#deliver it by throwing it through the cullen's window please

[threebooksoneplot]

What if the real reason Bella was all lethargic and depressed for months after Edward left was because she had Lyme disease from lying in the woods

don't make us give beau another chronic illness/disorder. because we'll do it. we'll fucking do it man—shannon

lmfaoooo she WOULLLLDDD. Labia Tick Episode™ of House MD but it's bella swan 💀 —G

[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.

[awkwardblushing-blog]

Chapter 64 - Long Awaited

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8129126/chapters/24991887

Bastien flew up the stairs three at a time, gasping for breath by the time he reached Leliana’s loft. They'd found something, Bastien still didn’t know what that something was but with Cullen still missing anything new was vital. He froze when he saw it glinting in the candlelight.

Placed in sections over Leliana’s table… was Cullen’s armor. Bastien’s eyes flicked to Leliana first, but she shook her head.

“I’m sorry, but we have no sign of him. We only managed to obtain this from a trader passing by one of our outposts near the wilds. Unfortunately, how he obtained it is still rather obscure, but we are going to find out all he knows.” Leliana’s tone began soothing, but ended sharp and deadly.

Bastien turned his attention back to the armor on the table, focusing on the large gash curling through the metal. This had been the blow that sent him over the cliffs. This had been the strike Derrick had delivered before Bastien managed to get his head on straight. He clenched his teeth, barely noticing when Dorian’s arm curled around his waist and pulled him into his chest.

It was all his fault. His brother had been corrupted by the red lyrium and had attacked him while he stood gaping, making Cullen feel like he needed to save him. Looking at this armor now, it was terrifyingly likely that Cullen was dead… and it was all his fault.

Dorian held him tight as his last hopes of seeing Cullen alive vanished.

---

Dorian slammed into the door with his shoulder, throwing it open and startling more than one noble as he charged through the garden, kicking up the pebbles from the pathway as he gained speed. He’d taken his eyes off of Bastien for five minutes to go to his alcove and retrieve a book - which is where he overheard Leliana’s cry for help, her explanation to Solas that Bastien had gone through the Eluvian, alone, after Morrigan. He would kill him for this, absolutely kill him. The bandages were off his face, but the burn was still healing, the worst of the damage was healed, but he was still weak and winded from blood loss. He shouldn’t be…wherever that stupid mirror led!

He threw open the final door and nearly knocked over Keiran. Sitting before the glowing light of the Eluvian, he saw Bastien seated on a crate in front of Morrigan, wringing his hands as they spoke. He was drenched, his hair matted flat against his head, his tunic sticking to his chest and back, he wasn’t even wearing his armor. His boots were covered in muck to the ankles, smears of it over his arms and hands where he’d likely caught himself. Dorian fumed, Bastien was covered in the scent of the fade. He clenched his fists at his sides and cleared his throat. Both of their heads swiveled to face him and Bastien colored, what little he could, and rubbed the back of his neck. He smiled at Morrigan, who turned and closed the Eluvian, leaving the room awash in the warm rays of the sun and soft flicker of candlelight before departing, leaving the two of them alone in the room. A heavy silence followed.

“I feel like I’m saying this a lot lately but, I’m sorry.” Bastien began, leaning forward on his elbows to fiddle with Jean’s ring. “I just… I couldn’t leave Keiran in the fade alone.”

Dorian clenched and unclenched his fists, his eyes pressed shut as he struggled to calm himself. He wanted to kiss him, he wanted to slap him, he wanted to shout, he wanted to cry… A shadow fell over him, strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him close. He wanted to struggle against it, to shove him away and punish him, somehow, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, not when Bastien’s heart still beat far too fast, not when his skin was still too pale, not when that burn remained, an angry red reminder of Bastien’s sacrifice for him. So he stood there, rigid in Bastien’s embrace.

“I thought -,” Dorian cleared his throat, furious at the way it trembled, “I thought ‘this is it, this is when I lose him.’”

His voice broke, and Bastien pulled him closer. They stood like that for a moment, Dorian sobbing, Bastien rubbing those small circles across his back, nothing but the flickering light of the few candles and a small ray of light from the stained glass window to illuminate the room. After a few moments, Dorian’s breathing calmed and Bastien pressed him closer to his chest.

“Dorian, listen.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Listen to my heart. I know this sounds cheesey but… please. Do you hear how strong it is? Never mind if its steady, that’s all you.” Bastien laughed gently and Dorian listened to the strong, if a bit unsteady rhythm of his heart. He’d thought it was still frail, still fluttering, but it sounded as strong as ever, and when Bastien turned his face up to look him in the eye, the lips he thought were pale had their normal rich color, the blush back on Bastien’s cheeks, the burn not quite so dark against his skin. “You saw me through what is hopefully the worst injury I will ever sustain. You stayed by my side, I’m not going anywhere.”

He murmured the promise against Dorian’s lips, the warm air caressing his skin followed shortly after by Bastien’s lips against his. Dorian sank into the embrace. Somehow, he hadn’t noticed Bastien’s recovery. Everything had been so muted, he’d been so frantic, he hadn’t seen him grow stronger with each passing day, and now, miraculously, he was nearly back to normal. How long had it been?

A trumpet blast tore them apart, rocketing through Skyhold like lightning. They both froze, regarding one another for a moment before the trumpets blared again, followed by shouts and cries and the thunder of so many feet rushing towards a single destination. Clasping Dorian’s hand, Bastien led them out into the garden. The shouts which greeted them made Bastien freeze in his steps. His heart skipped and fluttered wildly at the sound, adrenaline shooting through him as he began to move forward, pulling Dorian along behind him as they broke into a run. There was no way…

“The Commander! It’s the Commander!”

[threebooksoneplot]

your tags on https://www(dot)tumblr(dot)com/threebooksoneplot/735454495226593280/what-if-the-real-reason-bella-was-all-lethargic say: "#us dangling a limp beau swan over a looney tunes-style pool labeled 'DISORDERS'#wearing old west clothes and threatening to do it unless we get a 30k in pennies by sundown#deliver it by throwing it through the cullen's window please"

i thought it would be fun to play with the idea of $30k in pennies. please enjoy these facts:

$30,000 USD is 3,000,000 pennies.

A USAmerican penny weighs 0.08818 ounces or 2.5 grams.

3,000,000 pennies therefore weigh 16534 pounds or 7499.6 kilograms. This is more than the mass of a typical large elephant (≈ 6000 kg).

A USAmerican penny has a volume of 0.027 cubic inches or 0.442 cubic centimeters.

3,000,000 pennies therefore have a volume of 1.74 cubic yards/351 gallons or 1.33 cubic meters. This is about the volume of 9 standard bathubs (≈40 gallons).

oh??? my god??? thank you so much for doing this math. this is not anything I would have ever been able to figure out myself and the idea of bella chucking 8 tons of pennies through the cullens' front window over the course of, idk, weeks? months? is DELIGHTFUL to' me. she and jacob should've just sat out front with dennis the menace -style slingshots, flinging sacks of coins through as many windows as they could hit—shannon

in the Berenstein Universe this was canon and then shannon and I did a whole Bit about bella depriving the starving Marks family of those 8 bathtubs of pennies —G