taste you, bite into the soft plump of your cheek and eat you alive. that was how magnetic you wanted to feel. but mother hamsters eat their own young when penned in together too long, and soon you became too wild, too restless, another package on your father’s delivery invoice, box-shipped out to english boarding school.
fitting in had never been something you had to concern yourself with. you were always the shiny new toy the other girls wanted to play with, bright like a dropped coin from a magpie’s beak. wherever you went, you seemed to leave a trail of awe, pig-tailed harriet’s adoring you, imitating you, teachers forgiving your class-time chatter for the sake of your wild heart and the restless spirit you possessed. tell us what it’s like in the states, alma. they’d coo, enamoured by your hollywood drawl. does your father own a gun? you hardly knew. barely even knew the colour of his hair, for the scarce amount of times he’d stoop to kiss your cheek, though you’d tell silver-tongued tales if it’d guaranteed you an audience. when you learned how to smile at the right times, and that flattery would get you everywhere, it soon became apparent that charm would pave the yellow brick road to success even when your lack of drive couldn’t.
the road you followed – gum-snapping, roller-blading, friendship bands all up your arm – eventually led you to radcliffe. bright-eyed and gingham skirted, you’d always known you were more. there was a hunger in you to be something extraordinary, a want so adamant to be imagined and desired that it was almost savage. in leather-bound volumes and a circle of stones, you were helen of troy, the girl for whom they’d launch a thousand ships. but there’s so much rage within you, collecting like sawdust in cavernous parts. hockey helped. there was something grounding about the feeling of a stick clasped in your hands. sweat. stiff knuckles. feet pounding the earth. the smash of wood against flesh in the scram of a game, passed off as mere enthusiasm. “slipped, sorry.” hockey is the one thing you had that was yours alone – a feral instinct that motivates you to play; something primitive within you that sparks an energy like no other. on the pitch, you feel alive. you feel like a god.
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Everyone comforting A young Lavellan Inquistior who thought of Solas as a father figure then finding out who he really is? (Sorry for my bad english)
Run solas. Just- just run.
Cassandra: The seeker could feel her blood boil as she held the crying Inquisitor, the poor elf had been crying for hours. Talking about how stupid they felt, only to have Cassandra stop them to remind them that; nobody could’ve seen this coming. They had all trusted Solas, and he tricked everyone. He was a master manipulator and nothing could’ve stopped this from happening sadly. She will bring them their favorite meals and make sure they aren’t left alone for too long, she knows the pain of loosing a loved one. And she can only imagine how much more it hurts when that loved one is like a father to you.
Dorian: If anyone knows how to deal with disappointing father-figures it’s Dorian Pavus. He can’t help but see himself in the shaking mess of an Inquisitor, and he takes it upon himself to support the Inquisitor through this. Whenever they need him he is quick to be there and he spends hours in their quarters just calming them down and trying to make them laugh. This wasn’t their fault and he has to make sure they know that before he even thinks about finding and killing Solas for doing this.
Sera: She is so angry, Sera actually trusted that elfy-fucker for a split second and she will never let that happen again. Her heart breaks seeing the young Inquisitor crying and blaming them-self, and she will take every second being awake to remind them that this isn’t their fault. Whenever she finds anything with Fen’Harel on it she breaks it to bits before the Inquisitor even gets the chance to look at it. She brings a large amount of cookies and milk, and even some of Varrics books should the Inquisitor like them.
Blackwall: He will turn into a dad so damn quickly himself, becoming extremely protective over the Inquisitor as time goes on. Thom sends comforting looks when he cannot come over right away, spending late nights listening to their cries as he reminds them that Solas didn’t just trick them; he tricked everyone. Sometimes he finds himself in the stables, taking out his anger at a piece of wood as a tired sigh escapes him. The Inquisitor would need time before they could trust anyone again- especially at that paternal level. And he hated it.
Iron Bull: He has a mixed reaction for sure, initially he has clear anger on his face whenever the subject comes up; because despite it all he hates the kinda shit Solas pulled. But eventually his anger subsided, even if just for a bit; as he realized the Inquisitor didn’t need an angry person cursing at the bastard, but rather a supportive older figure. He took that role well, his soft comments of comfort being surprisingly effective, he knew how to talk people through grief.
Varric: Believe it or not, Varric is one of the calmer about the whole thing. Because he knows that while acting out is justified in this, mouthing badly about Solas could be just as harmful. He makes more jokes, sits up and tells them stories and makes sure to stay by their side. He knows how it feels to loose family- to feel betrayed by them and left behind. He knows that sometimes you don’t need to hear about how bad the person was, but rather just need a hug and a good story.
Vivienne: She never lets her rage show in front of the Inquisitor, but everyone else is extremely aware of it. She wants Solas to know what he has done, how much he has hurt a person who so obviously adored and looked up to him- if he would even care. Vivienne stays in their quarters a lot of nights, hugging their shaking form as the anxiety about it all gets too much. She won’t let this happen again if she can stop it, never.
Cole: His heart breaks, soft hugs and comforting whispers becomes common. He wants to make them forget somehow, but he knows that sometimes forgetting is a lot worse than remembering. Cole offers his help the best he can- sitting in the grass with them on the warmer days, helping the young leader distract them-self from it all.
Josephine: Nothing can stop Josephine from being a mother/big-sister figure to the Inquisitor following it all, she will spoil them if they allow her and does everything in her power to just make them laugh- even if it’s just once every now and then; it’s something. She tells them gossip sometimes, pulling out old stories about nobility messing up and takes them out to eat. But she also indulges them in a large amount of sugar intake.
Cullen: The fury of a Rutherford is not a small one, he has siblings; he knows how to comfort. The ex-templar becomes the person who suggest other activities or just sits in silence with the young leader and listens to them talk. He knows the steps of mourning and grief, especially after betrayal.
Leliana: Soft singing can be heard at times coming from the Inquisitors quarters, her hands lovingly holding their shaking form as she sings tales of heroes and their deeds in multiple languages. She will be the first to contact Clan Lavellan if the young leader has a good relationship with them and makes sure any comforting items are at the Inquisitor’s disposal should they need it.
#Cassandra Pentaghast#dorian pavus#sera#blackwall#thom rainier#iron bull#the iron bull#Varric Tethras#vivienne de fer#madame de fer#cole#josephine montilyet#lady Montilyet#cullen#cullen rutherford#leliana#dragon age#young!inquisitor#dragon age inquisition#companions reaction#dragon age reactions#advisers reaction#advisers#advisors
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hello, its nora again ( she/her, gmt ) n this is the ethereal but spoiled alma olive putnam (she goes by all 3 names cos she’s pretentious as fuck). ive never used anya taylor joy as her fc before but anya has a smile that looks like she knows something u dont and thats completely alma’s vibe so we’re gonna try it out. she was raised in a farmhouse in vermont, big horse girl energy. very hungry for everything life has to offer. wakes up and smells the success in her blood. luvs the smell of libraries and listening to french music from a tinny record player in knee socks. here is pinterest. bio is below the cut, like this post to be bombarded with plotting messages but i might forget or get shy tho so pls message me x
application template.
ANYA TAYLOR - JOY , CIS-FEMALE , SHE/HER → according to the school records , ALMA OLIVE PUTNAM has been attending sacred heart for the past three years . i last saw them hanging around the sacred heart cathedral ; i think they were studying the stations of the cross with a smile like a well - kept secret. at twenty - one years old , alma has been studying classics and get this , i heard that she has made a fortune on the black market by forging renaissance art to sell to collectors — figure it’s true ? everyone around here always associates them with neck scarves tied around your throat the way they do in french new wave films , running barefoot through the woods drunk on red wine and untapped power , a smile like a locked door that speaks only in riddles . in the time since these strange happenings , they have have encountered any unexplained occurrences . ( written by nora , 24 , she/her , gmt )
aesthetics.
a red beret nestled on top of bright platimum locks, neck scarves tied around your throat the way they do it in french new wave films, running barefoot through the woods in feckless hedonism, china dolls with porcelain faces lined against the walls of your room, the mona lisa smile, knee-socks tugged over the hockey grazes on your knees, a forged botticelli drying on your easel, ophelia floating in the middle of a lake.
proceed w caution, tw for death, drugs, alcohol, violence
the short form. (still long af tbh)
— studying classics cos she thinks it makes her sound smart, but actually hates fuckin latin and just loves learning about feckless hedonism and the festivals of bacchus and writing about how all women in myth are literally forgotten. was expelled from princeton in her first year so her parents basically paid her way into sacred heart and the board really liked her in her interview. i think the governors kind of expect to see her in the supreme court one day or st
— born in vermont in a big old farmhouse. her great-great-grandfather moved to america as an immigrant and worked on a plantation, made his way up cos he could speak a lot of languages and therefore win more people over. for the last two generations, putnam men have owned the farm and do little of the dirty work. big in the meat industry.
— both her parents had large personalities, so alma’s never really been shy around adults, even as a kid she’d speak to them in a forthright, confident manner, and because she was always surrounded by adults, she’s always seemed a bit wise beyond her years.
— very much a consolidation of every character in the secret history. has a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs. obsessed with w.h. auden and the beat poets.
— ”aestheticism is the only thing worth pursuing and even that is pointless”
— is majoring in classical civilisation. can read ancient greek and latin. also speaks french.
— studies hard and plays hard. she gets top marks but it’s because academia is literally her life, she loves the smell of libraries, the ancient smoke of learning, of feeling like old wine in a new bottle reincarnated from the bones of some old, dead witchy woman who invented a cure for cowpox or somethin.
— isn’t a foward-planner, however. alma prefers to leave her options open, play the field, live in a spontaneous manner so her study style is mostly cramming a few days before a test, or staying up all night writing an essay on a massive adrenaline boost powered by red bull or probably adderall, scribbling (or typing) furiously into the night.
— pretentious motherfucker. loves poetry, especially the romantics, loves morbid ones too, edgar allen poe, sylvia plath, allen ginsberg, she just loves them all. can’t get enough. her favourite films are like…. wanky artfilm independent european cinema. especially french new wave. “what do you think of goddard’s work??” while snorting a line off someone’s sink at 5am on a school night, but you can bet she’ll make it to that 9am class.
— very intelligent and beautiful and knows both of those facts. plays devil’s advocate. humanitarian, vegan.
— judgemental but takes great care not to appear so. petty and vindictive
— obsessively devours mystery and thriller novels. she herself is a gillian flynn book waiting to happen.
— tries to be an enigma. wants to be mysterious and unreadable because that’s what books have taught her makes women desirable and interesting and cool. very amy dunne in the way she expertly reinvents herself to suit her audience, when she wants to impress
— an incredibly talented dancer. she was accepted to juliard to study ballet, but after an injury to her foot she had to refuse her place, something that she’s incredibly bitter about. she went to princeton instead to study classics for a semester, before being expelled.
— alma comes from a family of high-end art dealers. while her parents paid her way into the school, that was mostly due to previous expulsions, not low intelligence. she’s incredibly intelligent but will only put in effort when she deems the cause worthy. she’s frustrating to teach, because she requires evidence, truth, in order to accept something as worthwhile. she plays devil’s advocate, but academically she’s brilliant.
— she can recognise any renaissance artist just by their brush strokes. her aunt and uncle deal antiques and art, and from an internship with them after her expulsion from princeton, she learned how to market and sell art, how to recognise originals in contrast to fakes. from this, alma began to produce counterfeit art and sell it off as the original work to the contacts she had made in her internship. it’s disloyal, but it’s powerful.
— act like the flower but be the serpent under it. is a user. manipulative. leads people on. will throw another student under the bus to demonstrate her own intelligence and integrity
— heavily involved in the theatre society. loves attention.
— has an addictive personality. seems unable to do anything in a small dose, she has to let it utterly consume her. with sports, she’s fiercely competitive, runs track, played lacrosse at school, now is a cheerleader probably. with alcohol, it’s never a shot, it’s a whole bottle – wine or whiskey – she’ll be table dancing before the night’s up and making out with someone she’ll regret in the morning.
— her clothing style is like…. vintage thrift store but make it preppy. berets and cute hats, neck scarves, large fluffy cardigans or like those leathery jackets with big suede fringes on them, mini skirts (very 70s), and knee-high socks or boots. quite often she’ll be in sports kit, maybe a cute tennis skirt, n when she’s feeling casual she’ll wear like, a talking heads tshirt with a pair of mom jeans and converse, but otherwise, the library is her catwalk.
— relates to ophelia from hamlet and sibyl vane in dorian gray. weirdly obsessed with women who commit suicide. loves jackson pollock paintings and abstract art.
– likes old things. old books, old music, old houses, it reminds her of happier times like when she wasn’t alive. buys all her music on vinyl and has a gramophone because “the sound quality is better” kfdsjj.
plots.
here are some generic wanted plots but by all means message me so we can flesh them out more if any strike ur interest:
study buddies !! someone who is equally unprepared and so spends all night in the library with alma before a big deadline, maybe they even met in the library
if they’re from new england or vermont, then cousins . second cousins / extended family / family friends – probably spat volavons on your character once as children, omg childhood friends !
honestly someone who is fully in love with her or crushing on her that she can just break would be sweet :/ or on the other hand someone she unexpectedly gets feelings for and actually wants to guage her own eyeballs out bc of it
frinds !! unlikely friends !! toxic friends !! former best friends separated by sporting or academic rivalries !
hockey / cheer friends who are on other teams but who she absolutely loves playin against!!!
fellow academics who like meeting up to discuss latin and greek ! gimme a secret society bonding by their love of ancient learning
i reckon she’s in a lot of societies, definitely the film club, maybe works as a projectionist at the uni cinema if they have one so give me ppl affiliated with that, give me fellow wanky pretentious art-lovers and poets and historians who will go to museums and galleries with her and listen to the velvet underground on vinyl
people she gets mortally fucked off her tits with at parties
people who think she is throwing her academic potential away by caving to hedonistic impulse
a secret society !!! honestly i would die for a slug club esque thing in which the children of notable families are invited to dinners or alma’s also an art forger, so maybe like a club of students set up to basically forge paintings and documents from the university special collections
people she has drunkenly made out with, hooked up with, or regularly sleeps with casually, maybe even a friend w benefits she is repressing feelings for, i love angst,
people she used to date or unrequitedly likes, but to them it’s just a physical thing, give me all the thirsty angst plots, and maybe some softness too, i need some religion in this girls life, she is a roman catholic after all
full biography.
alma olive putnam.
intro.
the girl is a knife. razor-sharp, double-edged, the bright shine of a two-faced, lovely thing. silver like the secrets you magpie thief from other heads. you’re a scavenger of knowledge, of tidbits, of gossip to lock away for later use and late-night re-inspection. a mind is like a clock if you get to learn the pieces. bit by bit, you dismantle the inner workings of the brains that tick around you – how easy it is to change it’s path, how words and their meanings can make a person laugh or cry in an instant. to have the power to control that is to be a god. it’s the power trip you crave wielding pom-poms in your hands; a possessive need for control that a younger you, small and weak, never had as a child. small lips, smaller smile, a doll clutched in your too-hungry fingers, hard enough to shatter the bones of a real infant. you cut your hair with your mother’s kitchen scissors before the autumn falls, rendering you out of season, unfit for the cold weather that beats against the nape of your neck, where a stick-and-poke marks the star you were born under ; the bull. “mama, when will i be a queen?” as soon as they find a crown small enough not to slip from your head.
biography.
if you get hungry enough, they say, you start eating your own heart. hands red, stained by pomegranate seeds, the empty pulp of its shell splattered on your thighs you find yourself wondering – what would it be like to want? in the beginning, you never knew hunger. twins, born under the same star, you first, him second – a nuclear family. never a sister to compete with, you were always the cherry pie of your parents’ hearts. white-haired, blue-eyed, beautiful baby of mine. the townhouse in vermont and the summer house in lyon, you wanted for nought, showered with attention, saddled with gifts - hardly a wonder you came to rely on such affection as a confirmation of your own worth.
at eight years old you first met death, blood on a gingham-print dress, a smear of it over your cheekbone and the pulp of a mangled animal at your feet murdered by the hands of a stable boy. “alma, my precious baby, you get away from that filth,” your mama would cry from the upstairs balcony – cigar in one hand and a bloody mary in the other – though whether the filth she referred to was the dead pig or the boy with a kernel of corn in his mouth, you never did find out.
your family earned their keeps in farming, great-grandfather wolfgang hildegarde a german immigrant, great-grandmother maura lisbon a prairie girl. they fell hopelessly in love between troughs and pig-shit, working for three dollars a day at a farm their descendants would later own, trade deals with the indians, vacations to calcutta, your father todd putnam in the kind of sheepskin coat his father’s father could only dream of owning. he worked hard so that you’d never have to. your mama once asked – you heard it through the window, rounding cartwheels across the picket-fenced lawn – could he not find a respectable career rather than selling shrink-wrapped pork for a dime a dozen? that blood money had no business raising a child. you look far back enough, edie, your father had said in his low, strong voice that could bring a civil war to silence, and i think you’ll find that all money is blood money.
language was never fickle on your tongue, french dinner time talk by the time you were out of your hush puppy shoes, your mama fixing the au pair a smile as she fixed herself another martini. you learned the clarinet at four and how to dance with the grace of a swansong at six, ethereal under a spotlight, an audience captive in the palm of your hand. by eight you knew that you’d always been destined to be loved. loved so hard they would want to taste you, bite into the soft plump of your cheek and eat you alive. that was how magnetic you wanted to feel. but mother hamsters eat their own young when penned in together too long, and soon you became too wild, too restless, another package on your father’s delivery invoice, box-shipped out to english boarding school.
fitting in had never been something you had to concern yourself with. you were always the shiny new toy the other girls wanted to play with, bright like a dropped coin from a magpie’s beak. wherever you went, you seemed to leave a trail of awe, pig-tailed harriet’s adoring you, imitating you, teachers forgiving your class-time chatter for the sake of your wild heart and the restless spirit you possessed. tell us what it’s like in the states, alma. they’d coo, enamoured by your hollywood drawl. does your father own a gun? you hardly knew. barely even knew the colour of his hair, for the scarce amount of times he’d stoop to kiss your cheek, though you’d tell silver-tongued tales if it’d guaranteed you an audience. when you learned how to smile at the right times, and that flattery would get you everywhere, it soon became apparent that charm would pave the yellow brick road to success even when your lack of drive couldn’t.
the road you followed – gum-snapping, roller-blading, friendship bands all up your arm – eventually led you to sacred heart. bright-eyed and gingham skirted, you’d always known you were more. there was a hunger in you to be something extraordinary, a want so adamant to be imagined and desired that it was almost savage. in leather-bound volumes and a circle of stones, you were helen of troy, the girl for whom they’d launch a thousand ships. but there’s so much rage within you, collecting like sawdust in cavernous parts. hockey helped. there was something grounding about the feeling of a stick clasped in your hands. sweat. stiff knuckles. feet pounding the earth. the smash of wood against flesh in the scram of a game, passed off as mere enthusiasm. “slipped, sorry.” hockey is the one thing you had that was yours alone – a feral instinct that motivates you to play; something primitive within you that sparks an energy like no other. on the pitch, you feel alive. you feel like a god.
#heretics:intro#heretics:ooc#my two most pretentious characters ive ever written n i bring em both here . we love to see it.
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4-6 adelheid & anders, 11-13 cedany & alistair, 5, 3, 7, 8 athleanis & dorian & iron bull
ask me abt my kids and their kids
im rly sorry to the dash bcos ive been trying to put this under a read-more for ages and tumblr literally isnt having it, and it’s long
adelheid hawke & anders:
4. who is more protective? or overprotective?
oh delly to both. she’s overprotective of everyone important in her life; if anything went wrong for little posy, delly’s immediately the one trying to resolve it w a lot of passion and anger. u dont want to bully posy hawke
5. what language they speak to the baby? do they title their child "young man" or "young lady", or do the typical baby-talk?
i think they both do the typical baby-talk??? anders calls posy ‘little lady’ quite a bit, and he plays off the fact that she’s technically the heir to house amell all the time. delly calls her ‘sweetling’ tho
6. do they buy the child every toy it desires? or do they not spoil their child?
anders spoils posy. delly...... says she doesn’t. she’s a big liar, tho; she doesn’t spoil her to the same extent that anders does, but she does spoil her. she brings her lots of dolls and stuff
cedany amell & alistair theirin:
11. who reads bedtime stories?
god cedany would be an awful mom, so definitely alistair. he’d do all the voices, too. probably tickle them while he does it. cedany might sit in and listen, maybe fuck around w him a bit, tease the kid, but that’d be it
12. who picks out outfits for kindergarten for the kid?
if cedany could be bothered to, it’s her. i think she’d enjoy having someone to dress up a bit. they’d all be very fashionable pretty outfits, no matter the gender; truly i think ced’d treat the kid like a doll or a playmate more than her own child lmao
13. who makes the child be more self-dependant and who makes everything for the kid?
alistair would do everything for the kid, probably, but he would also try to encourage independence. cedany would encourage independence just bcos she would be so useless; she wouldn’t know how to look after the kid herself
athleanis lavellan, dorian pavus, the iron bull:
5. what language they speak to the baby? do they title their child "young man" or "young lady", or do the typical baby-talk?
BULL WOULD CALL THEM ‘YOUNG MAN’ OR ‘YOUNG LADY’ ALL THE TIME. he would use a lot of qunlat around the kid too tho. this isnt part of the question but he’d swing that kid up onto his shoulders and horns all the time. bull would be such a good dad gbye
dorian tries not to do baby talk, bcos he thinks he’s too dignified for that, but he falls into the trap all the time. in the beginning, bull and ath used to tease him abt it; usually now they’ll sorta just share a look and smile and roll their eyes when he’s babying the kid
ath would call them da’vhenan all the time. he speaks a lot of elven around that kid; he wants to share his culture !!!!!!! truly this kid would have the weirdest culture growing up, and would also speak so many languages, bcos probably once bull and ath start teaching them their respective languages, dorian’s like well now I WANT TO TEACH HIM OLD TEVENE
3. whose name (or designation, like "mom" or "dad") is the child's first word? bonus points for gay couples, where both parents can be ecstatic, when baby says "dad". bonus point #2 if the child says something random as the first word, like "frog".
probably they would start saying ‘da’ and all three of their parents would be :0000 but then it turns out they’re trying to repeat ‘da’vhenan’, it’s just too big a word for a lil baby. ath is still smug abt it tho
7. are they immune to temper tantrums the child throws, e.g. when they dont want to buy them a toy in supermarket?
dorian & bull are both immune. ath is not; the baby has ath wrapped around its little finger, bcos it’s ath. dorian and bull are trying to teach him to have more of a backbone tho, bcos really amatus, getting outplayed by a two year old is just embarrassing
8. who is more likely to make ice cream for breakfast?
ath, probably. i subscribe to that theory that the dalish have ice cream, so he’d know how to make it. also ath doesn’t rly know how to cook anything practical; he has his head in the clouds. dorian doesnt cook, he gets his servants to; i’m not sure that bull would let the kid have something so unhealthy for breakfast ?????????
#evnuris#answered#ch: adelheid hawke#ch: cedany amell#ch: athleanis lavellan#tysm for asking nysa !!!!!#no one knows abt ath and bull and dori lmAO thanks for letting me talk abt them#how did the read-more end up in the question ??? well thats on tumblr babie
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Fictober 2019 - Day 1
A little late in posting today, but here is Day 1 - Trust me, it will be fun!
Fanfiction - Dragon Age
AO3 Link
~~~~~
“Kylara?” I heard knocking on our bathroom door. “You can’t hide in there forever! I can pick the lock, you know!”
I groaned, knowing my roommate, Leliana was all too serious. The last time she’d been caught, she got fined for breaking school property. It still didn’t stop her though… “All right! I’m coming out now!” I looked at my reflection and thought, I look ridiculous!
I opened the door, just as Leli was pulling out her picks. She gasped in surprise. “Oh, you look so pretty!!” She grabbed my hand and pulled me into the bedroom of our dorm. “Now go on and put on the rest of your costume! You’ve already made us a half-hour late!”
“I still don’t know why you are making me go to this Halloween party. I don’t know anyone there!”
“Which is why you need to go, Kylara! You need to get out more! Socialize!” Leli stood there in her sparkling black cat costume and frowned a bit. “I will not let you sequester yourself in the library or the dorm room for the entire year! College is about having fun!”
“College is about working hard, getting good grades, and hopefully a meaningful career,” I countered. “Especially when you are on a scholarship like I am.”
“That doesn’t mean you need to stay cooped up all the time! Come on now, it will be fun, trust me!”
I sighed as I pulled on the silly mouse costume she had bought me. I am going to look so stupid in this… “The Theirin’s are the ones hosting! I bet there will be nothing but a bunch of rich kids with bank accounts bursting at the seams. I won’t know anyone there!”
Leliana came over and put her hand on my arm. “This isn’t some high-end social gathering by Maric or Cailan. Alistair is hosting this party. Also, you know me, and that guy you know from your science class… Cullen? He’ll be there. Morrigan is also going.”
“The goth girl from your poetry club?” I asked, curious. “Why would she even consider going to such a soiree?”
Leli giggled. “She said she was curious about how the other half lived.”
“I’m sure that isn’t her real reason.”
“Probably not, but it’s what she told me. Actually, I think she knows someone who might be there and she was hoping to meet him.”
“Who?”
“The bass player in Alistair’s band.” she replied.
“With all the money his family has – and their precious reputation – you’d think they wouldn’t let him have such a hobby… or host wild parties.”
Leli shrugged. “He’s always been the black sheep of the family and was only recently ‘brought back into the fold’, from what I’ve heard. So I guess as long as he doesn’t do anything to embarrass them…”
I tried to think back on what little I knew of the Theirins. Maric was the CEO of a huge business here in Denerim. His wife had died some years ago and his legitimate son, Cailan, was already vice-president of the firm. The scandal of the family was that shortly before his wife had died, Maric had had an affair. That was where the second son, Alistair, fit in. Initially, Alistair had been sent off to live with some distant relatives, but now that he was in his third year here at Denerim University (and doing really well), Maric had apparently decided to claim Alistair as his actual son. There was probably more to the story, but I didn’t thrive on social gossip like so many others in my classes.
All I knew was that just about every female (and some males) around the campus gushed about how handsome Alistair was and how they were going to do everything in their power to get him to notice them… now that Cailan was engaged to some high-end socialite. Stupid of them, really. Last I heard, Alistair was heavily involved with another wealthy girl, Ellie Cousland, I think? Who cares… I am here at this school to focus on my education… not play games to win the affections of some spoiled rich brat.
I sighed again. “Just promise me you won’t leave me alone… and we won’t stay for long, all right, Leli?” I looked at myself in the floor-length mirror in the room. The mouse costume was tight and hugged every curve on my somewhat voluptuous body. The glittery, grey makeup on my face brought out the blue in my eyes (so Leli said), but it also forced me to wear my contacts rather than my glasses. I hated the contacts… they made my eyes feel dry.
“Don’t forget your cheese, little mouse!” Leliana laughed and handed me the stuffed cheese plush.
I rolled my eyes. “You know, mice don’t really eat cheese.”
“Tell that to anyone who has ever watched classic cat and mouse cartoons. Now come on! We are already so late! Let’s go!”
We arrived at a really large gated community on the outskirts of the city. Cars were parked all up and down the streets. Leliana found a spot on a side street about three blocks from the house where the party was being held.
The party was already in full swing by the time we got there. Despite my telling her to not leave me by myself, Leliana was greeted by several members of her poetry club, including Morrigan (who looked just as thrilled as I was to be here). They pulled her away from “the bookish nerd” (I heard one girl call me) and over to the stage where Alistair’s band was playing.
The music was obnoxiously loud, though I had to admit it did have a nice beat to it. Though I tended to prefer classical music, I still tried to keep up with what was popular on campus. I knew Alistair’s band, The Griffons, were quite the rage. I even knew who was who on stage. Fenris was the bassist. He was a broody elf with odd glowing tattoos on his brown skin. So that is who Morrigan likes, hmm? Interesting. The drummer was a huge qunari who went by the moniker of “The Iron Bull” on campus. With the pair of massive horns on his head, I could see why. The keyboardist was a guy I had only heard about from others. I only knew his name was Dorian and that he was originally from Tevinter. The second guitarist was named Anders and while he was quite the looker, he paled in comparison to the frontman.
I had seen pictures of Alistair in the school newspaper and in social gossip magazines at the store, but seeing him in person for the first time was quite a different experience.
I can see why women fall for him… I thought. He is very handsome. Under the lights of the stage, it was difficult to tell the true shade of his hair, but it seemed to be a rich auburn. His dark brown eyes radiated warmth and compassion. His voice was deep and melodious… it gave me chills as I heard him sing.
“Hey Kylara! Good to see you!” I heard a man shout next to me. I turned to see Cullen, who was dressed as a lion. He handed me a beer and I thanked him.
I nodded. “I have never heard him live… Leliana has some of his CDs, but it isn’t the same.”
“He is pretty amazing. I’ve known him for quite a while,” Cullen spoke loud so I could hear him.
“Really?”
“Sure! I can introduce you if you want to meet him.”
“Why would I? He’s handsome and popular… not exactly the kind of guy who’d be interested in someone like me.”
Cullen seemed surprised. “You never struck me as someone who judges others at first appearance, ‘Lara.”
I blushed (though it probably didn’t show through the makeup on my face). “I-I’m not… I mean… I’m sorry. You’re right, Cullen. But still, why should I meet him? Isn’t he already dating someone?”
“He broke up with her last night.” Cullen said. “Turns out she was cheating on him.”
“Oh, that’s terrible.” I could hear the song was nearing its end. “But again, Cullen. Why should I meet him? What do you think he’d see in someone like me?”
“Al is a real friendly guy… and he loves having people around him. However, it is always the same kind of people. I know he’s been getting really bored of it all. You, Kylara, are a sweet, quiet girl. You are smart and not at all like the women who throw themselves at his feet. I think Al might find that a bit refreshing.” The song finished just then and Alistair told the crowd he was going to take a ten-minute break. “Come on,” Cullen said and took my free hand. I put the beer down and grabbed my cheese plush. “Let’s go.”
Cullen pulled me through the crowd towards the stage so quickly that I didn’t see the large clown shoes in front of me until it was too late. I fell to the floor with a crash. People all around me started laughing… hard. Mortified, I got up and before Cullen could say anything, I quickly ran out a side door and out into the back yard.
I don’t know how long I was out there, but the cool autumn air was beginning to give me goosebumps. I had contemplated just going back to Leliana’s car, but I couldn’t remember where she had parked. So in the end, I sat out in the yard on an old swing someone had left tied to a huge tree.
Just then I heard footsteps behind me. A soft, but deep voice asked with concern, “Are you all right?”
I turned in the swing, twisting the rope, to see who had spoken. To my utter shock, it was Alistair! I quickly turned the swing back around as my face heated up. Cullen must have told him what happened! I suppose he needs to know if I am okay… so there are no lawsuits to sully the Theirin name. “I’m fine,” I mumbled. “I… just want to be alo- ” The old rope holding the swing chose that very moment to snap and for the second time that night, I fell to the ground. I wanted to cry, I was so humiliated.
Alistair knelt down and offered me his hand. “Please, let me help you up.”
At first, I just wanted to shout that I was fine and for him to leave me alone, but then I noticed his eyes were not haughty, but genuinely concerned. I gingerly gave him my hand and with a strong pull, he helped me to my feet.
“Are you hurt?” he then asked.
I sighed. “Only my dignity.”
Alistair smiled. “Well, I suppose that is good to hear. I hear dignity is easy to fix… if you know the right people.” He then leaned close and whispered, “I heard they even sell it in the back alleys of Orzammar sometimes…”
I couldn’t help it, I snickered.
“See now, that’s much better. A pretty smile from a pretty woman.” Alistair smiled and then asked, “So, what is your name?”
“Kylara.”
“Well, Kylara, it is very nice to meet you. I really like your costume, by the way.”
“Really? Why?”
He held out the cheese plush I had dropped earlier. “Well, for one, I do have a certain minor obsession with cheese…”
#fictober19#no trigger warnings this chapter#Dragon Age#halloween party#friends#introductions#alternate universe#modern thedas
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Tell us about your DA characters!!!!
aa thank you! I’ll put it under a read more so it doesn’t take up too much space, and fair warning...it’s pretty long.
Tldr i have Feynhel and Pirras Lavellan, Selanz Adaar, Luelle and Hayden deLoriot- Camriel, and Tenar Brosca. I dont have any canon hawkes yet bc i haven’t gotten to play da2 and i wanna wait till i can to do that asdfas
First there’s Feynhel Lavellan, my most developed da character; he went through a backstory overhaul within the last year or two! When Inquisition starts he’s around 27, and he’d show up at Haven to be a companion pretty soon after the start of the game. He’s a gay trans man, and usually he ends up with either Pirras or Dorian(though if he were an actual companion he’d be open to romance by any male inquisitor). that’s a whole other subject entirely though that should probably be a post of it own lmao
He was born in Orlais and left his family there to go join his father’s Dalish clan (Lavellan) when he was around 12. It was a fresh start he dearly needed considering his history with his mother. He’s a mage but had no interest in being First despite being very gifted with his magic, instead he was content to learn the basics and try to help out around the clan where needed. He apprenticed under the Clan’s craftmaster (Pirras’s father) and helped out the Hunters on occasion. Feyn’s father Thelras is a hunter and his stepmom, Shi’thra is a scout. He also has a younger brother named Cyrris, who’s now about 14 when Inquisition starts.
A big defining moment for him was when he was around 14/15 and had a close call with some Templars who wandered too close to where he was gathering craft supplies. He survived the encounter just barely, but since one of the Templars managed to retreat it made him paranoid of the possibility of being tracked. It’s part of the reason why he agreed to study under the Traveling Keeper who came to his clan looking for an apprentice some years later. He left for that when he was around 18/19 and has been away from his clan for most of the time after that, save for when he checks up with them in accordance to his duties.
He takes his duties very seriously and has explored quite a few ruins in search of knowledge. He’s friendly with many and has quite a number of friends in the clans he’s visited across Thedas, as well as contacts outside of the clans. He loves to tell stories about the places he has visited and things he’s seen. He also will tend to hide the fact the he’s a mage(and by extension a Keeper) from most people until necessary, and he prefers to use a long sword or a dagger in most combat situations. He uses it as a focus for his magic and claims he simply had the blade enchanted. Overall he has a fairly diplomatic stance about many things, but he has strong morals and is very vocal about them if confronted with situations that challenge them. He’s generally a very warm and pleasant person to be around, although he’s tired pretty much all the time because he just refuses to sleep until he absolutely has to. I love him very much...
After him there’s my current/consequential Inquisitor, Pirras Lavellan. He has a lot less development but I have added a lot to him recently. When Inquisition starts he’s about 29, a couple years older than Feyn. He’s very bi, and very into Iron Bull if he and Feyn don’t get together. He’s Inquisitor only because he went to the conclave with Feyn and a small party of other Dalish scouts, but got too impatient and went ahead before everyone else.
Pirras’ whole arc is about him growing out of his previously childish and arrogant behavior. It takes him until the end of Inquisition though and its pretty back and forth. He has a natural feel for magic and out of other apprentices he was pretty much a shoe-in for First. Family-wise, it’s been just him and his father Tala’ren since he was young, since his older brother(a mage) and mother were lost to Templars when returning from visiting another clan. After that he was fairly withdrawn even when his magic manifested. It wasn’t until Feyn showed up and tried to befriend him that he really opened up and became more outgoing. Pirras was constantly(and still does) treat everything like a competition and feels the need to try to impress everyone, especially Feyn. (despite Feyn telling him numerous times he doesn’t need to)
Shortly before Feyn left and Pirras became First, he went into the forest to try and prove how ready he was and promptly got his ass handed to him by a bear that had been giving the clan’s hunters trouble. He barely made it by virtue of Feyn and another hunter showing up, only because Feyn and Tala’ren had an idea he might do something foolish. Up till and even after then he was fairly sheltered about life outside the clan, never having ventured to speak to humans when the clan traded largely due to his own strong dislike of them.
The events of Inquisition were a pretty big shock to him and he grows a lot and learns much more about responsibility than he did in the clan. Though he’s certainly eager to return to the clan after Corypheus is defeated. Pirras and Feyn have a..complicated on and off relationship that really needs more space than this to talk abt lol.
Aside from those two we have my other Inquisitor, Selanz Adaar, who I haven’t really worked on in a long time. She’s 25 at the start of Inquisition, and fresh off her parent’s farm in Ferelden, only having done mercenary work for a couple of years when she heads to the conclave.
She’s a dual-wield rogue, and one of her moms is a former Saarebas. Selanz is smart and cheerful and always ready for more action. She becomes fast friends with Sera, and most of the other companions(Sera and Selanz end up getting married in Trespasser and she later joins the Red Jennies.) She’s really intrigued by history and lore, and spends a lot of time in either the library going through all the books, or the garden checking on the various herbs growing since she knows her way around plants. As i said she isn’t nearly as developed as some others, but i should do another playthrough with her and fix that,,,
After that there’s Luelle and Hayden du Loriot-Camriel. Luelle is in their mid/late thirties, nonbinary(genderfluid they/she) and pan. Hayden is 25/26, a trans man and is bi.They’re both mages, Luelle trained as a Knight Enchanter and Hayden is a Spirit Healer.I’m toying with the idea of Luelle becoming my new HOF so their story is likely to change.
Luelle and Hayden are half-siblings, sharing the same human father of a minor noble house, while Hayden’s mother is actually a mistress. Though since both Luelle and Hayden’s mothers were quite close Hayden and his mother were allowed to live on the estate. Luelle was very protective of Hayden growing up, and still is currently, and Hayden feels the same way.
Luelle’s magic manifested when she was around 14 and at a very bad time. Her elder sibling and Heir to the house had a number of bad habits, one of which included being particularly shitty to Luelle, a number of the servants, and even their parents. It was really a long time coming, but after a particular instance Luelle’s anger bubbled up and the magic just manifesting reacted to it in an explosive manner. Quite literally. The fiery explosion was so intense that it killed their sibling and burned her arm so badly it needed to be amputated. Their parents notified the Templars and after medical treatment they took Luelle to Ostwick before being transferred to the Ferelden circle(this is where it would branch to becoming HOF). At the circle she learned to control her magic very quickly under the constant watch of the Templars because she had already proven she could be dangerous. However, they were a quick learner and by the time the the events of Origins rolled around they were going to begin studying under a Knight Enchanter. In the event Luelle isn’t the HOF, they go through with their Knight Enchanter training but disappear
Meanwhile, since Luelle was a mage Hayden was left as the only heir. He didn’t want to be the heir but he took it in stride and was pretty spoiled, though he turned out very kind. He was upset with his father for sending Luelle so far away and not even telling him where,though he never actually brought it up and didn’t fully understand why it was such a bad thing that she was a mage. In secret, between his studies in the library he had actually been obtaining and reading books on magic. His magic manifested in a much more subtle way than Luelle’s did, he awoke one night to find his sheets had frozen where he was gripping them after a dream. He was able to keep his abilities a secret for a few months as he tried to learn more about controlling them from his books. His father found out on accident one day during dinner, where their mabari spooked him and he froze his glass.
In contrast to Luelle’s situation, their parents were now desperate to keep some sort of heir. Instead of informing the Templars, Hayden’s father sought to hire an apostate tutor in secret, despite Hayden’s own desire to learn in a Circle(with the goal of finding out which circle Luelle had been sent to). Before his father could find an apostate to hire, Hayden simply packed up and left in the middle of the night to find Templars to take him to a circle. He was around 12, and like Luelle he learned very quickly and had a strong desire to become a healer. He became a capable spirit healer about 3-4 years before Inquisition starts, and if he joins the Inquisition as a healer after being contacted near the Crossroads in Ferelden while accompanying a group of mages and tranquil in aiding refugees from the fighting.
Then theres my main Hero of Ferelden, Tenar Brosca. He’s a two-handed warrior and Berserker specialization. He’s trans and bi bc i say so, and romanced either Zevran or Alistair.(i did playthrough for each and couldn’t,,,decide which i liked more) He is sort of morally questionable with a dark sense of humor(him and Morrigan get along rlly well), but from exposure to his companions he’s grown a bit and is trying to be a better person. He doesn’t have nearly as much to his backstory bc i haven’t really messed w him in a while, but he goes along with the dark ritual with Morrigan, and does some adventuring with Zevran before he eventually plans to help the Wardens rebuild.
There’s also a few other characters i have but for the main ones thats it sldakfj
#Anonymous#dragon age oc#da oc#feynhel lavellan#pirras lavellan#hayden camriel#luelle camriel#selanz adaar#tenar brosca#thank you for asking!! i love them all alot...
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No pressure
Cullen and Trevelyan fight to release something unspoken. What happens when that becomes not enough? a.k.a the one where everyone knows but the couple.
Maybe it's just me, but I almost never see fics of Cullen pining. I thought it'd be interesting to explore that. Also I'll be loosely messing with the canon in this story. Nothing too story shattering, just a few tweaks you might notice.
If you'd like, you can go to my oc page on here and see what I envisioned Maxwell to look like. (Spoiler: he's based off my own inq lmao) just go to the oc page and Andrew Trevelyan is who I described :)
Also this is on AO3! I’m a bit paranoid with the link purge but my profile is /users/ordinarycrayons :)
Come two weeks, it will have been one year since the inquisition had been formed. Cassandra tried to argue that the inquisition was official once Trevelyan accepted his role, but he thought it was too self righteous to agree to that date.
Varric, Trevelyan’s self claimed “closest dwarf” was now standing in front of Cullen’s desk, a knowing gleam to his eye and a smirk ever present on his face.
“All I’m saying is you’re invited.”
Cullen sighed lightly. Varric has decided to celebrate the first nameday of the inquisition by holding a grand game of cards. Apparently everyone in the inner circle will be there, and then some.
“Plus,” Varric leaned in a little, smugness on his face ever present.
“Max is definitely coming.”
Cullen couldn’t help but bristle. He never thought of himself to splay his emotions out on a platter, but even before Haven’s collapse Varric took it upon himself to tease the commander for his one sided infatuation for the Inquisitor.
“Like I have told you, I will probably be busy. Thank you. I will send Maxw— the Inquisitor my regards.”
“Whatever you say, Curly. If you manage to unglue yourself from your desk, invitation’s always open.”
Varric turned on his heels out Cullen’s office and once Varric was out the room, Cullen let out a breath he did not realize he was holding.
Maxwell Trevelyan was not an enigmatic man. He wore his heart on his sleeve, heaving his opinions like he does his broadsword. He seemed to have a permanent tan to his already brown skin and dark freckles that dusted his face, accentuating an innocence that wasn’t exactly there.
Cullen would often daydream about those freckles. They complimented dimples and round cheeks, making Trevelyan look much younger than he actually was. The amount of teasing they both got when it was found out Trevelyan was the same age as Cullen still makes the blond burn in embarrassment.
His thoughts on the leader had shifted recently. What it had shifted to, though, Cullen still does not know.
Trevelyan has never called Cullen by his name, always some form of Commander. In turn, Cullen always tried to make it a point to call him the Inquisitor. Even if Cullen finds himself saying it offhand to himself, noting how easy it slides off his tongue, how it would be so gratifying to have Trevelyan grab him and make him say his name over and over and— Maker.
The Inquisitor had been gone for two weeks, something about peace talks in Orlais. He’d be back by the morning, no doubt irritable from dealing with stuck up nobles day in and day out. Cullen very much looked forward to seeing him again, much to his chagrin.
Cullen stood from his desk and paced for a moment. A slow throbbing was approaching from behind his eyes, a sign that his body was getting too tired to go on without pain.
That night, Cullen touched himself, spilling Maxwell from his lips.
He didn’t have feelings for Trevelyan, oh no. Simple infatuation. Forbidden fruit. Nothing real there, whatsoever. Truly. Hopefully.
+++
As predicted, Trevelyan was back in Skyhold by dawn. Josephine was on him the moment he stepped into the fortress, asking about how it went, who he impressed, who he more importantly pissed off. Vivienne, who attended the talks, stepped in to answer. Maxwell was brooding the moment they left Orlais and was not in the mind to answer her questions.
A random Orlesian had mentioned his father, how he was a noble who fell from grace by scandal. That scandal, being him and a servant creating Trevelyan’s half sister. Great stuff for Trevelyan’s psyche to go over several, several times.
His legs walked for him at that point. His target, Commander Cullen’s office. He knew the commander wouldn't be asleep right now, as many times as they've done this.
Something of a ritual had formed between the two. When one was upset, they would invite the other to spar. Neither has ever declined the other and it proved to be therapeutic in some primal way.
With a hard knock, Trevelyan announced himself outside the office and walked in. Unsurprisingly, Cullen was hunched over his desk, though he was still dressed in casual clothing, his armor sitting well placed next to him.
Looking up, Cullen acknowledged him.
“Good morning, Inquisitor.”
Then, the ritual begins.
Trevelyan would comment on the time of day.
“Morning, commander. Up early today I see.”
Cullen would make a comment on his work load.
“Yes, I have much to do.”
Trevelyan would proposition.
“Don’t you need a break, Commander?”
And Cullen would fall for it.
“I suppose I do. Meet you by the usual place?”
The, “usual place” was near the southern entrance of Skyhold, where only some immigrants and the merchant would see them. They use to practice by the tavern, but they eventually gained an audience. Trevelyan didn’t mind, but Cullen drew the line when he overheard Iron Bull and Dorian wondering if who wins the spar means who takes the other that night.
He didn’t tell Trevelyan the exact reason why he wanted to move, citing the noise of the crowd was distracting and if Trevelyan suspected another reason, he didn’t show it. Since then, they fought in their place. Truthfully, Cullen has several places mapped if they gained a crowd once again.
Trevelyan waited patiently by their spot. He took it upon himself to grab their usual weapons. Cullen relied on a rather large wooden shield and right handed sword. Trevelyan had his two-handed broadsword tucked into his elbow, leaning on it as he waited. Both weapons were old and dull, only able to do real damage if using blunt force.
Cullen bounded towards him ten minutes later. His lion helm was left behind, but his usual armor was donned. Trevelyan wore similar armor, though his was less stylized.
“Commander.” Trevelyan handed Cullen his sword and shield, a half smile on his face.
Cullen’s heart thumped in his chest. Their sparring use to be simple, he played as it was. But when his feelings deepened into whatever they were, their dueling fueled more. An itch he couldn’t scratch was the only way he could describe it.
He watched as Trevelyan oriented himself with the sword. It was a tad smaller than his actual battle weapon, with the hilt being a thinner leather than usual as well.
“Ready, Inquisitor?”
“Always, Commander.”
No matter what, it felt like the world disappeared when they did this. In Cullen’s mind, it was just them in this moment. No Inquisition, no reports, no worry. Just them.
The pair rounded themselves, facing the other. Cullen noted how even though Trevelyan’s brown eyes looked very tired, he still managed to create a spark behind them.
Trevelyan was the first to move, stepping to Cullen’s right side, swinging his sword. It was a test, as Trevelyan never actually made his swing come all the way down to hit Cullen’s shield. The pair locked eyes again and Trevelyan let out a breathy laugh.
“Did not expect cold feet from you, Inquisitor.”
“Simply gauging my prey.”
Prey. Cullen let out an incredulous noise and suddenly charged with his shield, catching Trevelyan off guard and knocking him back with a loud oof.
Trevelyan recovered quickly, but not before Cullen got a good jab at his rib, causing the other to groan in pain. With a well placed turn, Trevelyan brought his foot up and kicked Cullen’s shield towards the left, stuttering the commander’s reflex and bringing down a harder than intended swing to Cullen’s side. It made the commander make his own noise of pain and he gripped his side as best he could.
He knew there would be a big purple bruise there in a few hours. He couldn’t bring himself to care.
Trevelyan came at him again, his sword menacingly in front of him. Cullen blocked last minute with his shield and pushed back, staggering the man for a moment. Cullen did his best to round his own sword back to the other, but it was successfully blocked by the left metal bracer Trevelyan wore. Not missing a beat, Trevelyan awkwardly switched his sword to his non dominant right hand and clumsily hit the bottom of Cullen’s thigh.
Cullen reminded himself to warn the Inquisitor about learning to be ambidextrous with his weapons. Two-handed weapons tend to spoil those wielding them.
They pushed off each other, both slightly out of breath. Mirroring the other, they both stepped towards each other and arched their swords, the swords hitting each other with a loud metallic pang. Trevelyan pushed against Cullen and the commander pushed back, deadlocking the two into a power struggle. Cullen was close enough to Trevelyan’s face he could count the freckles on his nose. He got to twenty before a voice cleared from behind him.
Trevelyan was the first to back off and an innocent grin spread on his face.
“Are you two playing nice?”
Morrigan. Cullen whipped around and put his hands to his sides. He felt as though he had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.
“I always play nice. What isn’t nice is watching people without their knowledge.”
There was no bite to Trevelyan’s scolding.
“Oh, but I am not a nice woman. Is it a crime to watch two attractive men beat each other with sticks?”
“Ah-ha! I knew you thought I was handsome.”
“Tis’ not a secret, Maxwell. I am not the shy type.”
Before Cullen knew it, he realized the pair were… flirting?
A knot of jealousy settled in Cullen’s stomach. It made him feel hotly ashamed and a bit nauseous. He brought his hand to the bridge of his nose and pinched, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.
Trevelyan mistakenly thought it to be lyrium withdrawal pain and placed a comforting hand on Cullen’s shoulder. It made his heart beat even harder.
“As much as I enjoy this chatter, is there truly something you needed?”
When Cullen opened his eyes, he found Morrigan transfixed on him. He shifted uncomfortably under her stare.
“I was hoping to discuss The Winter Palace with you.”
Her gaze shifted between the two and settled on Cullen again, her face looking more knowing than before.
“That is, if you two are quite finished.”
Trevelyan straightened and stuck his sword into the ground. Clapping a hand on Cullen’s back, he smiled warmly at him and stepped towards Morrigan.
“I guess we’ll have to finish this later. See you later, Commander.”
Cullen watched Trevelyan and Morrigan walk off together. They started their light flirting again from what Cullen could tell and the weight in his stomach seemed to have snaked up to his chest, constricting his heart. He cleared his throat and looked down at his feet, willing the emotions to fade away. Cullen made it a point to himself to get over this crush effective immediately.
“Oh, and Commander,”
Morrigan’s voice rang out again, though she was much farther away. Cullen sheepishly looked up from his brooding thoughts.
“Shall I remind you I am not the villain here?”
Trevelyan looked between the two, settling on raising his eyebrows at Cullen. Although Trevelyan didn’t really know what Morrigan was talking about, he was surprised to see a bashful look on Cullen’s face.
+++
Cullen has not spoken to the Inquisitor since they’re last sparring. He’s not quite sure if he appreciates or hates that fact.
It’s easier to forget about his situation with Trevelyan this way, even if he misses him. Besides, it isn’t as if he is purposely avoiding the other. Trevelyan has made no attempt to talk to him. Although, that fact stings, so Cullen tries to forget that as well.
Varric’s celebration is tonight. Cullen made no plans to go up until earlier today. After a rather tedious war meeting, Leliana stopped Cullen to talk to him alone in the hallway out. Once again, Trevelyan made no attempt to talk to him and it grated on his nerves more than it should have. Them standing in the cramped space between the main hall and Josephine’s office did not help his growing nerves.
“Is there something I can help you with?”
Cullen’s voice sounded strained even to his own ears, causing him to briefly wince.
“You are going to the celebration tonight.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You think I do not know of what is going on between you and the inquisitor?”
Cullen blinked and felt the tip of ears grow hot.
“I do not know what—”
“Do not lie to me, Commander.”
“...there is nothing unprofessional between me and the Inquisitor. I say that truly.”
Leliana’s eyes were piercing, as if she was trying to read his mind. Cullen would never admit he wouldn’t be surprised if she could.
“That is precisely the problem.”
Cullen stepped back and hit his back against the brick wall. He’s sure if he saw his face it would show a look of complete and utter confusion. “Are you suggesting me and the Inquisitor start some illicit affair?”
“If I thought it would just be a some dirty affair, I wouldn’t be standing here.”
“Then I am at a loss as to what you are suggesting.”
The woman shifted her weight to her left foot and crossed her arms. A ghost of a smirk was on her face.
“I know love when I see it, Commander. It is something to be cherished. The Maker made us this way to embrace love, not run away from it. Do you not understand that?”
Cullen’s heart started thudding against his chest and he instinctively rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn’t meet Leliana’s eyes even if he wanted to.
“It is not mutual.”
The smirk widened on Leliana’s face. “Because you have been rejected, or because you refuse to consider it’s possibility?”
Cullen had no answer. He had not even entertained the thought that the Inquisitor might feel the same way. Trevelyan had made no moves, had he? Belatedly, Cullen realized he and the Inquisitor spent the most time together out of everyone in the inner circle. Trevelyan is the one whom Cullen bared his deepest struggles to, and Trevelyan was the only one to take the time to comfort him, tell him how proud he was of Cullen. While Cullen wasn’t as eloquent as Trevelyan when it came to praise and feelings, when he did do the same to Trevelyan he could swear he saw a blush come to the warrior’s cheeks. It all came naturally, and Cullen kicked himself for being so hung up on their names.
Leliana spoke again. “Are you coming to the celebration?”
Cullen steadied himself on his sword, gripping the handle hard. He tried not to get his hopes up.
“Yes.”
+++
The tavern was bustling. It seemed as though everyone in skyhold had stuffed themselves in there, from the chargers drunkenly guarding their corner of the bottom floor to even Vivienne chatting idly to Dorian and Solas, all three drinking some expensive wine Varric managed to get his hands on.
Trevelyan was drinking a tankard of beer with Blackwall, Cassandra, and Varric. Their conversation devolved the more the night went on. While he didn’t drink that much, Trevelyan saw his companions get more and more inebriated. By the time Varric managed to round up the inner circle for their wicked grace game, Sera was asleep on the floor and Bull was so loud it was starting to make Trevelyan’s ears ring.
“And THEN, and then, oh shit boss you’re gonna love this one, and then he went, ‘But I barely knew her!’” The table erupted in incredulous laughter and a solid eye roll from Cassandra. Trevelyan tried to hide his laugh behind his drink, clapping Bull on the back for his story. Naturally, the conversations went on. His hand in the card game wasn’t great, but he didn’t really mind. It felt good to celebrate something amongst the string of tragedies he has to deal with.
Varric sat next to him, the two occasionally sizing each other up. Josephine was the best at the game, but Varric could bluff like nobody’s business. It gave Trevelyan a sense of confidence being around him when playing wicked grace. It wasn’t until he jabbed Trevelyan in the ribs with his elbow did he get his head out of the game. He nodded his head towards the entrance of the tavern and Trevelyan’s eyes landed on the blond that was making his way through the door.
Cullen walked towards the table but stopped just short of it. Varric stood up and waved the commander over.
“Glad you made it Curly, saved a seat for you.”
Trevelyan looked wide eyed at Varric who shot back a wink. He went off to drag another chair to the table, leaving Cullen to sit down next to the inquisitor.
Cullen’s entrance didn’t stop the flow of conversation, but Leliana, who was leaning against one of the support beams in the tavern threw Cullen a look. She turned to whisper something to Cassandra who was some steps away. Cassandra not so subtly glanced at the pair with raised eyebrows. Both Cullen and Trevelyan looked elsewhere to avoid the questioning eyes.
“I… guess I have arrived too late for the game.”
“Don’t worry, there will be plenty more rounds. Lest we forget your last game.”
Cullen smiled at Trevelyan despite the embarrassing memory. “Ah, I do not plan on losing my clothing tonight, though.”
Trevelyan perked up at Cullen with newfound confidence. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”
Something told Cullen they might not be talking about the game anymore and he looked away shyly. He never knew what to do in these situations. Especially since this is the first time in many years he wanted their affections in the first place.
“S-so, uh, I feel as though we have not seen each other in a while.”
Trevelyan deflated at that and Cullen recoiled slightly wondering if he said the wrong thing. Thankfully, Trevelyan continued on the conversation. “Why is it always I who seeks you out? You’re free to come to me for a change, you know.”
A hardened tone took over Trevelyan but he still tried to mask it with a forced lightness. Cullen felt the guilt wash over in a wave. He had never thought about that. For the past year, it had always been Trevelyan who progressed their friendship. It hit Cullen that even if he had feelings for Cullen, Cullen was not showing any signs himself that it could go anywhere. Tonight felt like it was a turning point in their friendship— or what it could be.
“I came tonight. I… hope that is a sufficient start.”
“You act as if you came to the party only for me.”
It was invitation to go further, Cullen saw it clear as day. Trevelyan was baiting him to go farther, and he knew he would always go for his game.
Cullen acknowledged him.
“Perhaps… perhaps I did.”
Trevelyan craned his seat to look out a window at the far side of the wall to their left.
“It’s getting quite late, Cullen.”
Cullen’s eyes widened and he could feel his pulse thud in his ears. He wanted to ask Trevelyan to say his name again, over and over. It was by far the only sound Cullen wanted to hear from then on. He had half a mind to ask him to say it again before he remembered what he was doing.
“Yes, I finished my reports early.”
Trevelyan prepositioned.
“Well, I’m sure you deserve a long break.”
And Cullen falls for it. Every time.
“What do you suggest we do, Maxwell?”
The grin that split onto Trevelyan’s face was unfiltered excitement and it made Cullen mirror one of his own.
“Walk me to my quarters? It is just so late.”
“Of course, dear inquisitor.”
+++
Cullen had never been in Maxwell’s quarter’s since it was being built in the first place. It awed him how much of Maxwell emanated from the room since he last saw it. The Orlesian linens had been replaced by woolly blankets and fluffy pillows that looked perfect for winter. The couch, desk, and bookshelves were all the same but had been covered by different memorabilia Maxwell had collected over the past many months. His desk especially was cluttered with dozens of half written missives and reports. Cullen wonders how he manages to get anything done with the mess in the way. Incense sits in the air as well, a mix of cherrywood and lavender. It relaxed both of them greatly.
Behind him Maxwell stokes a fire he lit. It was late fall and a chill had comfortably settled over skyhold.
When the fire seemed to be going full force Maxwell stood. He and Cullen shared a brief moment of eye content before they both looked away nervously. Maxwell admittedly didn't think this far into this, considering he didn’t even think Cullen would accept the offer to walk him to his room.
“I like your quarters.” Cullen blurted out after a beat of awkward silence.
“Do you?”
“Yes, I now know why you smell so good.” He faltered at the tail end of that sentence. Cullen inwardly smacked himself. You smell so good? Maker, Cullen, you’re bad at this.
Maxwell laughed behind his hand, “Thank you. I’m glad my… smell? Pleases you.”
Cullen hoped his face didn’t seem to red, but just in case he looked down at his boots to hide at least some of the embarrassment.
Maxwell walked towards an empty loveseat that was in the corner of his room and pushed it towards the fire that crackled noisily. He sat down casually and patted the spot next to him, beckoning Cullen who obliged readily.
“I’m glad you agreed to come with me to my quarters. I’ve… admittedly missed you. And I’ve been wanting to speak about something.”
This time it was Maxwell looking down at his feet. Cullen wanted to reach out and hug him.
“What did you want to speak of?”
Maxwell took a deep breath and looked up, but not at Cullen. “Cullen, I care for you, more than what I’ve let on and I—” He shook his head and tried to gather his words.
“I don’t— I don’t know where I’m going with this. I just want to know if you could care for me as I care for you.”
Cullen felt his mouth dry and he swallowed thickly. He tried to bring up words but nothing seemed to do justice.
“I could. I-I mean I do. I’ve… often wondered what I might say in this situation.” Cullen’s voice wavered a tad but he continued, “I didn’t think it was possible for there to be something, much less admit to it.”
“Now that it is possible, what do you intend to do?”
Maxwell was looking at Cullen now, the pair meeting each other’s eyes. Cullen shifted closer to Maxwell and started to slowly lean into the other’s space, closing his eyes and hoping he’s met with what he wants.
With a sharp intake of breath, Maxwell met Cullen halfway and kissed him.
Cullen had imagined this a dozen times, in a dozen different ways. He knows it’s cliche to say it is like no other, but he can not remember a time where something as simple as a kiss filled him such an indescribable joy.
They seperated momentarily, looking into each other’s eyes with a newfound ferocity. Cullen grabbed Maxwell by his collar and pulled him back into the kiss, their mouths naturally falling open to explore the other. Maxwell tangled his left hand into Cullen’s hair and moved to straddle his lap, his other hand finding itself on the other’s waist.
It stirred something familiarly warm deep in Cullen’s belly, causing him to involuntarily moan. He could feel Maxwell smile into the kiss and it caused him to smile back, effectively ruining the kiss they had going. It devolved into a fit of shy giggles and chaste face kisses between the two.
“I can’t remember the last time I was into another man’s lap.”
Cullen pressed several kisses along Maxwell’s jaw and neck, causing the other to crane his neck back for better access. A passing thought wished Cullen would divulge in as many love bites as he could.
“If I get what I want, I’ll be the last lap you’re in.”
Maxwell meant to softly put their foreheads together but misjudged the force of it and thonked their heads together, causing another bout of breathy laughter.
“Whatever you want, I’ll grant it.”
Maxwell brought his hips closer to Cullen’s and ghosted contact. In retaliation Cullen settled his hands on Maxwell’s hips and brought them together himself, the hard grind bringing groans out of both of them.
Their lips connected again, the kiss hard and wet. They fell into a slow rhythm, grinding until they were both hard and desperate against each other.
“Grant me a spot on your bed?”
Maxwell smiled crookedly and stood, taking Cullen’s hand in his and leading him to the bed. They kissed on their way there, unbuckling and fastening each other’s clothing the best they could until they fell on the bed in their underclothes, never separating until both needed a breath. Carefully, Maxwell made his way from Cullen’s mouth down his chest, leaving a trail of wet kisses across his torso and taking a moment to lavish a nipple with teeth and tongue. It made Cullen’s breath hitch in his throat, stifling a kean that came with it.
Calloused hands made their way down Cullen’s soft thighs, tracing a map for Maxwell’s lips to follow. It was slightly ticklish, Maxwell’s plush lips mixed with his rough stubble rubbing against his thighs, it forced Maxwell to steady a hand against his stomach to keep him from squirming too much. With steady hands, Maxwell pulled off Cullen’s last bit of clothing and discarding his own in the process.
They stared at other, breathing heavily. Maxwell tried to drink up the sight in front of him as much as he could, while Cullen tried to commit to memory what it looks like to have one of the most powerful men in Thedas kneeling above him completely naked.
Without wasting another second Maxwell puts his lips to Cullen’s dick, kissing the head, then spreading them just enough to suckle at the tip. Cullen quietly gasped, swallowing hard. It had been years since anyone had touched him this way. He never thought he would find someone he trusted enough to take to bed, yet here he was, thanking Andraste and the maker himself for allowing him to climb into Maxwell’s space.
Maxwell got more bold as he worked, taking more of Cullen into his mouth. Cullen unconsciously thrusted into Maxwell’s slack mouth. He couldn’t very far, the arm that steadied him earlier was placed back on his stomach, restricting his movement. A frustrated groan escaped Cullen before he could catch it and caught Maxwell trying not to smile. The brunet pulled off and licked the precome that got on his lips. “You’re so cute.”
Cullen flustered and pressed his lips into a tight line. He didn’t trust himself not to say something completely embarrassing.
“Can… can I take you?”
That got Cullen’s attention. Maxwell had settled himself in between legs that Cullen didn’t know he could spread that far. Maxwell had clear sight of his hole and it made Cullen want to close his legs out of bashfulness, yet he relented on the thought.
“Y-yes. I… I don’t… I’ve never...” Cullen looked up at the ceiling, willing the Maker to not let him mess this up.
“It’s okay, we, um, we don’t have to.”
“No! I mean. No, I want to. I just... have never been taken. Please, I do want you.”
Maxwell flashed a warm smile then pressed a long kiss to Cullen’s lips.
“If anything becomes too much, you know to stop me right?”
Cullen nods and takes a deep breath. He lets his legs fall open as they were and watched Maxwell’s gaze fall from his face to between his legs. He knew his face and chest were flush red yet he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. Maxwell reached over him to ruffle inside his nightstand for a small container. When opened, the smell of mint and earth filled the air and Cullen looked at Maxwell questioningly.
“Don’t ask why I have it, but it’s oil with a special root infused. Will help with comfort, helps relax muscles.” Maxwell dipped his fingers into it with a shrug. The liquid was even thicker than oil and the smell made Cullen’s nose tickle.
When Maxwell made first contact with Cullen’s hole, he circled his index fingers around the ring before pressing up to his first joint. Cullen tensed under him, not parsing the feeling very effectively. It was hard to describe, especially since Maxwell took this as an opportunity to start sucking his cock again. He sighed, but it turned into a breathy whimper. Maxwell finished pushing his first finger into Cullen, quickly doing the same thing with his middle finger. After a moment of adjustment, Maxwell pulled his fingers out only to slowly put them back in. It took everything in Maxwell not to fuck Cullen right there, the man above him spilling little mewls and begs the more he moved.
Maxwell didn’t have to explore the inside of Cullen for long before he found his spot, causing the blond to buck up into Maxwell’s mouth and choking his lover, making him sputter on his dick.
“Oh— oh Maker I’m sorry, so sorry.” Cullen slurred a little, hazy from the pleasure he was receiving but nonetheless felt bad for choking Maxwell. The other man shrugged and smiled, coughing a little.
“No need to apologize. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like that a little.”
Cullen gasped and Maxwell chuckled lowly, pressing a small kiss to the top of Cullen’s thigh. He moved his fingers again over Cullen’s spot, making him moan and slam his eyes shut. Occasionally, Cullen would be able to find it himself when he fingered himself, but he was always too awkward to get the right angle. He wondered what else Maxwell would be able to tease out of him. The thought made him shudder.
“I think I’m ready, please, Maxwell,” Cullen pleaded, pulling at Maxwell’s arm to get him close. Maxwell obliged and settled above Cullen, but he didn’t expect Cullen to grab his cock and shakily stroke it, causing him to cry out. He ignored his own pleasure for the sake of Cullen and didn’t realize how desperate he was starting to get.
Swatting Cullen’s hand away, Maxwell lined himself up with Cullen, pressing the tip to him and slowly pressing in, causing both of them to moan. Maxwell hitched Cullen’s legs up to wrap around his waist, of which Cullen readily clung to.
Maxwell added more oil to where they joined and in a slow swoop put his cock to the hilt in Cullen. Cullen shook below him and Maxwell kissed all over his face, from his nose to his cheeks to his lips.
They stilled, letting Cullen adjust and Maxwell catch his breath. Cullen was... divine. Tight and warm, so soft and sweet under him. Somewhere dark in his mind wanted him to be like this more often, pliant and cute, wanting to be taken care of. Without thinking, Maxwell searched for Cullen’s hand, binding their fingers together to help anchor him. He left little kisses on Cullen’s neck, letting his free hand stroke Cullen’s side.
Cullen breathed heavily, feeling increasingly impatient in the stillness. “You… you can move…”
Not needing another cue, Maxwell experimentally rolled his hips, making Cullen grunt and seize. Another thrust, and another, and Maxwell falls into an easy rhythm. The thrusts weren’t particularly fast, but they were deep, causing Cullen to whimper everytime Maxwell bottomed out. Again, though, Cullen grew impatient and requested Maxwell go faster. He happily obliged, quickening his pace.
It was Maxwell’s turn to groan, the pleasure that coiled in his stomach making his shake. He buried his face into Cullen’s neck, tightening his grip on his hand and latched his lips on the tender skin, surely leaving a love bite for later. Cullen under him was alternating between moaning and catching his breath, the slap of skin ringing obscenely through the room. If the balcony doors had been opened even a fraction the couple would have surely been heard.
Maxwell was lost in the scene but caught himself enough to move to stroke Cullen’s cock. A low sob emanated from him, Maxwell not only stroking him but his thrusts brushing against his prostate. Cullen’s eyes were shut so hard he was starting to see stars behind his eyes and every thrust pushed out a chorus of ah ah ah.
Cullen’s free hand found its way into Maxwell’s hair, pulling hard and making Maxwell loudly whimper. Cullen foggily made sure that he would remember that for later.
Maxwell removed himself from Cullen’s neck and pressed their foreheads together. Cullen took it upon himself to kiss Maxwell open mouth. The kiss was noisy and messy, neither of them having the right mind to fix it.
It wasn’t long before Cullen felt that telling coil in his belly. His toes curled and his mouth fell slack, his eyebrows furrowing and a long deep cry left his mouth. Hot strings of come covered both of their stomachs, Cullen shaking and bucking against Maxwell, his body not knowing whether he wanted to get closer or farther away from the thrusting.
Maxwell willed his eyes open to watch Cullen come undone, which only egged on his impending release. His pace quickened brutally, his thrusts getting out of rhythm. Cullen writhed and loudly whimpered, overstimulation getting the best of him.
Maxwell tried to bury his head in Cullen’s neck again but Cullen stopped him, pulling his hair again and keeping his face where it was so he could watch Maxwell cum. His eyes screwed shut and he yelled brokenly, spilling inside Cullen, his stroke only breaking when he couldn't physically go on.
The two of them breathed heavily, Maxwell falling on top of Cullen after a moment. Cullen felt like jelly under Maxwell, and urged for another kiss that Maxwell happily gave him. He pulled out after they pulled away, both of them shuddering at the loss of contact.
Taking it on himself, Maxwell cleaned them off with a wet cloth from his wash basin. He discarded of it and quickly made his way back to the bed, lavishing Cullen in little pecks on his face.
Maxwell was the first to speak. “Are you okay, honey?”
Cullen nodded and smiled lazily, tackling Maxwell onto his back and throwing a leg over his.
“I’m more than okay.” Cullen’s voice was listful and soft. The good feeling in his heart had shackled itself there.
“Are you staying here tonight?”
Cullen swallowed and looked at Maxwell. “May I?”
Maxwell grinned and snaked his arm around Cullen’s shoulder, grabbing on the blankets that were jostled off the bed and throwing it across the pair.
“I’d love nothing more.”
The fire made earlier was dying down but the blanket was warm enough between them. Nonetheless, Maxwell snuggled closer to Cullen, placing a kiss to his forehead.
For the first time since either of them joined the inquisition, they went to sleep without a worry.
+++
Josephine was tipsy and counting her winnings from wicked grace. She scanned the room but didn't see her desired person anywhere. "Has anyone seen the Inquisitor? He promised to have a drink with me after I won!"
Varric let out a hearty chuckle and Bull gave his own belting laugh.
"Haven't you noticed who else is missing, Josephine?" Bull's voice boomed and his tankard sloshed.
Josephine looked around again and noticed Commander Cullen was gone as well.
"Are they fighting again? At this time of night?"
Varric leaned into the table and raised his eyebrows.
"They're doing some sword fighting alright."
Bull laughed and Cassandra who caught the tail of that conversation sneered.
Josephine looked at Varric before it hit her. Oh. Oh.
#cullen rutherford#m!inquisitor#bi!cullen#inquisitor/cullen rutherford#dragon age inquisition#maxwell trevelyan#male inquisitor/cullen rutherford#be warned there is sm*t in this#cullen x m!inquisitor#bottom!cullen
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One Short Day (Summer Fic Comp 18)
Summary: Patton has a really bad day, so Virgil tries to help.
Trigger Warnings: The Q and F slurs. To skip them, skip the from ’“Okay,” Connor said’ to ‘Oh. Oh.’
Word Count: 2059
Ballot
Patton was having a very, very bad day. First, his coffee maker broke, spilling coffee everywhere and probably ruining his favorite sweater. Then his car wouldn’t start; thankfully, however, he had listened to Logan and gotten a portable jump starter kit that didn’t require a second car.
He pulled up to school, barely in time to start his first class of the day, which was senior-level Honors English. The bell rang, and 30 tired and unenthused seniors walked in the door.
“Good morning, class!” His greeting was met with mumbles, so he tried again, with even more pep he wasn’t at all feeling.
“What is up, everybody?”
“Hi, Mr. Sanders” came the ever-so-slightly more energetic response.
“Now, kiddos, I know it’s early on a Monday, but you can do better than that! I be-leaf in you!” Patton held up the plastic maple leaf he kept on his desk, eliciting 29 groans and 1 giggle.
“Ayy, you got me, Thomas!”
“Yeah, because you tell the same joke every day, Mr. Sanders.” The entire class laughed at Thomas’ quip, Patton included.
“Good point,” Patton ceded, pointing at him, “Get it? Good point? Also, valid observation.”
“You have cat to be kitten me. It’s too early for this bull-”
“Hey now, language! But you definitely deserve a Patt on the back for the excellent dad jokes today.”
“Was… was that a self-referential pun? To a crowd that usually doesn’t know the first names of their teachers, when you only just told us your first name last week?” Joan, Thomas’ friend, spoke up.
“Well, yeah! Why do you think I told you guys? Before that,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eye, “I was Patton pending!”
“I never thought I’d say this, but can we please get to actually learning things?” Talyn, Joan’s datemate, called from the back of the class.
“Right, as usual, Talyn,” Patton laughed, “so who has thoughts they’d like to share on the chapters of The Picture of Dorian Gray you all read over the weekend?” Silence fell, with the exception of a murmur from a boy named Connor.
Patton knew it wasn’t right for teachers to have favorite or least favorite students, but Connor was by far his least favorite. Connor was the kind of student who put no effort into understanding the material and then complained that he didn’t get it, that it was boring. Patton frankly couldn’t understand why he was taking an honors course, and nothing he said or did seemed to get through to the kid. And that’s what bugged Patton the most. Every no-effort paper, every barely passed test, felt like a personal failure to Patton. He was responsible for his students and their success. At the end of the day, however, he knew that learning is communication, and communication is a two-way street. He didn’t dislike Connor as a person, of course, he was simply sad and frustrated by his apathy towards his education.
“What was that, Connor?”
“N- nothing, Mr. Sanders.”
“Now, kiddo, we both know that’s not true. Your thoughts are as important and valid as anyone else’s. So, please, share them with us.” Patton’s voice was firm, making it clear he wouldn’t accept ‘no’ for an answer.
“Okay,” Connor said, a challenging smirk on his face, “I think that this book is a waste of our time and that no one cares what a dusty old queer had to say about other faggots over a hundred years ago.”
Oh. Oh. Patton’s chest got tight and he briefly saw red before he remembered where he was. He noticed at least five students flinch at the slur and realized he had been presented an opportunity to make a real difference in his students’ lives. Patton took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts before beginning.
“Thank you for your honest input, Mr. Williams. While your phrasing was incredibly offensive, and we will have a serious conversation with the principal after class about your use of those slurs, you bring up a point that warrants discussion, one that has occurred in countless English courses.
Why should we care? What did this novel add to the world, and does the author’s background add or remove weight from their work? I was going to discuss Oscar Wilde’s sexuality and the homosexual themes throughout the novel after we finished reading it, but since Connor brought it up, this seems like a perfect time.
Before I start lecturing, I want to know if any of you have things you’d like to add to the discussion. Yes, even you, Connor, provided you phrase your comments more carefully.” Patton paused, giving his students time to speak up if they wanted to. He was immensely relieved when a usually very quiet girl named Samantha rose her hand.
“Yes, Samantha, the floor is yours.”
“Oh, um, I just wanted to say that I think it was really brave of Oscar Wilde. I feel like the book is about vice and, um, how it destroys people, even if you- if you can’t tell by looking at them. The fact that it’s Basil Hallward who is explicitly gay is really important. Other authors might have added being gay to the list of 'sins’ Dorian Gray is guilty of, but Wilde makes Hallward something of a tragedy.
The portrait is basically the product of Hallward’s sexuality, a representation of it. Gray destroys it and then kills Hallward, which by could be interpreted out of context as a 'punishment’ for Hallward being gay. And while killing the gay character is a tragically common trope, that’s not what Wilde wrote. Because it’s Gray who killed him, it can be argued that acting the way he did is yet another example of the debauchery that causes not only his death but in the end makes him as ugly as he always feared he’d become.
Sorry, I know you hadn’t assigned that far, but I really liked the book and needed to know how it ended. And, uh, sorry for talking so much.”
“Samantha, please do not apologize for any of that. That was very well put and almost every point I was going to make.” Patton wanted to comment that he noticed her voice getting stronger and more sure as she talked, but he didn’t want to embarrass her.
“Oh, um, thanks, Mr. Sanders.”
“Mr. Sanders, what are the 'other points’ you wanted to make?” Joan asked, who had been giving Connor a murderous glare the entire time.
“Before I answer, is there anything anyone else would like to say?” Patton waited for anyone to speak up, but when no one did, he continued, “I want to discuss the larger picture. But we’ll have to table that for another day since the bell is about to ring. If you want to read ahead, please do, but I’m not going to assign another chapter for tomorrow- all I ask is that you come prepared for a discussion of notable LGBT+ authors and how their identity shaped their works, such as William Shakespeare, Truman Capote, Emily Dickinson, and Tennessee Williams. Wow me with what you bring in and there are extra credit points in it for you! Have a wonderful day, and I look forward to our discussion tomorrow. Connor, a word, please.”
—-
Virgil came home to complete chaos. There was a mess of tangled fairy lights on the couch, and it looked like there was an explosion of flour in the kitchen.
“God, Pat, you are lucky I love you. What’s up with all the messes?” Virgil called out, laughing fondly at his chaotic energetic boyfriend.
“Oh hi, my love! I meant to have it all cleaned up by the time you got home. Time flies when you’re having fun, I guess! How was your day?”
“It was really good. Got a really big breakthrough with the couple I told you I’ve been struggling so much with- I think they’re gonna get somewhere really healthy.”
“Oh my goodness, that’s so great! We have to celebrate- as it so happens, I made chocolate cake, and was gonna make stroganoff for dinner.”
“Pat, it’s my turn to cook, remember? You spoil me too- shit. I can’t believe I missed it. What’s wrong, sunshine?”
“Nothing, Virge. I just wanted to do something sweet for my sweetie!”
“Please let me in, love. Can I help?”
“I- I don’t know, and I didn’t want to worry you. It’s just been a really rough day.”
“Let’s make a deal. Let’s make lasagna together while you tell me what’s up, and then I’ll draw you a bubble bath and we’ll watch 8 Mile?”
“Not 8 Mile, not tonight. Make it the 2005 Pride and Prejudice, and I’m in.”
“As you wish, Patton-cake.”
“I love you too, dork.”
The two men got busy making lasagna, singing and sort-of dancing as they cooked. When they put the dish in the oven, Patton started talking.
“V, it was a hell of a day. The coffee pot broke, and I spilled coffee all over my sweater, and I really need to call your brother and thank him for the advice about the jumper kit. Without it, I wouldn’t have gotten to work on time. But that was little stuff, and you know me, I brushed it off and was really excited to talk with my kiddos about The Picture of Dorian Gray. And class started really well, you’d have died at how they kept the pun train rolling. I love them all so much. I’ve talked to you about Connor before, right?”
“I think so. Total slacker, could be one of the best students in the class if he gave a damn?”
“Yep, that’s the kid. He dropped the f and q slurs a couple of times complaining about the book.”
“Oh my god Patton are you okay? What happened? Did the kid get his ass handed to him like he deserves?”
“Breathe, Virgil. It’s all okay. He’s got detention for 2 weeks, his parents know and are pissed, and I was able to turn it into a good teaching moment. Well, technically, Samantha did.”
“Quiet Samantha?”
“Yeah, she had some incredible insights into the book and how it deals with sexuality and morality. She apparently read ahead and finished the book, so she was able to tie in Gray’s death too.
It was incredible to watch. She’s so quiet and started out so unsure, but by the end, she was so confident, I almost cried.”
“You cry at everything, Pat. Don’t argue- you cried last week because snakes don’t have legs. For real, though, that’s amazing. You are amazing.”
“It was all her!”
“No, it wasn’t. I was just like Samantha in school. I had so many things to say, but I was terrified of being wrong, so I said nothing. Except in classes where I completely trusted the teacher, where I knew my ideas would be really heard, not just listened to, and respected. Teachers like that, teachers like you, change the world. I guarantee that Samantha will never forget today, and neither will any LGBT+ kid in that class.
God, Patton, you change lives. You are the most incredible person I’ve ever met, and it blows my mind that somehow you think I’m worthy of your love. Every day, I try to be someone you can be proud of, and I want to keep doing it for the rest of our lives.” Virgil slipped out of his chair and onto one knee, pulling a small velvet box out of his jacket pocket.
“Patton Sanders, at the risk of sounding cliché as hell, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”
“Virgil… my sweet and sour misunderstood shadowling, I couldn’t do any of what I do without you. You’re as important to me as air or puppies. You make me want to be the best version of me, and there is nothing I want more than to marry you.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes! Virgil Raine, I absolutely will marry you!” Crying, Patton pulled Virgil up and kissed his fiancé. “Now, let’s have some engagement lasagna and take an engagement bubble bath!”
“You’re such a dork. I love you so fucking much.”
“I hope you do, 'cuz we’re getting married!”
“That we are,” Virgil chuckled, tears in his eyes as well.
@mystrangedarkson
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DA Question
Tagged by: nobody, I just wanted to play
Tagging: @gremlinquisitor because I haven’t seen you do it yet
01) Favorite game of the series?
Inquisition, hands down.
02) How did you discover Dragon Age?
Fun story, I first played Origins somewhere between seven and nine years and never got my Brosca out of Orzammar. It was on PC and I just couldn’t get used to the controls. Then I made a friend who is a hardcore Bioware fan. Xe got me invested in Mass Effect first and I marathoned all three games (almost, I haven’t actually finished me3) then got stubborn and refused to play Dragon Age, but xe sent me Origins and I had no reason not to at that point. I still held out till this past summer, but once I started I never looked back.
03) How many times you’ve played the games?
I’m on my second Origins playthough, DA2 only once so far, and uhhhh technically I’ve only finished DAI once but I have three other playthroughs I intend to see through to the end.
04) Favorite race to play as?
I love dwarves, oh my god. There was never a question that my first Warden would be a dwarf, and I only waited as long as I did for a dwarf in Inquisition because I don’t like the Cadash origin. Bring back my Orzammar dwarves!
05) Favorite class?
Warrior, always. I have a couple of mages and enjoy them, but I am a warrior player at heart always, my first protag will always be a warrior, and I tend to love warrior characters too.
06) Do you play through the games differently or do you make the same decisions each time?
So far in Origins, my choices have been largely the same, though I think I’ll try to save Conner this time. I have a Hawke right now who I’m trying to play as red but it’s SO HARD, I just like being nice to people and making friends! So far many of my Inquisition choices have been the same, except for romances, but Varevas is going to drink from the Well where Ghilanel let Morrigan do it, Astoria’s going to conscript the templars where both of them recruited the mages, Varevas will disband the Inquisition while Ghilanel kept it going, there are a lot of changes coming when I get time to play through stuff.
07) Go-to adventuring group?
Origins is always Alistair, Zevran, and Wynne, no matter how hard I try to make myself mix it up. I was warned about DA2 so I changed it up for maximum friendship but if I had my way, it would’ve been Jonah, Aveline, Anders, and Fenris or Varric. Three guards and a healer meant leaving a lot of chests unopened so I tried to bring Varric along when I could. Ghilanel’s go to was Solas, Dorian, and Varric, and so far Varevas’ has been Dorian, Sera, and either Bull or Blackwall.
08) Which of your characters did you put the most thought into?
Ghilanel has the most time and creativity invested in her at this point. I didn’t put much thought into any of them going in beyond appearance and who I wanted to romance (though Ghilanel was originally going to be a Cullen or Blackwall romance, fucking egg ruins everything) but Ghilanel grew and grew as I played and thought about her. Leohta, Jonah, and Varevas all have a lot to offer, but in terms of being developed and able to support a story of their own, it’s definitely Ghil.
09) Favorite romance?
Dorian, oh man. I just swoon, he’s perfect.
10) Have you read any of the comics/books?
I’ve read almost all of the comics (I’m halfway through Knight Errant) and I have many of the books but haven’t actually started any of them yet.
11) If you read them, which was your favorite book?
I enjoyed Magekiller a LOT!
12) Favorite DLCs?
Descent. The Wellspring is possibly the most beautiful environment in any of the games, I almost cried when my party got there, and everything leading up to that was also visually stunning as well as exactly the kind of lore I live for. It also features my beautiful wife Valta and her perfect husband Renn which is just a bonus. I will say, though, Jaws of Hakkon could easily surpass it if they’d like, put out a novelization of Ameridan’s Inquisition. Trespasser was incredible too but sadly I was spoiled and that took a lot of the fun out of the end of it.
13) Things that annoy you.
Little things like not being able to swim and not hearing banter when you’re on a mount. Bigger things like the fact that in order to make an informed decision about Orlais (as a player) you have to have read an entire other novel because the game doesn’t give you the information you need, even if it’s also not necessarily things your character would know. All the sort of stock things, like Cassandra not being bi (among other characters but she’s the one that makes me the most angry), Bioware whitewashing their own characters, no dwarf romances. Not even touching on fandom stuff.
14) Orlais or Ferelden?
Ferelden always.
15) Templars or mages?
Templars, to be contrary (by which I mean I have Opinions about this and while in general I side with mages in all things, I still say Templars).
16) If you have multiple characters, are they in different/parallel universes or in the same one?
I only really have one complete world state right now, with Leohta romancing Alistair and putting Anora alone on the throne, and Jonah romancing Anders and running away with him at the end of the game, but within that Ghilanel is the Inquisitor with Varevas as her clan’s First who survives the Conclave with her; Astoria as a rebel mage who joins up before even considering going to Redcliffe because her nephew is the Inquisitor; and Leohta attending the Conclave undercover as a Carta member and trying to maintain that cover after Haven.
17) What did you name your pets? (mabari, summoned animals, mounts, etc)
Leohta and Jonah both named their mabaris Leon, and Buian named hers Taz.
18) Have you installed any mods?
PS player, no mods here
19) Did your Warden want to become a Grey Warden?
It beat the alternative. Die in the Deep Roads now, or die in the Deep Roads later. Leohta chose later.
20) Hawke’s personality?
Blue as the summer sky over Lothering, Jonah is a pure child.
21) Did you make matching armor for your companions in Inquisition?
Only for their love interests; Ghilanel and Solas were all green and gold until the breakup, then she dyed her armour deep red. Varevas and Dorian are white and red. Leohta’s all warden armour, just like Alistair. Astoria would match Bull if Bull wore more clothing...
22) If your character(s) could go back in time to change one thing, what would they change?
Leohta would’ve been more careful with Zevran’s heart to avoid having to dump him right before the final battle.
Jonah would’ve investigated the alleged serial killings sooner, to possibly save his mother.
Ghilanel would’ve worked harder to make something of herself before the Inquisition knowing she’d need it later.
Varevas would’ve... I dunno. Probably flirted harder with Cullen, he’s hilarious when he’s all out of sorts over it.
23) Do you have any headcanons about your character(s) that go against canon?
I’m sure I do but I can’t think of any just now, which is odd.
24) Who did you leave in the Fade?
JONAH BABY I’M SORRY I DIDN’T KNOW so from now on it’s gonna be Stroud
25) Favorite mount?
Ghilanel liked the Royal Sixteen and Varevas loves his Dalish All-bred but in general I don’t bother with them, I like the banter more than getting around faster.
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Dragon Age Inquisition Review (Spoiler Free!)
I know, I KNOW, DOES ANYBODY STILL TALK ABOUT THIS GAME? *just you* I DON'T CARE!
Maybe now that it was (almost) confirmed that Dragon Age 4 is a thing, people will come back to the older games. I must admit, I jumped completely BLIND into this game: haven't played Origins or II, never knew anything about the story – just so you know, the only thing I knew prior to playing this game was Alistair and the infatuation everyone (men and women) feel for this man. I knew it was an rpg, that you create your own avatar and that you could romance some characters, but that was all. IN FACT my knowledge of this game was so little that I thought Alistair was a main character in this one! Just imagine!
Fortunately, Dragon Age Inquisition is pretty friendly to newcomers: it doesn't overwhelm you with information, it tells a self-contained story and it's conclusive (or… not so much. I'm looking at you, dlc expansions). Of course, that doesn't mean that I haven't scouted throughout the whole internet for all the deets, but that's on me.
So you play as the Inquisitor: a character you create. Male or female, they can be Human, Elf, Dwarf or Qunari. It's worth noting that, whereas it's good to have variety, Bioware failed to deliver good animations for each of the races, due to the fact that dwarves and the Qunari (too short or too tall respectively) are sometimes cropped out of the scenes or their animations just don't match their arms or legs. It's a bit sad, for it could've been a great opportunity, but in the end, it seems the game was created for you to play as a human.
I chose to be what later I realized was the worst thing in all Thedas: a female elven mage. It wasn't until a few hours later that I noticed how much hate mages received! And my elf, being a dalish, a tribe of elves that abandoned those who lived in cities and strived for reviving the old ways, living in forests and such, were despised even by the other elves as well. So I was Inquisitor Lavellan, the worst scum on Earth. Great! Personally I adore mages and they are always my first choice when it comes to character creation. You might guess some of my later decisions in the game based on this.
You're thrown into the game with a weird mark on your left hand. First thing you know, you're a prisoner, and Cassandra and Leliana (two returning characters) are interrogating you in the dungeons, demanding answers. Of course you don't understand a thing they're talking about, until they show what YOU, YOU ABHORRENT CREATURE have created: a huge green breach pierces the sky, opening the way to the Fade, the land of spirits and demons. And you, you ABHORRENT CREATURE must close it, because it was you the one who opened it! You and your mark! You're led by Cassandra, a female warrior and Seeker of Truth, to the heart of the breach. In your way you'll meet two future companions, Varric (from DAII) and Solas, another elven mage. Now the squad is formed, you venture into this veil, only to find a vision of the past: Divine Justinia, the woman Cassandra served and the leader of the Chantry, asking you to run away before something explodes. The suspicion on you just grows stronger, but also the respect and the mystery around the mark of your hand. You fail to close the breach, and you're left unconscious for a couple of days.
You wake up in a cozy and warm place: Haven. This will be your hub-world for at least twenty hours. I MUST tell you this, for I felt the game only started when these first twenty hours finished: you're given quests and the story progresses fast enough to make you feel safe and secure in your way. The Inquisition es formed to fight this breach in the sky, and you must recruit as many companions as you can. Only after completing the initial quests and reuniting all the playable characters can I safely say the game starts.
Haven is attacked by Coripheus, a bad bad bad guy (you can notice he's evil because of his appearance, so evil and cruel, evil, evil man) and his archdemon, a huge black dragon. They tore down the whole place. You, as the main hero/heroine, must save everyone from total doom. You of course succeed in this (after a really annoying battle with fiends spawning every two seconds without allowing you to fricking spin a wheel), but Haven is forever destroyed in the process.
Thanks to Solas, the squad finds a new headquarters to live in: Skyhold, which is SO BEAUTIFUL AND REMINDS ME SO MUCH OF HOGWARTS- pretty useful for the Inquisition's purposes. You're officially named the Inquisitor, which for my character was a big deal, because she was not only a fricking hated mage, but also a fricking hated dalish elf. I made her always stood up for her race and her abilities, which served a greater purpose I believe the game hid very well: to break with prejudices. This is easy to miss if you play as a rogue human or warrior human, but when you play with other races, especially elves or Qunari, you can see how things change.
It's just a detail, but this hate for elves is such that when you do the Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts main quest and you need to gain points from the Orlaisian court, an elf starts off with ten less points of approval than a human. It's stupid, it's tiny, but it goes to show that prejudices are a huge thing in this game. Don't even get me started with mages, goddammit!
I know this all goes back to the previous games, and that's why I've read/watched what happens in those. Still, it's good that Bioware lets you redeem past characters with yours in Inquisition.
So now that you're at Skyhold, many new main quests unlock, many new main areas unlock as well and the game actually starts! I won't say the first part was just a prologue, for it's not, but it feels like the action picked up the pace once you get to your new home. As I said, being in Haven makes you feel comfortable and warm. The game creates a false feeling of safety before dealing a devastating blow, and that hit me hard.
From now on, you can do side quests, explore areas, close some rifts, talk to your companions and follow the main storyline as you please. It's all up to you! I won't spoil what happens, but I will talk about other stuff, like its characters.
Let's start off with your main Inquisitor. Their personality can vary between three main reactions to everything: either you're generous and solomonic, sarcastic and ironic, or direct and blunt, mostly unfriendly. I always went for the first option, but sometimes I needed to be a fricking bitch to get things done. One of the most important instances in which you can see right through your main character is the Sit in Judgment quests: after some main quests, you're given the option to judge certain characters that took part in it. The choices aren't the same for each case and mostly depends on your decisions or actions throughout the game, but again there are three main options: to give them a fair punishment (like community work), lock them up in the dungeons or execution. It kind of reminded me of Game of Thrones, when Ned tells Bran that the man dictating the punishment should wield the sword, well, it goes along those lines.
You can also begin a romantic relationship with the romanceable characters available to your race and gender. Specifically, a female elven Inquisitor can romance Cullen, Solas, Josephine, Iron Bull, Sera and Blackwall. A female human Inquisitor can romance all of the above, except for Solas. A female Inquisitor of the other races can romance Josephine, Iron Bull, Sera and Blackwall. And a male Inquisitor, doesn't matter the race, can romance Cassandra, Dorian, Iron Bull and Josephine again. So, once again, without even knowing it, I chose to be the most desirable Inquisitor in all Thedas! I believe the romantic relationship adds too much depth to both the romanceable character and your Inquisitor: you'll see them interacting in ways that are not available in other instances, and also develops their characters well beyond what the game wants to show you at first glance. Personally, I chose Cullen (I swear I didn't know ANYTHING about him from past games – I later investigated, and it fits so well that he falls in love with a mage!), but I'd advise you to try the other relationships as well. Cof, especially, cof, cof, Solas, cof, cof, damn you dlc expansions.
Let's talk for a bit about your companions. These will be your playable characters for the rest of the game. Prior to the attack to Haven, you can recruit Blackwall, a grey warden, with a past that hides more than meets the eye; Vivienne, an enchantress so beautiful that it made me question my sexuality a few times; Dorian, the most handsome mage in all Thedas that unfortunately only has eyes for men and not for this poor female Inquisitor who's been friendzoned by him; Sera, a rogue elf who doesn't like much magic or the elves or anything related to the Fade, but has the most interesting and funniest personality out of the team; Iron Bull, a mercenary Qunari who works with his team of rogues and is perfectly open to whatever sexual practice you're willing to try; and Cole, a spirit of a boy taken straight out of an anime and that sometimes made me want to cry myself to sleep with his storyline. These guys, alongside Varric, Solas and Cassandra, will accompany you to your missions. For each place you go, you have to choose three of them to form your team, but at each camp you can swap your characters just like that. Three warriors, three mages and three rogues, each of them specializing in one of the branches available for the class the Inquisitor belongs to. I recommend you to bring them all to your missions, maybe just walking around with them, for they interact with each other and their reactions are so natural and casual that makes me wonder how many lines were recorded for this game! And it adds so much to them and to their personalities!
At Skyhold, you'll have your counselors waiting for you at the war table: Cullen, your hot-as-hell-and-I-want-you-to-marry-me-you-sexy-pixel commander; Leliana, the master of spies and mother of all secrets and crows; and Josephine, your well educated ambassador, whose accent made me rethink in how many ways can the letter R be pronounced and that I've been saying it wrong my whole life.
All of these characters are unique and memorable. Companions and counselors will give you quests related to their backstories, in which you can learn from them and, if you're romancing them, advance further in your relationship. I strongly recommend you play all of their quests, for it develops the main story, and it makes you understand them. These are all morally grey characters, none of them are black or white, and sometimes some of your decisions in their quests can alter the ending of the game. So backle up, because there are these Social Links to complete and- sorry, wrong game.
For the most part, Dragon Age Inquisition remains with a serious and ominous tone. That's why there are certain scenes that melted my heart and robbed me of a few laughs and giggles, like the night they all play cards and Cullen ends up naked because he lost, or the man you have to judge that's angry at you and throws goats at Skyhold's walls – Maker's Breath, that one was a gem! And let us not forget about Cass and her filfthy readings! For these moments, I'm terribly grateful, for they remind me that sometimes it's good to relax and give these poor, tortured characters a break.
The voice acting in this game is just flawless. I can only speak for Cullen's romance, but his voice actor nailed it perfectly. There were scenes with him that destroyed my heart, and only because of how he spoke, so soft and sweet. AND LET ME JUST TELL YOU, THIS CUTSCENE:
IF YOU LISTEN CAREFULLY YOU CAN HEAR MY HEART BREAKING IN THE DISTANCE
The music score in this game was better than I expected. The main theme fits so well the tone of the story, and I was left impressed by the songs you can hear in the taverns! They're there, in the background, but if you stop to listen, you find magic and charm in their lyrics. Unexpected to say the least!
Visuals are also a delight. Except for character models, sceneries are colorful and vivid. A pity some animations are rigid and repetitive.
However much I loved this game (and Cullen Wullen Cully Wully), I must say it's far from perfect. Most of my issues stem from technical problems and bugs: more than once my character was trapped in the falling animation without being able to make her walk, sometimes a character would disappear from a cutscene and suddenly the other characters would speak INTO THE VOID, some trophies are bugged and wouldn't pop up, etcetera, etcetera. There’s little room for appearance customization, with only short hairs for both male and female (Gods how I wish mods were a thing in consoles). I'm also quite angry that the actual ending that most probably will lead to Dragon Age 4 is in the expansion pack Trespasser, which is only 5 hours long and it currently costs (in Argentina PSN) over 17 dollars. If you've been following our poor and sad history with exchange rates, you'll know that's a lot of money for just a few hours of story I can easily find in YouTube (although I want to play it so bad!). I've bought complete games cheaper than that. Hell, this whole game costed me only 6 dollars!
That aside, and if you're able to oversee the bugs, I assure you, this is a great game. Gameplay is fast paced, the specialization for each character is deep and it marks a difference with the others, and the way you develop a friendship with each of your companions melted my heart. During the epilogue, you get to speak to each of them and the things they say to you can be synthetized in "dhajkdjakldjakldklas!!!".
I entered this world without a single piece of knowledge of it, and now, Dragon Age has gained a new follower. I'm thinking about playing the first two (of course, a fricking female mage again, because GO MAGES, GO!), only to cry in a corner waiting for the fourth installment to ever see the light of day.
If you liked The Witcher, or World of Warcraft, or are a fan of the past games, you can’t miss this one. Go, become the Inquisitor, kill some dragons, save the world, have some fun with your partner, love and care for Cullen Wullen Cully Wully, thank you.
#dragon age inquisition#dragon age 3#dai#da3#videogame#videogame review#review#bioware#ea#inquisitor lavellan#cullen rutherford#cassandra pentaghast#leliana#varric#hawke#dragon age 2#dragon age origins#dragon age 4#solas#warden#thedas#tevinter#ferelden#orlais#alistair#dorian#rpg#recommendations#long post
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How about Inquisition companions, advisors, and love interests reacting to the inquisitor having a gaggle of clearly adopted kids (different races and the ones that are the same race look nothing at all like the inquisitor) that they took in before the Conclave.
I am living for asks like these! Also, I love Vivienne and think she deserves so much better than she was given.-Mod M
Blackwall: He's the type of guy that'll spend months carving each and every one of them something for their birthday. The Dad of the group, who probably has a mug with "Worlds okayest Dad" on it. One of the kids made it for him. He uses it ever day.Romanced: Treats each and every one of them as if they were his own, teaching them everything he knows, and doing anything for them. Nobody is going to forget him walking through Skyhold with flowers braided into his hair and beard any time soon.
Cassandra: Momma Cassandra coming through, y'all! She loves kids and is oddly motherly for someone who can be so harsh. Loves each kid to bits and definitely reads them all bedtime stories. Gives the best hugs.Romanced: Even more loving. Gives each and every one of them a good night kiss and checks on them every other hour. She will (and probably has) kill for them. Teaches them sword fighting and self defense. They're her babies! She has to keep them safe!
Cole: Blends right in. Always gets them what they want for their birthday and knows when they have a nightmare. He'll be right there in about 0.5 seconds if they're even slightly scared, ready to help any way he can. Checks on all of them during the night.
Dorian: Has absolutely no clue what he's doing. For everything else he knows, children continue to absolutely confuse him. What do they want? He does try though. He almost tries too hard before realizing that he's definitely doing way too much.Romanced: Not all that different. Tries a bit more for the Inquisitor, and does his best to keep them all happy.
Sera: She's going to teach all of them to prank. She's that really fun gay big sister with all the bad advice when one of them gets a crush. Probably also helped them get away with repainting Cullen's entire office.Romanced: Awwww yeah, she's the prank mom! She's oddly good at motherly advice, when it's a serious problem. Cares so much for them, but still acts more like a big sister than anything else.
Solas: Egg man was not meant for kids. He stays away from them, and when they get into his room he kicks them out as nicely as possible. He doesn't want Cassandra or Blackwall mad at him, so he tries to be as nice as he can. Likes the mage children though. He teaches them about the Fade.Romanced: Oh my him, now he has to leave more people. Except these people view him like a dad. He wishes it had panned out different. He always secretly loved the thought of having kids.
The Iron Bull: Piggy Back Ride King. Uncontested. The best. He loves kids, so he'll take any chance to help out and watch them. Has nicknames for every last one of them, and always uses them. Everyone's pretty sure he's forgotten their real names.Romanced: So many little Chargers. He gets everyone in on babysitting. All the Chargers joke about "The Iron Mom@, or how he should be baking something in a frilly pink apron. Tea Parties. So many tea parties.
Varric: Tries to remember them all, but ends up having to write their names down. Writes bedtime stories (Cassandra reads them), and calls Cassandra Mama Bear. Is sure to mention them in "This Shit Is Weird, The Inquisitors Story". He's like the cool uncle that lets you stay up after bedtime and play cards with him.
Vivienne: Madame De Fer does not like children, nor does she have time to deal with them. She is poise and grace, and has better things to do than to deal with a screaming child. But Vivienne remembers when she was a little girl in the Circle. How she loved to hear stories from the Templars and sit to watch the older mages practice. How she missed being tucked in and kissed on the forehead every night by her mother. How she hurt when people sneered at her, calling her a no-good mage. So she gives them her all, showering them with gifts and affection when people aren't looking, protects them from any harm, sings and tells them stories when they ask.
The advisors:
Cullen: He knows what he's doing. He has younger siblings, after all. He protests moving them all to Skyhold at first, it's cold and miserable, they hardly have enough room for all their soldiers, so on and so forth, but eventually caves. He wouldn't tell anyone, but he sings lullabies when they have nightmares.Romanced: Writes letters home about their kids, gets letters back asking what it's like to be a father, panics and gets flustered. In all seriousness, the Rutherford family looks forward to meeting all of the kids, especially since Cullen seemed to love them so much.
Josephine: She loves children! She tries her best to make sure they're always comfortable and happy, and that there's more than enough food to go around. She throws the best birthday parties for them all, and always makes sure it's going perfect to whoever's having the birthday.Romanced: Honestly, she's like a really really proud mama. Spoils them all, especially on their birthday. Definitely helps with their hair and will talk for hours while making some complex braid for one of them.
Leiliana: So. Damn. Protective. Sends death threats to people who so much as looked at the kids wrong, and if they lay a malevolent hand on any one of them, they better hope the Maker will have mercy on their soul. She sure won't. They are precious in her eyes, and she'll do almost anything to keep them safe. She shares all her weapon knowledge, too.
#dorian pavus#josephine montilyet#leiliana#dragon age inquisition#dragon age#cullen rutherford#cassandra pentaghast#the iron bull#warden blackwall#vivienne de fer#solas#Cole#varric tethras#sera
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Dragon age inquisition playthrough! Which I actually moved from failfandomanon to rpg.net because they kept spoiling me in my own subthread :(
Last game session was another short one but filled with personal quest one.
First, I met Varric's sexy voice. I'm sorry, I mean I met the Varric's "It's Complicated", the infamous Bianca, because CLEARLY Kirkwall wasn't enough hard boiled for Varric's background, it had to be a femme fatale with lots of eyebrow raising allusions/anecdotes but without much details or explanations. And she has a very very sexy voice, like I didn't think they could do a more sexy voice than Fenris, but apparently so. Picture me going "Guh" through most of this quest.
She's also the source of Corypheus' red lyrium although that seemed to have been accidental, which "ooops" (or rather "well shit" as the quest is named) but whatcanyoudo. I felt her reasons were more easily excusable in the context of Bartran still being alive in my worldstate although my friend disagreed.
I mean it's nice to see that Hawke's not Varric's only source of "well there was a situation and I dealt with it but now there's another situation from the consequences of those choices and it's kinda actually worse so I guess I'll have to do something about it too... which is why I'm going to need your help!"
Also Biance and Varric were pretty cute, so it's a good thing I'm a multishipper.
After that Varric invited us to play Wicked Graces with almost the whole gang. (Me, two minutes into the sequence: "[Josephine]'s going to clean them all out"). (We are left to assume that Solas and Leliana, unlike Josephine, had some kind of qualms about cleaning us out, and Vivienne... declined. Maybe?) The scene is adorable in a nice reminder of the good parts of DA2, the sense of people hanging out because they're friends. I think my character was left a bit sad that Varric continues to have a hard time not seeing her as this far off iconic person (obviously and thankfully he does try though -- and I don't think she's the best at finding common ground with him).
I will take note that while Dorian stated his desire to watch Cullen's walk of shame, he did walk away; whereas Iron Bull... did not XD
Then Leliana dealt with the letter left to her by Justinia. The scene is nicely dramatic, with a sister sent to spy on us which Leliana immediately spots and warns us about... and then tries to kill her. She didn't exactly represent a threat so I stopped her and then Leliana did finally admit that Justinia wasn't in the right to have her always act ruthlessly.
Overall the softening character arc has a lot of interesting things about Leliana, but I'm still a bit annoyed that some of initial points that you can't miss out on to manage it are 1/ very easy to miss 2/ not necessarily well justified (the first or second time involved one of her agent who had betrayed the inquisition, for ex, which is a situation where killing him does make sense even if you're not trying to be Hard Woman Making Hard Choice; at least without more context to make it seem like there were other elements in play). Made me feel like those were steps I had to go through because I had to rather than organic decisions for my characters (the hardening thing in Origins didn't feel that way to me). Overall my characters wanted Leliana to confront her own feelings though... she was feeling bad about what she was forcing herself to do, while putting Justinia on a pedestal; and figuring out she didn't have to was important. My character doesn't really pick ruthless or violent choices when she can avoid them... but I don't think she systematically disapproves of them when done by others... however it's not something that people should feel obligated to do.
Also Sera brought us on the roof to eat cookies! It's a cute scene, and interesting to hear Sera talk about her childhood. I was left with the impression that she kinda had a crush on Emmald. There's a little sense making about Sera not liking it when people lean on the prejudices against elves; although I wouldn't say to the extent that she shows dislike for. Part of it doesn't make sense, though "you get alienage for that"? Since when alienage were treated like a prison rather than where you put all the elves in a big enough town?) IN ANY CASE Cute scene.
Last, I brought back the heard of a snow wyvern to Vivienne. This personal sidequest is mostly here to humanize Vivienne (she genuinely cares and loves her love even though his patronage was key to her grabbing power and advantages) and isn't badly done but felt a little bit too emotionally manipulative in the way it's set up. I wish Bastian had been more set up and active in the background (we could have had banters/rumours about him in Wicked Hearts for example!). Although right now the problem I have with Vivienne mostly comes from my character waiting for her to do something, ANYTHING, to show herself a potential leader for the mages, someone capable of building up something in term of institutions in a way that might have long term positive impact; and feeling like the only thing Vivienne knows how to do is begging, charming, or conniving her authority from those of higher status than her rather than building it up from the community. A skill set that makes a lot of sense given Vivienne's backstory, but not one that my character values a lot in a possible leader (and she's not very impressed by Fiona either, so she's kinda miffed at the moment on that front. The only person so far who's had some concrete ideas about how to deal with mages in order to have more positive result was Cullen).
And obviously there's the question of the Divine election, which I haven't made a decision on yet. I'd say Cassandra is a bit ahead by virtue of 1/ obviously feeling motivated by the job 2/ showing great passion and having a vision of things to do about wanting the Chantry institutions to do better 3/ being capable of self criticism. OTOH Leliana has from times to times extremely intriguing ideas, however she feels a bit more erratic for that sort of position, and didn't sound nearly as into the idea. Then again, I expect the end of the softening process might have some result; we'll see.
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