I’m thinking about rolling up a m!Shep for the Cortega romance
I want to name him Steve lol so they can be Steve squared lolol
This is my tumblr.
About me: 26, f, cis, white, bisexual/queer, neuroatypical, disabled* Um I usually go by 'Rhea' online so you can refer to me as that, or LL, or Liquid, or Lyrium, or LiquidLyrium or whatever I guess.
You have been warned.
*(able-bodied, mental/chronic illness)
This blog is also [often] very NSFW. (And homoerotic.)
Links of import:
SO LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT QUINNTUS HAWKE :U
Um I usually go by 'Rhea' online so you can refer to me as that, or LL, or Liquid, or Lyrium, or LiquidLyrium or whatever I guess.
You have been warned.
And just like, pretend that it’s Hawke leading the inquisition party and hanging out with Cassandra and Varric, just pretending to be someone else. And Varric and Hawke laughing behind Cassandra’s back whenever she asks about Hawke or they talk about Hawke
Cassandra: *Confronting LI for f!Hawke* Where is she? We need the Champion to end this now!
LI: Hawke is heavy with child and cannot go anywhere.
Dudebro Gamers: But she was a lesbian HOW COULD SHE BECOME PREGNANT?
Cassandra: *confronting LI for m!Hawke* Where is he? We need the Champion to end this now!
LI: Hawke is heavy with child and cannot go anywhere.
Dudebro Gamers: WTF IS THIS MPREG SHIT!?!!?!?
For unromanced Hawke
Cassandra: *Confronting Aveline* Where is the Champion!? We need him/her to end this conflict now!
Aveline: Hawke is budding and will soon undergo individualization.
Cassandra: ……. *turns around and marches into the sea*
Dudebro Gamers: WTF???
From the drabble-generator. Most legit. Most ugly laughter.
A Card In Time
On a wicked and lewd morning, Quinntus sat beneath the stars. It was Valentine’s Day and he was all alone. His shoulder ached in sorrow for the secret love that he could never share. How could he expect Fenris to love someone with a wanton ass?
Desperately, he began to recite a poem he had composed. “Ah, my love is like an urgent liquid feather, all on a summer’s day. I wish my Fenris would fondle me, in his own amorous way…”
“Do you?” Fenris sat down beside Quinntus and put his hand on Quinntus’s spine. “I think that could be arranged.”
Quinntus gasped woundedly. “But what about my wanton ass?”
“I like it,” Fenris said bashfully. “I think it’s warm.”
They came together and their kiss was more tainted than a Grey Warden with a dirty mind.
“I love you,” Quinntus said needily.
“I love you too,” Fenris replied and fondled him.
They bought a wyvern, moved in together, and lived pleadingly ever after.
The Miracle Of The Bronto
Quinntus hated Christmas. He didn’t just dislike Christmas, he hated it like a raging inferno set by a desire demon with an unusual affinity for flames. He loathed it.
Every December, Quinntus would feel himself getting all incandescent inside. He refused to put up a Christmas nose, he snapped at anyone broody enough to sing a carol in his vicinity, and he never, ever bought anybody any presents.
On December 13, Quinntus had to go to the mall to buy a smouldering bulge. When he got there, there were so many shoppers pushing verily around and so much Christmas music blaring coquettishly, he thought his nose would explode.
Finally, he was done. Just outside the door was an indecent man collecting for charity. Quinntus never gave to charity, so he started to walk past without a word.
Suddenly, the indecent man dropped his bells and ran against the wall. There was a sharp bronto right in the path of an oncoming truck. But the indecent man slipped and fell, so now they were both in danger!
Quinntus rushed out and sneakily pushed them both out of the way. There was a naughty bang and then everything went dark.
When Quinntus woke up, he was in a hot room. There was a Christmas nose in the corner and soft carols were playing. Also, Quinntus’s foot hurt. A lot.
The indecent man came into the room. “I’m so splendid!” he said. “You’re awake. My name is Fenris. You saved me from the truck. But your foot is broken.”
Quinntus hardly knew what to say. Even though there was a Christmas nose up and his foot was broken, he felt quite lavish, especially when he looked at Fenris.
“Your foot must hurt exactingly,” Fenris said. “I think this will help.” And he whisked Quinntus several times.
Now Quinntus felt very lavish indeed. He didn’t hate Christmas at all now. In fact, he loved it. And he loved Fenris. “I love you,” he said, and kissed Fenris quickly.
“I love you too,” said Fenris. Just then, the bronto ran into the room and nuzzled Quinntus’s hand. “I brought him home with us,” Fenris said.
“We’ll call him Miracle,” Quinntus said. “Our Christmas Miracle.”
It was the best Christmas ever.
I’m Dreaming Of An Incandescent Christmas
It was Christmas Eve. Quinntus sat quickly against the wall, sipping broody eggnog.
He looked at the naughty bulge hanging on the Christmas Tree and sighed. Last year, Fenris had hung it there, just before they looked at each other sneakily and then fell into each other’s arms and whisked each other’s nose.
If only I hadn’t been so splendid, Quinntus thought, pouring a indecent amount of rum into his eggnog. Then Fenris might not have got so sharp and left me all alone at Christmas time. He wiped away a lavish tear and held his hand in his hand.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and then a hot voice lifted coquettishly up in song.
I’m dreaming of an incandescent Christmas
Just like a raging inferno set by a desire demon with an unusual affinity for flames
Quinntus ran to the door. It was Fenris, looking smouldering all over with snow.
“I missed you exactingly,” Fenris said. “And I wanted to whisk your nose again.”
Quinntus hugged Fenris and started to sob.
“I think you’re drunk,” Fenris said.
“I think so too,” Quinntus said and they whisked each other’s nose until they knocked the Christmas tree over.
On Christmas Day, they ate roasted bronto foot and lived verily until Quinntus got drunk again.
The Tasty Terror Of The Snow
It snowed a foot overnight. When they woke up, Quinntus and Fenris went out to play. First, they made snow angels. Then they had a snowball fight and Quinntus hit Fenris in his neck with a big tortured iceball. It hurt a lot, but Quinntus kissed it masterfully and then it was all better.
Then they decided to make a snow man.
“We’ll make a really glistening snow man!” Quinntus said.
“Why don’t we make a snow woman instead?” Fenris said. “That would be more enticing and politically correct.”
“I know,” Quinntus said. “We can make a snow mabari. That way, we don’t have to worry about gender politics.”
So they rolled the snow up brusquely and made a boring snow mabari. Quinntus put on a pepper for the ear. The mabari was almost as big as Fenris.
“It looks messy,” Quinntus said wickedly. “But it seems like it’s missing something.”
“Here,” Fenris said and held up a broody medal. “I found this under the covers.” He put the medal onto the mabari’s head.
It was perfect. For about a minute. Then the mabari, even though it was just made of snow, started to move and growl like a bronto dancing the Remigold in a porcelain shop.
Fenris screamed rudely and ran but the snow mabari chased him until he tripped over a tree root. Then the snow mabari swept him teasingly.
“Nobody does that to my little Intense Knife,” Quinntus screamed. He grabbed an icicle and stabbed the snow mabari through the navel. It fell down and Quinntus kicked it apart until it was just a bunch of snow again.
“You saved me!” Fenris said and they shared an embrace in the snow before going in for hot chocolate.
The medal lay in the yard until a tepid child picked it up and took it home.
Fenris and Quinntus
by William Shakespeare
Quinntus appears above at a window
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the pepper, and Quinntus is the mabari.
Arise, glistening mabari, and sweep the tortured medal.
See, how he leans his navel upon his ear!
O, that I were a glove upon that ear,
That I might touch that navel!
O Fenris, Fenris! wherefore art thou Fenris?
What’s in a name? That which we call a neck
By any other name would smell as boring
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say “like a bronto dancing the Remigold in a porcelain shop”
And I will take thy word; yet if thou swear’st,
Thou mayst prove tepid.
Swain, by yonder tortured medal I swear
That tips under the covers the broody knife—
O, swear not by the medal, the tasty medal,
That brusquely changes in its enticing orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise enticing.
Sweet, messy night! A thousand times messy night!
Parting is such intense sorrow,
That I shall say messy night till it be morrow.
Sleep dwell upon thy navel, peace in thine ear!
Would I were sleep and peace, so teasingly to rest!
rudely will I to my glistening neck’s cell,
Its help to sweep, and my boring neck to tell.
Fenris finished packing. Ever since Quinntus, his own true love, had been lost at sea, Fenris had been boring.
There was nothing left for him anymore, nothing swept him, all was intense. So today, Valentine’s Day, he was going under the covers to become a tepid medal.
Just then, there was a tasty knock at the door. Fenris opened it and stood there teasingly for a moment, before falling to the floor in a swoon and bruising his neck.
When Fenris came to, Quinntus was holding his ear and looking glistening. “My love,” Quinntus said rudely, “I’m sorry for the tortured shock. I’ve been shipwrecked on a messy island for the last ten years, living like a bronto dancing the Remigold in a porcelain shop. I was only rescued last week.” He paused. “I lost my navel in the wreck. Can you still love me?”
Fenris could hardly believe his Quinntus had returned. “I will always love you, navel or no navel. Besides, you can cover it up with a knife.”
They embraced wickedly and vowed to never be parted again.
And all was broody.
A Brooding Day To Yoink
Quinntus stepped quietly out into the supple sunshine, and admired Fenris’s forehead. “Ah,” he sighed, “That’s a happy sight.”
Fenris climbed off the Aggregio Pavali and walked magnanimously across the grass to greet his lover. Quinntus patted Fenris on the mind and then tried to yoink him broodily, but without success.
“That’s all right,” Fenris said. “We can try again later.”
“I’m just not special,” Quinntus. “Not as special as the time we yoinked under water.”
Fenris nodded tersely. “We were angsty back in those days.”
“Our toes were younger, and we had a lot more fun with them,” Quinntus said. “Everything seems marvelous and plush when you’re young.”
“Of course,” Fenris said. “But now we’re disgusting, we can still have fun. If we go about it gravely.”
“Gravely?” Quinntus said . “But how?”
“With this,” Fenris said and held out a whimsical taco. “Just take that with some water and in half an hour, you’ll be ready to yoink.”
Quinntus swallowed the taco at once and sure enough, in half an hour, they were able to yoink gravely. They yoinked like Ser Rascal loves Anders’s coat.. Three times.
And then the neighbour told them to get off his lawn.
OMG DYING. FUCKING DYING AT THIS LAST ONE
|Isabela:||So... Hawke tells me those markings make you VERY strong.|
|Isabela:||And give you GREAT endurance.|
|Fenris:||I see where this is going...|
|Isabela:||They improve your eyesight, too? Marvelous!|
|Fenris:||Put some pants on, woman.|
Can I make a confession? I actually love a lot of these wtffanfiction entries. And not just in a point-and-laugh sort of way.
Like, this one is bloody brilliant. A bee’s dick. Bwah! In a million years, my imagination could never come up with that.
I think it takes a lot of courage to insert original, unique metaphors into your writing. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, but there’s something about the risk itself that I have to sit back and admire.
So, anyway, yeah. I see these scroll past on my dash and everyone’s like “hahaha, how hilariously bad” and I’m over here thinking, ‘hey, that’s kind of awesome’. *crawls under a rock*
"There’s a lesson to be learned here," Varric said, holstering Bianca "messing with us is suicidal." The dwarf rolled one of the bodies over with his boot. "Tch, just some Coterie thugs. Maybe Gallard’s still mad about that card game with Blondie and that hat he wants."
Anders flinched where he stood, hands resting on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, “Did you… really… have to mention that?”
Isabela pursed her lips and crossed her arms, “Is it just me or are we missing someone? Specifically two someones?”
Varric looked around, but the only other bodies he could see were the ones they had felled. Varric cursed loudly, “Son of a nug-rutting bitch! Those two snuck off again?”
Anders leaned against his staff heavily, “Didn’t you.. didn’t you notice? I couldn’t cast as many offensive spells because I had to focus on keeping the both of you alive.”
Isabela huffed out an annoyed sigh, “It’s bad enough they won’t let me join in, the least they could do is stick around so I could watch!”
"Ancestors," Varric groused "It’s gonna take us all night to get to the docks if they keep doing this! Some of us need our beauty sleep."
"I think I saw them duck through there," Anders said slowly, gingerly pointing towards a nearby blind alley.
"Rivaini, you have no scruples about this sort of thing—see if it’s safe to interrupt them." Anders rubbed his forehead. He could feel the beginnings of a headache.
Isabela smirked and went to peek around the corner of the narrow alleyway. It was dark, and the two figures were a good distance away, but she recognized Fenris and their fearless leader entwined amidst the shadows cast by the swelling moon overhead.
"Well?" Varric prompted her, standing to one side, facing in the opposite direction of the side street. "What are they doing?"
The pirate smirked, “D’you want specifics or just the general picture? I’d have to get out my spyglass I think, to get any really good detail.”
Anders shuddered, “Just the general idea please.”
"Oh you two are no fun," Isabela pouted looking back into the rather lengthy alleyway. She cheerfully described the scene, "Mm, well, Fenris has our dear Quinntus pinned against the wall, Hawke seems to have misplaced his tongue in the elf’s mouth, and there’s less than a bee’s dick of space between them."
Anders felt his face twist in revulsion. Varric shook his head, “You do have a way with words, don’t you Rivaini? C’mon Blondie. I’m outta here. Let’s go to the Hanged Man and play some Wicked Grace.”
Anders laughed ruefully, “Sure, why not? I could always use more Coterie thugs angling for my body parts. Maybe a finger this time, or my nose!”
"Suit yourselves," Isabela said leaning in to watch. She leaped backwards a moment later as a dagger flew wildly through the air towards her. It clattered to the ground. The pirate frowned and scooped up the knife. "Tch, some people are so sensitive!” She thrust the knife into her belt and went to catch up with Anders and Varric.
In the alleyway Fenris lifted his lips off of Hawke’s neck. He lifted one of his dark brows in question, “What was that?”
Quinntus grinned at him, “Nothing. Thought I saw a rat. It’s gone.”
"Hn," Fenris carefully traced Quinn’s lips with a point of a gauntleted finger. "Perhaps this would be best continued…elsewhere."
Hawke smirked happily, “Your place or mine?”
Fenris’s voice held just a touch of a possessive growl, “Mine.”
I could actually see Isabela saying that though XD