I'm Lucy

Cotswolds countryside

Chapter nine, in which Shepard resolves to get rid of Cullen. There's 200k words to go, so she probably doesn't kill him.

The second week of their journey passed largely without incident. Agata had resigned herself to her fate, sullen but not disruptive; Shepard was downright pleasant at times, although Cullen occasionally questioned her motive. Still, when she wasn’t needling him — or flirting with him, which she now did relentlessly and with a vindictive sort of glee — she could be entertaining.  Cullen had escorted his fair share of mages back to the Circle, but none of them had been quite like Shepard. She had an irrepressible fascination with the world, eager to learn as much as she could about Thedas; as he became more comfortable with her, and became sure their conversations weren’t a trap, he found himself returning questions of his own. She talked around anything she deemed too personal, and she had the tendency to be opinionated whenever they spoke of the Chantry, but at least their verbal spars were less painful than sparring with her physically. Mostly. “And so that’s the point where he can no longer reconcile his duty with morality.” As they’d approached the Vinmark Mountains, Shepard had launched into a long-winded story about some prisoner and the knight pursuing him; insistent on random tangents and introducing far too many side characters, she was still at it what felt like years later. Cullen only listened to pass the time. “So he chucks himself off a bridge,” she concluded with a smile, innocent and entirely unconvincing. “Inspiring anything in you?”

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Chapter nine, in which Shepard resolves to get rid of Cullen. There's 200k words to go, so she probably doesn't kill him.

The second week of their journey passed largely without incident. Agata had resigned herself to her fate, sullen but not disruptive; Shepard was downright pleasant at times, although Cullen occasionally questioned her motive. Still, when she wasn’t needling him — or flirting with him, which she now did relentlessly and with a vindictive sort of glee — she could be entertaining.  Cullen had escorted his fair share of mages back to the Circle, but none of them had been quite like Shepard. She had an irrepressible fascination with the world, eager to learn as much as she could about Thedas; as he became more comfortable with her, and became sure their conversations weren’t a trap, he found himself returning questions of his own. She talked around anything she deemed too personal, and she had the tendency to be opinionated whenever they spoke of the Chantry, but at least their verbal spars were less painful than sparring with her physically. Mostly. “And so that’s the point where he can no longer reconcile his duty with morality.” As they’d approached the Vinmark Mountains, Shepard had launched into a long-winded story about some prisoner and the knight pursuing him; insistent on random tangents and introducing far too many side characters, she was still at it what felt like years later. Cullen only listened to pass the time. “So he chucks himself off a bridge,” she concluded with a smile, innocent and entirely unconvincing. “Inspiring anything in you?”

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Chapter five, in which Shepard turns to seduction to escape capture, which goes about as well as you would expect for chapter five of a slow burn.

Shepard had planned on letting the templar lead her all the way to Kirkwall before ditching him — possibly tied up and in an actual ditch, depending on how she was feeling at the time — but she quickly grew bored of his company. Also, he’d taken to drugging her, which she found highly objectionable. She hadn’t immediately realised was what he was doing, having been lulled into a false sense of security by his manner. She would hardly call him nice, but he was civil; his approach was curt but not cruel, firm but never rough, and he ensured she was fed and watered just as he was. Most of all he seemed professional, his duty of utmost importance to him, unwavering in his dedication to his task. He seemed professional — but evidently he was underhanded, and a monumental pain in the ass.

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i HATE self-censorship for a lot of reasons, but being in crisis work makes it even more frustrating. who are you censoring for? like i am being so fr, WHO are you censoring for? have you even thought it through? people who have been raped know that they have been raped. if someone attempts suicide or is grieving someone who did, saying "sewer slide" isn't going to protect them from any of the feelings. a murder victim's family isn't going to feel better bc you said "unalived" instead of murdered. if anything, it's just extremely invalidating and othering. it's saying "what happened to you is so bad that i won't even say the word," which is NOT trauma-informed care. you are not protecting survivors/victims when you self-censor. the ONLY things you protect when you self-censor are the puritanical ideologies that are being encouraged by rich fascists who want your money and obedience

Quiet countryside paths