#sort of angsty?

[two-cell-appless]

Kind of angsty Dreamtale comic!

I got burnt out towards the end

My own fault for starting so late-

Bonus on nightmare

[shannaraisles]

March Madness - Day 6

Withered

Grief turned to joy, turned to quiet terror. Bryland was alive. Elinar was alive. Lothering had sheltered them in the aftermath of the battle, but ...

Dermot knelt beside his sister’s feverish form, wrapped in a bedroll beside the fire. She had been injured in the battle, her left hand mangled beyond repair by the cruel mutilation of a hurlock’s mace, infected with the Blight just enough to make the limb wither and shrink into a twisted, gnarled tangle of fingers and thumb, ice pale flesh streaked with black. Morrigan’s intervention had prevented the spread of the Blight any further, but Dermot knew his sister. To be withered in such a way ... it would do more harm than losing their parents had done.

But she was alive.

He stroked her hair back from her brow, barely glancing up as Bryland rejoined him, passing over a cup of hot soup from the pot over the fire. Together the brothers kept a vigil over their feverish sister, each praying in their own way to have her delivered from this sickness.

The Cousland line had withered enough for one lifetime.

[thehuggamugcafe]

h-okay, how about ??/#/$, where Akira or Ren get drunk-txted by a random stranger college student who is DEAD CERTAIN that this number if for a pizza chain and that he would like to order a large extra sasuage pizza and keeps trying to wire them money to pay for it -take my money and feed me dammit!!

OOC: Hello and good day, dear anon! Welcome to the Huggamug Café!

I had no idea that I needed this ask? Thank you for the suggestion!

I’m going with Akira for this one, since the cheeky goof would just roll with it. I imagine Ren is more serious in situations like this. I couldn’t quite come up with a way to make this drunk college student trying to wire Akira the money, but I hope it’s to your satisfaction!

One order of a random/accidental/drunk text coming right up! Cheers! ☕

Be-be-beep.

Obsidian eyes glanced away from the flashing television screen, setting the old-school game controller aside as he got up from the chair he sat in. The rickety seat made a groaning creak as his weight was relieved of it, walking over to where his cellphone lay.

It lit up as it buzzed, alerting him to a message.

Be-be-beep.

Another text.

Be-be-beep.

Another text.

Curious, he picked the buzzing device up, feeling the phone vibrating as he held it.

You have four new messages from…

He quietly read the number, and the caller, neither of which he recognized.

His curiosity didn’t fade away, and he didn’t feel suspicious or threatened.

He clicked on the first message, raising a brow at it.

“Hewwo?”

“Is this that pizza joint in Shibuya?”

“I wanna large…”

“With extra sausaze, plz.”

Akira blinked as he quickly typed in a message, replying to the stranger’s messages.

“Hello?”

“Hiya! Hewwo agai’! I placed my order!”

“’Order’?”

Akira would be lying if he said he wasn’t smirking.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t feel like teasing someone, all in good-natured jest, of course.

“Yeah! I heard your pizza is teh shit!”

“Don’t you mean ‘the shit’?”

“It’s rude to swear to a customer, sir/ma’am.”

Akira struggled to bite back a snicker, his fingers flying across the keypad as the stranger kept typing. Whoever they were, their words reeked of inebriation.

“I’m kinda lonely…”

“I don’ drink a lot… Or get drunk that often…”

“I do sometimes… To forget the pain of my girlfriend cheating on me, y’know?”

Akira’s lips pursed to a thin, tight line, feeling sorry for the drunk stranger.

“Hey. Hey! Have you ever… ever been cheated on, sir/ma’am?”

“No. Never.”

“Lucky~. I bet your girl’s a damn angel!”

“Look… I’m sorry, but this isn’t a pizza joint. I can give you their number if you want?”

No response.

“Hello? Sir? Ma’am? Whoever you are… Are you okay?”

“Zzzzzz.”

They must’ve fallen asleep and their finger’s resting on the ‘z’ button.

Akira’s lips became pursed, debating over what to do next.

Sighing, he sat on his bed, quickly dialing his boss’s number.

It was going to be a long night, but he was sure that his employer knew or knew of someone. Someone who knew this random stranger.

He wanted to make sure that they were okay, at least.

[shannaraisles]

In Marcher Fields - Chapter 23

Poppy Hawke was never the daughter her mother wanted, the sister her twin preferred, the hero Kirkwall desired. They do not see the woman who stands between them and the chaos that threatens. No one takes the time to look, until she crosses the path of a certain Knight-Captain with demons of his own to battle …

[Read on AO3]

9:42 Dragon, Solace

Skyhold was so quiet without the majority of the Inquisition in residence.

Poppy was uncomfortably reminded of Kirkwall in the days following the Qunari invasion, a population discovering slowly just how much had been lost in the chaos, a stillness covering everything for days. There was no such mourning here and now, of course - indeed, the Inquisition had just achieved a victory over Corypheus in the Arbor Wilds. But most of the Inquisition were still in the Arbor Wilds, dealing with prisoners, ferrying the wounded safely out of harm's way. The only reason she was in Skyhold was because she had outright refused to be left behind when Cullen had joined the rest of Xena's inner circle to rush ahead to the fortress.

But there was a restlessness hanging over Skyhold. Corypheus' army had been defeated, not Corypheus himself. No one knew better than Poppy that he would not give up so easily.

She pushed away from the gatehouse battlements, turning back to look into the lower courtyard, quietly agitated in herself. Xena and her advisors were closeted in the war room; the rest of the inner circle were in their accustomed places around the fortress, each waiting to be told what the next step would entail. A skeleton crew of guards and servants made the fortress seem far less populous than it had been just a few weeks before. But that lack of people made unknown faces very easy to spot.

It was a dwarf that had caught her attention. Ordinarily, dwarves were a regular sight in Skyhold, the much-needed connection to the lyrium supply from Orzammar, but this one ... there was something furtive in the way he moved. He walked with purpose, certainly, but kept glancing around, as though expecting to be challenged at any moment. Poppy's eyes narrowed.

Best not to disappoint him, then.

Passing through the unused gatehouse and down the steps into the upper courtyard, she lengthened her stride to intercept the furtive dwarf as he reached the top of the wide steps from the lower courtyard. He stuttered out an apology as she ran into him, barely catching his breath before her hand clamped onto his shoulder and dragged him back under the arch of the stairway that lead to the keep proper. Bearded and tattooed - Carta, or casteless-turned-exile, she realized - the dwarf glared up at her as Poppy pressed him against the stone.

"Who sent you?" she asked, pleasant enough for the time being.

"Messenger from the camp," he answered her in a gruff tone, though she noted he was clever enough not to try and pull out of her grasp.

"Nice try," Poppy countered. "But you're not wearing any insignia I recognize, and you move like someone worried about being caught. Now ... there are two people who could have sent you that immediately spring to mind. One of them will result in you being put in the cells; the other will result in you turning around and taking a message back from me. Lying to me will result in more than a few bruises. You look like a clever lad. So who sent you?"

She could see the options flickering through the dwarf's mind - was his employer worth getting himself beaten up by the Champion of Kirkwall? No one was worth that. Inviting the woman who had killed the Arishok to kick the Void out of you was stupidity worthy of a prize, and they both knew it. He sagged a little under her grip, pulling a neatly-folded letter from his pocket. Poppy glanced at the initial written on it, and felt a part of herself growl. Bianca.

"Where is she?" she demanded, her grip tightening on the dwarf's shoulder. "In the camp?"

He winced at the bite of her fingers through his cloak. "Not here, messare," he swore vehemently. "Traveling with her husband."

"But she found the time to write this and send it here," Poppy pointed out with a scowl. She considered her captive for a moment. "Are you her courier of choice?"

The dwarf cleared his throat awkwardly. "For Ferelden and the Marches," he told her. "Personal courier."

"How many of these letters have you delivered to Varric over the years?" she asked suspiciously.

"Too many," he admitted. "It's steady money, messare."

Poppy paused, thinking over her options. She knew that Varric had called it off with Bianca, not simply because he had begun a relationship with Xena - who, in her opinion, deserved her friend infinitely more than the smith who had kept him hanging for years - but also because he had shown her the letter he had sent to Bianca making his position absolutely clear. That Bianca would disregard his request to cut all ties was enough to make Poppy angry. But she could see a way to deal with it while preserving Varric's opinion of the woman he had once loved.

"That steady money should have dried up already," she told him honestly. "Varric wants nothing more to do with her, and I will not allow my friend to be badgered and prodded at by someone who forfeited her right to his attention years ago. I am going to burn this letter. You are going to assure her that you delivered it. I am sure she'll send another one when she gets no reply. You will burn it. You will burn every letter she gives you to give to Varric, and you will swear blind that you delivered them. And I won't hunt you down and make you regret ever lying to me. Are we clear?"

His eyes narrowed as he looked up at her. "What do I get out of this, messare?"

Poppy bent down until she was glaring into his eyes from barely an inch away, her voice low with menace. "To walk away."

The dwarf swallowed, apparently not needing much time to weigh his options at this point. An offer to have your ability to walk removed by a human legend in her own lifetime could do that.

"Right you are, Messare Hawke," he agreed. "Tethras won't get another letter from her via my hands."

"Glad to hear it." Poppy straightened, removing her hand from his shoulder, and jerked her head back toward the gatehouse and the bridge to the mechanized lift. "Sod off."

The unfortunate messenger did just that, taking the steps back down to the lower courtyard a good deal faster than he'd come up them. Poppy frowned, looking down at the letter in her hands. It was so tempting to open it, to find out exactly what Bianca thought she was doing, but at the same time ... these were private words. They were words that were not meant for anyone but Varric, and though Poppy had no intention of letting him find out they had ever been written, she wouldn't betray her friend by reading them.

"Although it really doesn't surprise me that she doesn't understand what the word "no" means," she muttered to herself, inserting one corner of the folded and sealed parchment into the flame of the nearest torch.

And, without warning, green light flashed across the world, a ponderous crack of thunder following it as high above the clouds swirled, horribly familiar to anyone who had looked up at the sky following the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The burning parchment dropped from Poppy's fingers as he head snapped up, hearing the cursing that rose from everyone in this outer area.

Corypheus.

So he had surfaced. Too arrogant to run and hide, to lick his wounds and try again years from now, he was forcing a confrontation. And by the look of things, he had gone back to Haven to reopen the Breach.

She felt a flare of anger that her mistake had come back to haunt so many people all over again, her feet already moving toward the armory. She wasn't the only one headed in that direction - Iron Bull, Sera, Blackwall; they were all moving to collect their weapons, expecting to accompany the Inquisitor to this final confrontation. Poppy glanced up at the window of the war room, seeing Josephine's frightened face, Leliana's impassive wariness at her back.

A few minutes later, and she was ducking out of the armory, settling her armor and weapons about herself, unsurprised to be stepping aside as Xena and Varric hurried past her to arm themselves. Servants were bustling, throwing together packs for the journey down to the site of the Inquisition's first defeat; on the other side of the bailey, she could hear Master Dennet and his grooms preparing the mounts for their party. And there was Cullen, stone-faced, worry in his eyes as she tightened the last buckle and moved to join him for these few moments.

"I have to go," she told him before he could open his mouth to argue. "Corypheus was my mistake in the first place. I have to be there."

"I know." Cullen's sigh was heavy, but accepting, his hands falling to her shoulders as he looked into her eyes. "I want to come with you, but ..."

She reached up, gently curling her fingers to his cheek. "I know," she promised, drawing him down to press her brow to his. "We're going to win this, Cullen. I am coming back."

"Maker, please ..."

Heedless of any curious eyes that might turn to them, he pulled her into his arms, burying his face in the crook of her neck as she wrapped her own arms tight about him. She could feel him trembling, knew he could feel her shaking in answer. This was a fight she might not come back from ... but she refused to admit that aloud. She had lost too much not to have earned her happy ending. Not even Corypheus was going to keep her from having that promised home with her husband at long last. She just had to see this through to the end that loomed over them.

"Hawke."

Varric's voice as he passed, his hand on her back, drew her out of that embrace, a warning that there would be no waiting for her if she missed their departure. Cullen stiffened, his lips warm against her temple before he let her step back. No more words - everything that needed to be said between them had been said too many times before. All that remained was hope; hope that there would be no more need for such words when she returned again.

Poppy nodded to her husband, falling into step with the rest of Xena's motley crew, all of them somber with the knowledge that this really was the final confrontation. Riding out of Skyhold, turning their faces to the looming threat of the Breach, they all knew just one thing ... it was Corypheus or the world.

No more chances.

[audiovisualrecall]

Aka: Seeing Double (by me)

AN: New chapter is up! Connor and the clone of him meet, and Abby's lost... and not alone. Clone!connor releases Conn from the cell and they go looking for Abby...