nirikeehan

[nirikeehan]

I'm just going to quietly set this down here and let it speak for itself.

[nirikeehan]

don't leave this in the tags fine stranger

do please tell me more *chinhands*

For CULLEN AND LUCANIS 👀👀👀 "Show me how great is your will to survive." (Epic prompts) AND Respects survival of the fittest (solar system prompts)

Thank you for the prompt; I really wanted to shove these two into a scene and see what happened lol.

For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 1457

---

The Crow had skill, but lacked discipline.

Cullen felt a headache coming on every time he ran practice drills and saw the name Dellamorte on the recruit roster. There was a reason the Inquisition had never dealt with the infamous Antivan Crows. They had too much pride, and were too accustomed to acting with impunity. In Cullen’s mind, they were little better than mercenaries. Those who sold their blades to the highest bidder were all the same, whether they had fancy titles or not.

Worse, add one to a standing army and disaster was all but assured. Cullen did the rounds on their new training grounds, in a copse of woods outside Val Royeaux. Captain Rylen was in tow, taking notes on the Aviary soldiers who had qualified for the springtime war games. As usual, when they reached the battalion containing Lucanis Dellamorte, the black-clad Crow stood apart with lethal smugness, examining a dagger while the rest scowled in his general direction.

“What’s going on here?” Cullen asked, although he already had an inkling.

“The Crow broke formation,” complained one of the soldiers, the son of a man Cullen had known since Kirkwall. “We had a plan, and he deviated.”

“I had to improvise,” Lucanis shot back. “We would have never captured the flag if someone didn’t act.”

“You were supposed to be protecting the flank. We were sitting ducks on that hill. If you hadn’t climbed that tree—”

“The other team would have won,” Lucanis insisted.

“Enough,” Cullen cut in. Rylen stood beside him, taking copious notes on his clipboard and parchment. Their section on Lucanis was already ten pages long. “Dellamorte, see me inside my tent.”

Lucanis gave Cullen an exacting glare and didn’t move.

Cullen narrowed his eyes. “That wasn’t a suggestion, agent.”

He turned, nodding to Rylen, who knew to continue the inspection alone. Cullen strode toward his tent on the edge of the meadow. He heard a muttering in Antivan as Lucanis followed. “You’re lucky I don’t understand what names you’re calling me,” Cullen added, “though I don’t think it’ll save you from a reprimand.”

After that, the younger man fell silent.

The general’s tent reminded Cullen of the old days in Haven, something that filled him with both nostalgia and trepidation. The failures of the early Inquisition still haunted him, though he reminded himself that this time they had much better backing in the form of the Divine. Leliana herself had negotiated this space for the Aviary’s army, now that they were on good terms with Empress Celene. The reason for this followed Cullen through the tent flap like a cold, black wind.

Cullen sat down heavily at his desk, scattered with maps, missives, and requisition reports. His faithful mabari, Garlic, lie on the rug in front of the wood stove. Lucanis’s stoic demeanor flickered slightly when he noticed the dog. That was right; Thalia had told Cullen — after the inner council meeting when they’d argued about letting the Crow enlist in the first place, she had found Lucanis in one of the Grand Cathedral’s many courtyards, making fast friends with Garlic. This had, for some bizarre reason, given her sufficient reason to accept the Crow into their ranks. Cullen had not been swayed, but knew when both Leliana and Thalia were against him, there was little he could do. And now he was dealing with the consequences.

Garlic lifted his head, looking eagerly at Lucanis while his butt began to wiggle. Cullen shook his head and said sharply, “Hey.” Whining, Garlic lowered his head again, looking up at Cullen with sad eyes. Cullen stifled a sigh; he wasn’t going to let a mabari undercut his own authority to one of his soldiers.

Cullen folded his hands on the desk’s surface and studied Lucanis. He was of a lither and lankier build than the stock that used to become Templars. He had a narrow face, long hair tied back, and despite sporting a full beard, an adolescent quality to his slouching shoulders and sulking silences.

“Well,” Cullen said sternly, “would you like to explain yourself?”

Experience had taught him to give the soldier the floor, to listen before judging — as hard as it was with this one. They had dealt with Lucanis inconsistently since he’d joined, to everyone’s detriment. At first, the agreement was that the Crow was to be treated the same as any low level recruit, skill level aside. That would, Cullen had hoped, teach him to respect his new institution. But behavioral problems had plagued Lucanis Dellamorte since day one. Instead of disciplining him properly, Leliana had awarded him and that hanger-on cousin of his a special contract to assassinate the exiled Gaspard de Chalons. The success of which had clearly gone to his head.

“You have put children in charge of your war games,” Lucanis said, without a hint of deference. “They could not analyze a tactical map if the Maker himself came to offer guidance.”

Cullen sighed. “Perhaps you’ve failed to grasp the point of a war game, Agent Dellamorte. It’s that so everyone involved can learn something.”

Lucanis stared at him, uncomprehending.

“Ser Caleb is your battalion captain, yes?” Cullen prompted. He was indeed young, barely one-and-twenty, but he had a good head on his shoulders and a proper sense of duty. Of the kind that would have thrived in the Templar Order before its dissolution.

“Yeah,” Lucanis said suspiciously, as if being lured into a trap.

“Has it occurred to you that maybe we gave him the position so that he could practice the skills you’re criticizing him for not having developed yet?”

Lucanis blinked, a confused scowl crossing his face. “That is not a pragmatic move.”

“Why? Because among your kind, the subpar are simply eliminated before they can learn?”

Lucanis opened his mouth and closed it again. Cullen leaned back in his seat, suppressing a satisfied smirk.

“That is not what I meant,” Lucanis said finally.

“Isn’t it?” Cullen crossed his arms over his chest.

Lucanis sniffed and looked at his boots.

“You aren’t dealing with the Crows anymore,” Cullen reminded him. “Here, we are trying to develop soldiers’ potential, not ruthlessly weed out those who don’t measure up. You should be grateful for that; it’s the only reason you’re still here.”

Lucanis looked up sharply, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course I know you can plan infiltrations better than anyone here,” Cullen continued. “Have you stopped for one second to wonder what exactly it was we wanted you to learn in this exercise?”

Lucanis glanced, absurdly, toward Garlic, as if the mabari could provide some insight. When all Garlic did was open his mouth and happily slobber on the carpet, Lucanis returned his gaze to Cullen.

“No,” he admitted, begrudgingly.

“Teamwork, for a start,” Cullen replied. “And how to take orders.”

“I know these things,” Lucanis protested.

Cullen snorted. “Working with your cousin — what’s his name? Illario? That doesn’t count. Two assassins aren’t a team. And if you knew how to take an order, I suspect you wouldn’t be here in the first place. You’d still be in Antiva, serving your grandmother. Or am I wrong?”

Lucanis took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He took to pacing the small space between Cullen’s desk and the wood stove, making Garlic watch him with interest, head volleying back and forth.

“You are not wrong,” Lucanis admitted at last.

“Our fight against Solas is just beginning,” Cullen said softly. “If you want to be able to participate in it, you will need to unlearn most of the tactics that make you such a formidable solo fighter. Or at least recognize when to turn them on and off.”

The Crow shot him an incredulous look, but eventually, his eyes softened. “Fine. Fine.” He glanced toward the tent flap. “Am I dismissed?”

“Not yet,” Cullen said, grabbing for a free piece of parchment and a quill. He scribbled quickly once he located his ink pot. “Kitchen and cleanup duty for the next week. And be thankful it’s not longer.”

Lucanis scowled. “Yes.”

Cullen raised his eyebrows. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, General.”

“Better.” Cullen held out the missive. “Give this to the cook when you report for duty.”

Lucanis snatched it and tucked it away in his long black coat.

“Now you’re free to go,” Cullen said.

The Crow didn’t move.

“Anything else?” Cullen prompted him.

“Mm.” Lucanis’s gaze dropped to Garlic. “May I…?” His hand twitched in the air above the mabari.

Cullen snapped, “No.”

“Right. Bye.” The assassin whirled, slipping soundlessly out of the tent.

Garlic fixed Cullen with an imploring stare and whined. Cullen reached down to scratch behind his ears. “You have got to stop making me look bad, boy,” he grumbled.

[nirikeehan]

old poem for a good girl..

[Transcript:

Laika to Ground Control I don’t suppose you’re coming back for me but I don’t mind, it’s nice out here. You said before I launched: there’s no way back —I’m a halfway thing, more bullet than dog out into the dark morning and forever to this black field where Great Canine winks her distant starry eye. Empty as the space that lies between two barks. Full to bursting.

Laika to Ground Control can I chase my tail? I know you want me to sit still but it’s calling me, just for a second, please. I can see our planet from here smooth like the wind washed it soft and blue, we’re going round, I’m having the time of my life you don’t have to worry but can I chase my tail? There’s nothing here for me to knock over. I miss you. But I don’t mind, in a hold silver as this any mongrel can be a heroine; any stray can make history.

Laika to Ground Control [BACKGROUND STATIC] sorry, I forgot what I was going to say, Laika to Ground Control from above Earth is alive at night, light golden as a million miniature suns, makeshift constellations. What do I look like from below? Do I glimmer like a freckle or an exit wound? I’ve been sitting still. You don’t have to worry. I miss you.

Laika to Ground Control they have summer in space, did you know? The hours walk warmer and warmer, the ceiling gleams with June moons begging for a howl. I’m lonely, moons don’t howl back. I would sit still for years if it meant I could go back to you. I miss you. I don’t mind. I miss you though.

Laika to Ground Control I miss you. If you would come out here and pet me I swear to Dog I’ll be good, never bark again, you’ll have to find me a new name. Kometka, little comet, maybe, I would crash into the sea to swim to your side. Be your satellite. You’re bigger than Earth in my eyes, I don’t need stars, only you.

Laika to Ground Control there are pinpricks of light behind my eyes. Hot like a bite. The world is fast and unbreakable, and I’m just a dog. And I miss you.

Laika to Ground Control I miss you. Have I told you that yet? Out there in the silk-black nothing they’ve long forgotten what time is. In here time crawls. In here everything shimmers, in here it’s just me. I think I’m dying. You don’t have to worry, I was nothing and you swung me from alley to orbit, from the dirt to the stars. I don’t mind. I just miss you. I miss you like the space that lies between two breaths. Full to burning.]

[nirikeehan]

𝙻𝙰𝙸𝙺𝙰 𝚃𝙾 𝙶𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝚁𝙾𝙻 — I miss you , Have I told you that yet?

[nirikeehan]

For CULLEN AND LUCANIS 👀👀👀 "Show me how great is your will to survive." (Epic prompts) AND Respects survival of the fittest (solar system prompts)

Thank you for the prompt; I really wanted to shove these two into a scene and see what happened lol.

For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 1457

---

The Crow had skill, but lacked discipline.

Cullen felt a headache coming on every time he ran practice drills and saw the name Dellamorte on the recruit roster. There was a reason the Inquisition had never dealt with the infamous Antivan Crows. They had too much pride, and were too accustomed to acting with impunity. In Cullen’s mind, they were little better than mercenaries. Those who sold their blades to the highest bidder were all the same, whether they had fancy titles or not.

Worse, add one to a standing army and disaster was all but assured. Cullen did the rounds on their new training grounds, in a copse of woods outside Val Royeaux. Captain Rylen was in tow, taking notes on the Aviary soldiers who had qualified for the springtime war games. As usual, when they reached the battalion containing Lucanis Dellamorte, the black-clad Crow stood apart with lethal smugness, examining a dagger while the rest scowled in his general direction.

“What’s going on here?” Cullen asked, although he already had an inkling.

“The Crow broke formation,” complained one of the soldiers, the son of a man Cullen had known since Kirkwall. “We had a plan, and he deviated.”

“I had to improvise,” Lucanis shot back. “We would have never captured the flag if someone didn’t act.”

“You were supposed to be protecting the flank. We were sitting ducks on that hill. If you hadn’t climbed that tree—”

“The other team would have won,” Lucanis insisted.

“Enough,” Cullen cut in. Rylen stood beside him, taking copious notes on his clipboard and parchment. Their section on Lucanis was already ten pages long. “Dellamorte, see me inside my tent.”

Lucanis gave Cullen an exacting glare and didn’t move.

Cullen narrowed his eyes. “That wasn’t a suggestion, agent.”

He turned, nodding to Rylen, who knew to continue the inspection alone. Cullen strode toward his tent on the edge of the meadow. He heard a muttering in Antivan as Lucanis followed. “You’re lucky I don’t understand what names you’re calling me,” Cullen added, “though I don’t think it’ll save you from a reprimand.”

After that, the younger man fell silent.

The general’s tent reminded Cullen of the old days in Haven, something that filled him with both nostalgia and trepidation. The failures of the early Inquisition still haunted him, though he reminded himself that this time they had much better backing in the form of the Divine. Leliana herself had negotiated this space for the Aviary’s army, now that they were on good terms with Empress Celene. The reason for this followed Cullen through the tent flap like a cold, black wind.

Cullen sat down heavily at his desk, scattered with maps, missives, and requisition reports. His faithful mabari, Garlic, lie on the rug in front of the wood stove. Lucanis’s stoic demeanor flickered slightly when he noticed the dog. That was right; Thalia had told Cullen — after the inner council meeting when they’d argued about letting the Crow enlist in the first place, she had found Lucanis in one of the Grand Cathedral’s many courtyards, making fast friends with Garlic. This had, for some bizarre reason, given her sufficient reason to accept the Crow into their ranks. Cullen had not been swayed, but knew when both Leliana and Thalia were against him, there was little he could do. And now he was dealing with the consequences.

Garlic lifted his head, looking eagerly at Lucanis while his butt began to wiggle. Cullen shook his head and said sharply, “Hey.” Whining, Garlic lowered his head again, looking up at Cullen with sad eyes. Cullen stifled a sigh; he wasn’t going to let a mabari undercut his own authority to one of his soldiers.

Cullen folded his hands on the desk’s surface and studied Lucanis. He was of a lither and lankier build than the stock that used to become Templars. He had a narrow face, long hair tied back, and despite sporting a full beard, an adolescent quality to his slouching shoulders and sulking silences.

“Well,” Cullen said sternly, “would you like to explain yourself?”

Experience had taught him to give the soldier the floor, to listen before judging — as hard as it was with this one. They had dealt with Lucanis inconsistently since he’d joined, to everyone’s detriment. At first, the agreement was that the Crow was to be treated the same as any low level recruit, skill level aside. That would, Cullen had hoped, teach him to respect his new institution. But behavioral problems had plagued Lucanis Dellamorte since day one. Instead of disciplining him properly, Leliana had awarded him and that hanger-on cousin of his a special contract to assassinate the exiled Gaspard de Chalons. The success of which had clearly gone to his head.

“You have put children in charge of your war games,” Lucanis said, without a hint of deference. “They could not analyze a tactical map if the Maker himself came to offer guidance.”

Cullen sighed. “Perhaps you’ve failed to grasp the point of a war game, Agent Dellamorte. It’s that so everyone involved can learn something.”

Lucanis stared at him, uncomprehending.

“Ser Caleb is your battalion captain, yes?” Cullen prompted. He was indeed young, barely one-and-twenty, but he had a good head on his shoulders and a proper sense of duty. Of the kind that would have thrived in the Templar Order before its dissolution.

“Yeah,” Lucanis said suspiciously, as if being lured into a trap.

“Has it occurred to you that maybe we gave him the position so that he could practice the skills you’re criticizing him for not having developed yet?”

Lucanis blinked, a confused scowl crossing his face. “That is not a pragmatic move.”

“Why? Because among your kind, the subpar are simply eliminated before they can learn?”

Lucanis opened his mouth and closed it again. Cullen leaned back in his seat, suppressing a satisfied smirk.

“That is not what I meant,” Lucanis said finally.

“Isn’t it?” Cullen crossed his arms over his chest.

Lucanis sniffed and looked at his boots.

“You aren’t dealing with the Crows anymore,” Cullen reminded him. “Here, we are trying to develop soldiers’ potential, not ruthlessly weed out those who don’t measure up. You should be grateful for that; it’s the only reason you’re still here.”

Lucanis looked up sharply, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course I know you can plan infiltrations better than anyone here,” Cullen continued. “Have you stopped for one second to wonder what exactly it was we wanted you to learn in this exercise?”

Lucanis glanced, absurdly, toward Garlic, as if the mabari could provide some insight. When all Garlic did was open his mouth and happily slobber on the carpet, Lucanis returned his gaze to Cullen.

“No,” he admitted, begrudgingly.

“Teamwork, for a start,” Cullen replied. “And how to take orders.”

“I know these things,” Lucanis protested.

Cullen snorted. “Working with your cousin — what’s his name? Illario? That doesn’t count. Two assassins aren’t a team. And if you knew how to take an order, I suspect you wouldn’t be here in the first place. You’d still be in Antiva, serving your grandmother. Or am I wrong?”

Lucanis took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He took to pacing the small space between Cullen’s desk and the wood stove, making Garlic watch him with interest, head volleying back and forth.

“You are not wrong,” Lucanis admitted at last.

“Our fight against Solas is just beginning,” Cullen said softly. “If you want to be able to participate in it, you will need to unlearn most of the tactics that make you such a formidable solo fighter. Or at least recognize when to turn them on and off.”

The Crow shot him an incredulous look, but eventually, his eyes softened. “Fine. Fine.” He glanced toward the tent flap. “Am I dismissed?”

“Not yet,” Cullen said, grabbing for a free piece of parchment and a quill. He scribbled quickly once he located his ink pot. “Kitchen and cleanup duty for the next week. And be thankful it’s not longer.”

Lucanis scowled. “Yes.”

Cullen raised his eyebrows. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, General.”

“Better.” Cullen held out the missive. “Give this to the cook when you report for duty.”

Lucanis snatched it and tucked it away in his long black coat.

“Now you’re free to go,” Cullen said.

The Crow didn’t move.

“Anything else?” Cullen prompted him.

“Mm.” Lucanis’s gaze dropped to Garlic. “May I…?” His hand twitched in the air above the mabari.

Cullen snapped, “No.”

“Right. Bye.” The assassin whirled, slipping soundlessly out of the tent.

Garlic fixed Cullen with an imploring stare and whined. Cullen reached down to scratch behind his ears. “You have got to stop making me look bad, boy,” he grumbled.

[nirikeehan]

Epic: The Musical Prompts - Part 1

For keeping track of personal prompt fills. Rebloggable version here.

The Troy Saga

What do you fight for?

A vision of what is to come cannot be outrun, can only be dealt with right here and now.

I don't think you're ready.

If you don't end him now, you'll have no one left to save.

Please don't make me do this.

The blood on your hands is something you won't lose. All you can choose is whose.

When does a ripple become a tidal wave? When does the reason become the blame?

When does a man become a monster?

But the problem's not the distance. It's what lies in between.

Tell me, is this how we're supposed to live?

I see in your face, there is so much guilt inside your heart.

Have you forgotten the lessons I taught you?

If you're looking for a mentor, I'll make sure your time's well spent.

Don't forget that you're a warrior of a very special kind.

Don't disappoint me.

The Cyclops Saga

I can't believe this cave has all this for us to keep.

It's almost too perfect, too good to be true.

What gives you the right to deal a pain so deep?

Don't you know that pain you sow is pain you reap?

Yes, you shall be the final man to die.

If we're defeated, they’re good as dead.

No backup, no chance for support. So draw out your swords. Our foe must be thwarted right here and now.

Show me how great is your will to survive.

No dying on me now. Defeat is not allowed.

What are our orders?

Escape is not allowed.

Mark my words now, this is not the end.

What'll we do with our fallen friends?

We are not to let them die in vain.

What good would killing do when mercy is a skill more of this world could learn to use?

The next time that you dare choose not to spare, remember them. Remember us. Remember me.

You were reckless, sentimental at best.

You’ve grown soft; your dead friends can attest.

I don't know where I went wrong.

I'll remind you I saw you as a friend. But now we're done.

The Ocean Saga

Is it nature or divine, or a blessing in disguise?

Brace for a storm.

At this rate, we won't make it out alive.

Please don't tell me you're about to do what I think you'll do.

How much longer til your luck runs out?

I still believe in goodness. I still believe that we could be kind.

And what will we do when it tears us apart?

And suddenly you doubt that I could figure this out?

I can't have you planting seeds of doubt.

I need you to always be devout and comply with this.

Let's play a game. And if you win, you will get what you're yearning.

Sounds too easy, what's the catch?

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

The end always justifies the means.

Friends turn into foes and rivalries.

Never really know who you can trust.

Why are my eyes and my heart and my soul so heavy?

I've gotta make you bleed.

Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves.

You are the worst kind of good cause you're not even great.

You fight to save lives but won't kill and don't get the job done.

Mercy has a price.

Unlike you I've got no mercy left to give.

Today, you die. Unless, of course, you apologize.

The line between naïveté and hopefulness is almost invisible.

The Circe Saga

I have something that I must confess.

No, I'm not a player, I'm a puppeteer.

We have to go save them.

Let's just cut our losses, you and I, and let's run.

I can hardly sleep now knowing everything we've done.

I can only hope you'd do the same.

Wouldn't you like a taste of the power?

Did you do something to them?

If you make one wrong move, then you're done for.

Our fates are intertwined; they're attached.

Everyone's true colours are revealed in acts of lust.

There are other ways of persuasion. There are other modes of control.

The Underworld Saga

All I hear are screams, every time I dare to close my eyes.

Nothing's what it seems.

And here in The Underworld, the past seems close behind.

This land confuses your mind.

I see a song of past romance. I see the sacrifice of man.

I see portrayals of betrayals and a brother's final stand.

I see you on the brink of death. I see you draw your final breath.

I see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it's no longer you.

What if I'm the monster?

If I became the monster, and threw that guilt away, would that make us stronger?

And I'll become the monster like none they've ever known.

So what if I'm the monster lurking deep below?

[nirikeehan]

Epic: The Musical Prompts - Part 1

The Troy Saga

What do you fight for?

A vision of what is to come cannot be outrun, can only be dealt with right here and now.

I don't think you're ready.

If you don't end him now, you'll have no one left to save.

Please don't make me do this.

The blood on your hands is something you won't lose. All you can choose is whose.

When does a ripple become a tidal wave? When does the reason become the blame?

When does a man become a monster?

But the problem's not the distance. It's what lies in between.

Tell me, is this how we're supposed to live?

I see in your face, there is so much guilt inside your heart.

Have you forgotten the lessons I taught you?

If you're looking for a mentor, I'll make sure your time's well spent.

Don't forget that you're a warrior of a very special kind.

Don't disappoint me.

The Cyclops Saga

I can't believe this cave has all this for us to keep.

It's almost too perfect, too good to be true.

What gives you the right to deal a pain so deep?

Don't you know that pain you sow is pain you reap?

Yes, you shall be the final man to die.

If we're defeated, they’re good as dead.

No backup, no chance for support. So draw out your swords. Our foe must be thwarted right here and now.

Show me how great is your will to survive.

No dying on me now. Defeat is not allowed.

What are our orders?

Escape is not allowed.

Mark my words now, this is not the end.

What'll we do with our fallen friends?

We are not to let them die in vain.

What good would killing do when mercy is a skill more of this world could learn to use?

The next time that you dare choose not to spare, remember them. Remember us. Remember me.

You were reckless, sentimental at best.

You’ve grown soft; your dead friends can attest.

I don't know where I went wrong.

I'll remind you I saw you as a friend. But now we're done.

The Ocean Saga

Is it nature or divine, or a blessing in disguise?

Brace for a storm.

At this rate, we won't make it out alive.

Please don't tell me you're about to do what I think you'll do.

How much longer til your luck runs out?

I still believe in goodness. I still believe that we could be kind.

And what will we do when it tears us apart?

And suddenly you doubt that I could figure this out?

I can't have you planting seeds of doubt.

I need you to always be devout and comply with this.

Let's play a game. And if you win, you will get what you're yearning.

Sounds too easy, what's the catch?

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

The end always justifies the means.

Friends turn into foes and rivalries.

Never really know who you can trust.

Why are my eyes and my heart and my soul so heavy?

I've gotta make you bleed.

Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves.

You are the worst kind of good cause you're not even great.

You fight to save lives but won't kill and don't get the job done.

Mercy has a price.

Unlike you I've got no mercy left to give.

Today, you die. Unless, of course, you apologize.

The line between naïveté and hopefulness is almost invisible.

The Circe Saga

I have something that I must confess.

No, I'm not a player, I'm a puppeteer.

We have to go save them.

Let's just cut our losses, you and I, and let's run.

I can hardly sleep now knowing everything we've done.

I can only hope you'd do the same.

Wouldn't you like a taste of the power?

Did you do something to them?

If you make one wrong move, then you're done for.

Our fates are intertwined; they're attached.

Everyone's true colours are revealed in acts of lust.

There are other ways of persuasion. There are other modes of control.

The Underworld Saga

All I hear are screams, every time I dare to close my eyes.

Nothing's what it seems.

And here in The Underworld, the past seems close behind.

This land confuses your mind.

I see a song of past romance. I see the sacrifice of man.

I see portrayals of betrayals and a brother's final stand.

I see you on the brink of death. I see you draw your final breath.

I see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it's no longer you.

What if I'm the monster?

If I became the monster, and threw that guilt away, would that make us stronger?

And I'll become the monster like none they've ever known.

So what if I'm the monster lurking deep below?

[nirikeehan]

Solar System Prompts

Give me 1-3 prompts from the lists below and I'll write a short fic about it. Adapted from a meme I saw going around recently; I don't know who came up with these originally. Let me know if it's you!

SUN

egotistical

melted wax wings and fingers

stretching sunburnt skin

the most generous soul

blood in the fruit

halos

anger on fire

high vitality

thunderous laughter

is pride really a sin?

halogenic aura

MERCURY

expansion of the mind

silver-tongued

an everlasting wanderer

polyglot

high dexterity

handwritten letters

innately critical

en vogue

eyes in the trees

hidden libraries

there’s always room for improvement

VENUS

in love with strangers

iridescent waters

love potions for your mirror

selfless devotion

shattering crystal

seafoam upon sand

the golden ratio

drowning in your own passion

material value & high principles

luring

plush lips

EARTH

fresh springs

tree hugger

we can start again tomorrow

a blazing rainforest

respects survival of the fittest

nature’s adversity

lazy bones

constantly evolving

flowers sprouting from wounds

a granite altar

fossilized remains

MOON

illusory

silver shimmer off the ocean

secrets and gossip

cycles of reincarnation

a crybaby

physically ethereal

shared glances with a stranger

cat eyes

mistrusting their intuition

fear is a prison

ornate magic wands

MARS

healthy competition

attraction and repulsion

magma and rubies

a blade being forged

wrath wrath wrath

malefic

intense eye contact

cannon fodder & fireworks

blood floods

copper taste on your tongue

JUPITER

red robes and a suit of armor

beacon of stability

leader by birth

thunderbolts and lightning

guilty but can’t stop

secret rich kid

golden touch golden tears

innate optimist

failure isn’t an option

constantly reaching for more

unfinished symphonies

SATURN

traditional

overbearing energy

a sculptor of reality

this existence is a karmic one

has a heart it’s just.. way down deep

law, order & justice

avoid all necessary risk

the sound of shackles clanging

sisyphus’ struggle

grappling with the reality of time

self-governing

URANUS

psychedelic funk music

overflowing cups

a rebellion with skin

looking good in photo id

oblivious but caring

middle fingers in the air

double rainbows

icy diamond exterior

holographic

afraid of their own mediocrity

pearlescent smoke

NEPTUNE

an elegy for the lost

dissolving boundaries

white horses

the burden of mystical conditions

deceptive

escapism is their reality

a polarizing entity

artist's soul

paranoia

searching for the unseen

a siren’s swan song

PLUTO

angel statues over graves

power

the cycle of necrosis

transformative

unfathomable depths

an ivory tower toppling over

screaming at the sky

violets and irises

eclipsed darkness

speaks with their shadow

sex, death, rebirth

[nirikeehan]

So idk about you but ever since the Veilguard disaster some of the stories in Tevinter Nights have been hitting different. Like "Callback" by Lukas Kristjanson, where Sutherland and his mates go back to an abandoned Skyhold and fight A DEMON OF REGRET

Just like. ME TOO BUDDY. I'M FIGHTING IT RIGHT NOW

And then the story ends on THIS verse:

By order of the Most Holy, Her Divine Victoria, you who have served are to be commended. And though the Herald guides you no more, and legion and name are retired, know that you served good and true. Change comes, both to and because of the Inquisition. And we are blessed with the ability to accept and move on, to leave dread and regret behind. Know that Skyhold remains, its fires bright. Forevermore it is where you are from, not where you are bound. Attempt no travel there. Let the past guide you to a new direction. And be well.

If that's not an official send off to the series, I don't know what is.

[nirikeehan]

Most attractive male videogame character

[nirikeehan]

[nirikeehan]

you ever see a character and go "wow, this character is so nuanced and morally gray! their actions and morals don't always align! they're complicated and make bad decisions and behave painfully realistically! I hate them and love them at the same time and that's on purpose! they're so cool! .... fan content is going to misinterpret them completely, isn't it."

[nirikeehan]

wip wednesday???

Still recovering from my trip but thanks for the tag @woundedsoul12! Looking back at the last bit of scene I wrote for Meira and Lucanis, staying the weekend at Viago's estate in my oc crossover fic with @wishforhome's Vero. Lucanis is about to leave Meira all alone so of course she has to take things into her own hands (and run into Vero along the way lol).

“Try to be civil, all right?” she asked as he stood and unclipped his sword belt and many knives from his person. They’d been allowed to bring weapons, but none were to be worn in the presence of Viago. Meira wasn’t sure why the difference from the strict no-weapons policy during day visits at his townhouse in Salle. Did all Crows think that sleeping with weapons was routine?  “Before or after I give him a piece of my mind?” “Before. Please.” Meira fixed him with an imploring look.  Lucanis scoffed. “All right, all right.” He leaned down and kissed her. “You will stay here.”  “What, right here? In the room?” Meira’s gaze strayed to the balcony, where the lush grounds beyond beckoned.  Lucanis scowled. “It’s not safe to wander around alone. Besides, who will watch my blades?”  Meira gazed at the dozen weapons he’d laid out on the table in front of them. She felt like saying that they probably didn’t need a governess. “How long will you be?”  “With Viago, it is hard to say.” Lucanis pursed his lips. “It could be hours.”  “You can’t be serious,” Meira said, stunned.  “It shouldn’t run into suppertime. I think Viago will want to show off.” Lucanis glanced at the attendant standing at the door for confirmation, repeating himself in Antivan. The servant nodded enthusiastically and said something about a special meal being prepped in their honor. “You’ll have plenty of time to get dressed.”  Meira shot him an incredulous look, because when had she ever spent much time getting ready? She had one formal gown in her trunk, and it was a traditional Nevarran dress, sure to stick out here in the sea of Antivans. She sighed.  “You could have at least told me to bring a book,” she mumbled.  “I think I saw some over there,” Lucanis said, either missing or choosing to ignore her sarcasm. He gestured vaguely at the sideboard by the beds. “Trust me, I will be back as soon as I can.” 

Tagging, if interested: @monocytogenes | @theluckywizard | @midmorninggrey | @wishforhome | @aetherflowers | @the-bear-and-his-sunbird | @highwayphantoms | you!!

[nirikeehan]

I can still only post from my phone but @nirikeehan just for u

Will there be more dragon age memes? PERHAPS.

[nirikeehan]

Last Line Meme

Tagged by @woundedsoul12 and just got back from my vacation! I can barely even remember what I wrote last, so this was a nice way to remind myself.

From the Crow shenanigan OC & OC crossover fic featuring @wishforhome's Vero... Meira has regrets.

This was not how she’d planned to spend her holiday in the Antivan countryside! Well, all right, maybe her first mistake had been considering it a holiday in the first place.

Tagging, if interested:

@monocytogenes | @theluckywizard | @wishforhome | @midmorninggrey | @librivore42 | @the-bear-and-his-sunbird | @highwayphantoms | @oxygenforthewicked | @wolfs-dawn | and you, if you wanna!!

[nirikeehan]

hey um. so sorry to tell you this, but op of that post plays toys kinda weird. yeah you should just block them, that's not how normal people play with toys

[nirikeehan]

I would like to salute the people who ship their ocs with non romanceable NPCs 🫡