#i fic

[wullu]

we don't need to speak now, I just want this to be what I need (6503 words) by ofself Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 악의 꽃 | Flower of Evil (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Baek Hee Sung | Do Hyun Soo/Cha Ji Won Characters: Cha Ji Won, Baek Hee Sung | Do Hyun Soo Additional Tags: Developing Relationship, Emotional Baggage, Denial of Feelings, Dark Past, Emotionally Repressed, Opposites Attract, Pre-Relationship, Girl Saves Boy, Awkward Romance, Getting to Know Each Other Summary:

The universe is vast and not always observable. And yet, it never confuses Hyun Soo as much as people do. He cannot understand them.

Until he meets Cha Ji Won.

[trekchik]

Fixed it. 

Red Right Hand by @not-a-natural-born-idjit

Satin and Sawdust by @ltleflrt

With Bells On by @saltandbyrne

Cooking with Gas by @winjennster

[spyderqueen]

Just a little thing I had drafted for a long time and finally finished for the latest round of “Time To Be Storytellers” on /r/dragonage.  The Prompt was Letters.

Cullen/Lavellan (Primary), Dorian/Bull [T]

"And then these three reports from the Wastes, Ser."  The Courier set down three more missives in a separate stack from the others before standing back at attention.

Cullen looked at the fresh array of paperwork that had arrived and refrained from sighing.  He would admit he'd been looking for something to distract him, but this was substantially more than he'd wanted to deal with. "Thank you. Dismissed."

"Yes, Ser." She saluted and left, closing the door behind her.

It took the better part of the afternoon to clear through the important reports on recent enemy movements and it was well into evening before he finished going through the frustratingly tedious reports on troop numbers, supplies, disciplinary actions, recruit and volunteer training progress, and so forth.  He remembered something some Orlesian officer had said to him during one of Josephine's annoying diplomatic soirees - "A general will find himself losing his life's blood not to a sword's slice, but to a hundred paper cuts."  It had been said in absolute sympathy and was probably one of the few times Cullen had encountered anyone decent at those Maker-forsaken affairs.

With the last of that work taken care of, he reached over to the messages the courier had said had been from the Hissing Wastes.  The Inquisitor had taken Cassandra, Dorian, and the Iron Bull out there to investigate something the Venatori were supposedly digging up.  He had been comfortable saving those messages until the end since, if something serious had happened, it would have stood as a message all on its own, and not just as added reports.

For the first one, he recognized the handwriting immediately as Cassandra's, which meant the message inside would undoubtedly be a dry report of any encounters with either Venatori or Red Templars. She did not consider herself skilled at writing, and so always put in minimal time with her reports - preferring to get them out of the way.

The second one was Dorian's script. These messages typically contained unending and creative complaints about the area they were in, useful commentary on Venatori movements, insults about Cullen's chess strategy, and then usually Dorian's latest move in the game they'd had to put on hold. So far Dorian looked like he was ahead as far as the number of pieces still on the board, but he was also three moves into Cullen's trap at last count, so this next move should be interesting.

It was the third message that confused him. It wasn't Bull's handwriting, which wasn't really a surprise - most of his reports were directed to Leliana; Cullen usually only saw messages from him in cases where Bull had spotted a place where recruit training could be improved, or, with ever increasing frequency, scribbled in the margins of Dorian's messages, likely as part of teasing the mage.

He looked over the front of the message again.  It was addressed simply to his full name with no other commentary.  The handwriting was clear and cautious; the letters clearly formed with laborious effort, like a child copying their primer, except that finer motor control was clearly present.

It didn't take long for him to realize that it could be instead "an adult elf copying her primer" and he quickly cracked the wax seal, hoping he had reached the correct conclusion.

Scanning the first few lines, it appeared he had.

"Dear Cullen, ma vhenan,

"Varric told me that if I am to get better at writing, I need to do it more. He said I shoud try something I woud enjoy more than boring old reports and said I shoud try writing letters to people instead. Dorian seems surprised I was given 'homework' to do. Work I am sending home? I don't understand. He laffed and woud not explain. I think he is upset because I saw the chess move he sent and told him you were going to win your match. So we made a board into the sand and he had to learn again that I am not good at righting writing or reading but I can play chess - as you well no know.

"Bull just now said that Dorian is sulking over the defeat. And now they are arguing with each other. Again. I know how this usually goes and do not want later to have to remind them that sound travels far in the dess desert."

He couldn't help but smile as he read the letter she had so carefully worked on. Yes, much of her voice and style was lost to her having to keep such a careful eye on what she was putting down, but he could still picture them all teasing each other and laughing even as she wrote. She was probably sitting nearby the others with some kind of board braced across her knees for a surface, her quill held in too tight a hand as she worked on putting each line down with precision.  He’d seen her practicing before and knew she would be mouthing the sounds as she tried to find the correct letters for the words she wanted to use; her face often scrunching up in frustration. Occasionally he would hear aggravated noises from her direction before she’d indignantly request the correct spelling of a word followed then by her returning to the paper and forcefully scrawling out the correct series of letters with a vengeance.

Considering how long Anast had argued that her illiteracy wasn’t a problem for her, when she decided she would learn to read and write, she had taken up the challenge with a ferocity. She had declared to him that she did not plan to be defeated by ink and mere shapes - no matter how confusing she frequently found their use.  More than once he had gone to check on her to find her asleep at her desk, with either her head resting on an open book, or with a quill still in her hand and ink drying on her face. Upon waking her, she would thank him and then immediately go back to her practice. Twice now he opted to just put his cloak over her so she’d be warm and just let her get her rest.

Maker, but he was stupidly in love with her.

He continued to read through her pages.

"All three of them have been complaining about sand getting into boots. I agree that it is unpleasant but I at least know how to avoid it. But they did not like my idea of going barefoot. Tho its not as easy for me either right now as I have gone so long wearing stupid shem shoes I have lost much of my"

The next line was several attempts at a word, all viciously blacked out with more ink before it continued.

"calluses. Sorry, I had to ask Dorian how to spell it. I still think it is stupid that C sounds like both K and S.

"I am akt actually writing this as the sun comes up, not because we are about to head out, but because we are bedding down in the light. It is stupid hot in the Wastes during the day - worse than the Approch Approach - and even Dorian is saying he'd rather be back at Skyhold where it is cool - and now he is telling me to not write that down because he doesn't want me using it against him next time he complains about being cold. Too late.  

“The Wastes are very pretty at nite tho.  The moon shines off all the sand and we have not needed to bring torches, not that I would need them anyway. This is good because the Venatori need them to dig and if I climb up on the rocks I can see their en camp ments miles away but they can't see us until my first arrow.

"It also means we will be heading back soon because the moon is already waning and it will be pitch black at night when it is new. But we have messed with the Venatori enuf enof enouf so much that they won’t get much further done wile we wait for the moon to wax again. I do worry about the slaves they have working tho. They worked many to death and we have freed who we could and told them to seek our camps. Some will come with us to Skyhold and I’m sure we can find places for them.

“I just asked about more spelling. How is though said like tho but laugh like laff and enough like enoff? To steal a saying - This is ridiculous (and I had to ask how that was spelled too). And Cassandra says there is an L in  both should and would even if we don’t really say it. How do any of you learn to read or write with all these stupid rules?

"Dorian just went inside his tent and is bitching (Sera taught me that spelling) about Bull having traked tracked sand into it. Bull is now saying it was Dorian's fault not dumping his boots outside earlier.  They are argueing arguing inside now. Cassandra just said she is going to bed now to try and fall asleep before things get any noisier.  We had to thro rocks at their tent yesterday. If we have to do it again today, they will have to set their tent far away from us next time.

"Sun is almost up so I will also try to get some sleep. I will hand this letter to the next messenger so you should get it before we are back but not by much.

"Ar Lath Ma

"Anast"

Cullen smiled as he carefully refolded the letter and slid it inside a desk drawer. According to the reports he'd reviewed earlier, she should be back within the next five days. He fully expected to reread the letter a few more times before then.

[spyderqueen]

/r/dragonage has been doing some writing prompts lately and one was for the first time your character tried to wield their weapon, and this was something I had always had a headcanon for, at least where Nurbryn Cadash was concerned, so I actually tried a ficlet for it.  No real ending though.  Just some fun with writing.

She really had just been passing by after running a message out to one of the Carta watchposts on the edge of town.  Okay, maybe she was lingering a little as she passed things or people who caught her interest, but she hadn't really been out to people-watch this particular day.

But hearing the boisterous conversation about recent combat was too much for Nurbryn to resist, so she may have eavesdropped a little longer than she should have.  

It was a bit early in the afternoon to be quite that drunk, but mercenaries don't usually care about such social restrictions.  But while they had lost their volume control and any remaining bit of something resembling decorum, some of them were still capable of keeping their own watch.

"You there," the closest thing this particular group had to a Lieutenant called out, "get over here.  You don't gotta be hiding like a scared little nug from us."

"Hey, don't call 'em nugs, it's kinda racist," the member of the group that definitely wasn't a mage, absolutely not - no mages in this group, yelled at the lieutenant.

"What?" Another person jumped in to the discussion, "how?"

"Hey, shut up" the lieutenant interrupted, "I'm talking to the dwarf girl... woman... girl? Shit, I can never tell if when one of you is a woman or still just a girl."

"Definitely racist," muttered the Not-Mage.

"Shhhh," the lieutenant dismissively flapped his hand at his fellow mercs before making a summoning gesture to the girl. "But nah, I've seen you around. You like to watch the Guard train."

She shrugged and approached the group, "Fighting is interesting.  Wanna learn some day."  It was the truth, sort of. She was interested in the fighting styles, but the clan paid her a few silver every week to observe the way the guardsmen in training acted, and a full sovereign every time she reported a suspected ex-Templar (and therefore possibly someone interested in purchasing lyrium) to the appropriate contact.  This was not something the mercenaries needed to know - besides, this mercenary group already had a contract with an unpleasant clan in Hercinia for their totally-not-a-mage's supply and her clan was not particularly interested in starting a skirmish over it.

"So you watch the guard huh?  Come over here, we'll show you how real men handle their weapons," one particularly drunk mercenary leered, gesturing suggestively, before the boss of the group finally joined the discussion and punched the lecher in the side of the head.

"She can't even be fifteen, you stupid sack of arseholes," the boss bellowed, booting the drunkard the rest of the way to the ground. "Watch yourself."

She was in fact thirteen, but that was neither here nor there.

The boss grabbed a massive battleaxe from where it was leaning against the wall of the shack they'd co-opted for their stay and walked over.  "Here, give this a try." He held the axe near the head, poking the haft in her direction.

Nurbryn eyed him carefully before taking hold of the haft in her hands.

The boss let go of his end of the axe and the weight of it brought the whole thing down with significant force, throwing her off balance.

Drunken snickers from the other mercenaries and an amused smirk from the boss.

She glanced over to where the weapons had been laid out and saw that the boss had handed her axe with the longest haft of all of them - it made the weapon taller than she was.

Ah. A joke to them then.

Still though... the reach would be impressive if she had the strength to deal with the weight of the blade.

Shifting her hands so there'd be more distance between them - she'd seen enough fighting to understand how the lever effect would work on a weapon like this - she made an effort to lift the blade up.  It took a number of tries, and each time failure was met with more laughter from the observers.

Finally, when she was able to keep the blade up out of the dirt for more than 5 seconds at a time, Nurbryn tried a variation on a ready position she'd seen Guard members do in practice, but the weight of the axehead and the length of the haft made it too hard to maintain and she was forced to set the blade down again after only a few moments, the weight again shifting her a little off balance.

But with time.... yeah, she could make use of a weapon like this.  She prepared to attempt another lift, ignoring the continued sniggers, when the sound of a Chantry bell came from the direction of town.

Oh right, she had things she should be doing.

"Shit!" Nurbryn let go of the axe suddenly, letting the haft hit the ground, and started running home.  "Thanks for letting me borrow the axe! I'm gonna get one just like it later," she yelled as she disappeared from their view.

[spyderqueen]

WHEN YOU SEE THIS, SHARE 3 LINES FROM A WIP

"Close your mouth for a moment," she instructed, leaning over him.

"So since when do you get to give orders in the bedroom anyway, kadan?”

"Since you couldn't stand up without getting dizzy and almost falling down. Now close your damn mouth."

[spyderqueen]

So, for OC day, a last minute dump of something I’ve had drafted out for a like a year now.

Commander Cullen had immense respect for Inquisitor Cadash as a leader. She would carefully listen to experts and advisors before making a decision that she felt took all points into consideration, and once made, she did not waste time second guessing her choices; which wasn’t to say she didn't take failure as hard as anyone else. He'd certainly disagreed with her on a number of operations, but found that, when he asked about it later, he couldn't fault her logic even if they didn't see eye to eye on certain details.

She'd be the first to share credit for successes and the first to steal blame for failures. She was quick to see which people would respond well to carefully formed responses straight from etiquette texts, and which people needed to hear a sharp-tongued remark instead.

He once wondered why the Carta had wasted a natural leader like her on stash-running and spying. Well, their loss became the Inquisition’s gain.

But it wasn't until right now though that he realized he'd never seen her in combat. He'd been helping evacuate people when Corypheus brought the fight to Haven, and he hadn't been near enough to the rift when they made the first attempts to close the breach. He'd been helping with the perimeters when they took Adamant.

So right now, as they worked on the last of the Red Templars defending the Shrine of Dumat, was the first time he'd ever seen her technique at work.

"Maker, she’s..." He tried to find the right words for what he was seeing.

"A complete lunatic?" Dorian supplied helpfully, trying to cast a barrier on her as she leapt over one of the stone railings in her charge towards a red lyrium Shadow that had turned in the other direction to take on Bull. It never quite would know what had hit it.

"Not exactly the words I had been looking for." He spotted a Templar archer taking aim at the mage and quickly raised his shield arm to block the shot.

"Really? It should have been," Dorian blasted the archer in retaliation while it struggled to notch another arrow. "You should ask Sera about that time in Emprise when we were surprised by that dragon. I'd tell the tale, but it needs Sera's particular artistry with profanity to do it justice."

"Friggin' animal noises in the middle of the night. Scare me right out of bed," Sera muttered while launching 4 arrows off at once. They neatly pinned down the Red Templars in place to be mowed through by the Inquisitor, who was counter-balancing her weight against the weight of her axe blade as she spun a lacerating circle through them.

"No, the part of the story before that part," Dorian sighed almost dismissively casting some spell towards one of the templars that had gotten free from the Inquisitor’s spin. Whichever spell it was, the target suddenly panicked and in his terrified state blindly ran right into Iron Bull who was obviously pleased with that particular error.

Cullen made a quick tactical decision to not ask Dorian or Sera to clarify and focused instead on the man who had charged towards their archer. It clearly had been some desperate final rush and ended up only gaining the red templar a sword to its chest and an arrow in its face.

"But yes," Dorian continued, "where battles and missions are concerned, she's tactically brilliant. You've seen that." He paused for a moment to set off a chain of lightning across the very few remaining foes in the vestibule. "But for skirmishes like this," he said, as if a temple full of former Templars enhanced with that horrific malformed lyrium was nothing more than a bar fight, "I'm afraid her tactics are best summarized as 'Step One: Charge in yelling. Step Two: Hit something until it stops moving. Step Three: Stop hitting it. Repeat steps Two and Three as needed.'"

"Don't knock it," Iron Bull grumbled, slamming their final opponent into the floor, "it works for her."

"Yes, well, you would think that,” Dorian replied with a slight smirk, “But it's not exactly something that works as a surprise attack."

"Wouldn't say that. A dwarf charging at you, full speed, with a weapon as big as she is? It can be pretty surprising."

Sera laughed, "They make the best faces too! 'Is that a human charging from a distance? Shit, it isn't, it's a dwarf from up close! Fuck, I'm dead'." She laughed again. "Funny."

Inquisitor Cadash stepped over the body of... well, even before the point of its demise, any resemblance to a Templar was long gone, and approached them with a raised eyebrow.  A red spray of blood had bisected one of the thick green lines of her facial brands, making her look impressively fierce. "I’m sorry,” she snapped, “have you been mocking your Inquisitor this entire fight?"

"No!"

"Yup."

"Duh."

"Naturally."

He had briefly been taken aback by the Inquisitor’s reaction but it was only momentary; usually she could only maintain a stern facade for a few seconds before it cracked, typically with the right corner of her mouth quirking upwards in the start of a smile. Still, best to share the thread of conversation with her anyway. "I had just been observing your fighting technique.  It's... not quite what I had expected."

"Ah," she nodded, swinging her axe up behind her so the haft rested on both her shoulders behind her neck.  "Well, I cut my teeth on intentionally setting off bar fights or street melees to distract the city guard from what the Carta was pushing through so, yes. It's probably a style that defies any level of common sense."

"Damn, I'd have loved to see one of those brawls," Iron Bull grinned down at her.

She gave a quick tilt of her head in his direction, complete with a wink and a sly twitch of her lips. "Get one of these Red assholes to call me 'Short-arse' in an Ostwick accent while drunkenly trying to stick their hand down my armor and I'll see what I can do.”

Bull laughed. "Minx."

Another flirtatious twitch of the lips in response and she then turned to indicate the door ahead of them. "We should move before anyone decides to check on their, uh" she nudged something probably once attached to a body with her foot, "welcoming committee."

The door burst open before they even took another step towards it. Filling the doorway was a goliath of moving red lyrium crystals, showing nothing that indicated it had once been human.  The beast stood there menacingly, but for the moment did not appear to notice their presence, actually giving them a chance to form some sort of tactical assault on it.

Cullen turned to the Inquisitor to go over a possible plan of attack against the lyrium behemoth, only to see she was no longer standing there. He looked back in the direction of the shrine’s doorway to confirm that yes, she was already charging in with great-axe at the ready, The Iron Bull not far behind her.

As he charged in to assist  he heard Dorian remark behind him, “As I said, ‘lunatic’.”

[piperholmes]

currently working on a rollisi fic for Star-Struck Victim. Just a tag-on but hopefully I will have time to finish tomorrow.