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For those who don't contain a vast knowledge of Green Day lore like myself, I don't think it is hitting just how much of a "fuck you" the NFL is giving djt/the white house.
This is a band that is:
Made entirely of openly bisexual/queer men
Made entirely of men who are vocal about being raised by single mothers on welfare
One of their members was adopted and raised by a Black woman and has said he "understands how his mother could hate 'the white man' and love him with her whole soul."
Were the first band to say, "No Trump, No KKK, No Fascist/MAGA U.S.A." on live television without ANY warning.
Literally released a song last year called, "The American Dream Is Killing Me"
Only hires ALL FEMALE bands to open for them to address inequality in the music industry
OPENLY tells trump supporters they are not welcome at their concerts.
Anyway, Enjoy Feb. 8th Magats! You're gonna hate it. :)
βRead it again,β the Inquisitor said, perplexed, staring at Josephine uncomprehendingly.
She frowned as she read it a second time, no doubt already planning the necessary damage control in her mind.
"We must protest the actions of the Bullβs Chargers in South Reach. While the presence of the Demons and Templars corrupted by Red Lyrium is undisputed, the necessity of your Dwarven miner collapsing the better part of a mountain on the enemy forces was hardly necessary.β
βRight,β Maxwell said. It didnβt make any more sense the second time around. βDoes anybody know what happened here? What are they even doing in South Reach?β
βI believe I know the answer to that,β Cullen sighed. βIt started about a month ago.β
OR
Bull has a crisis of faith after becoming Tal-Vashoth and his mind won't let him be.
Horns Up, Spirits High! was written for the Platonic Ideal 2025/26 for Squid-Head. Check out the rest of these amazing works here.
Tag List @aetherflowers @bibutterflies @briannasroger @carako @dogot @dragonagedorks @inquisiorastoria @morganaofcamelot @priya-san @somethingthedasrelated @theluckywizard @tired-truffle @woundedsoul12 @squid-head @julie-spirit-finn
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forgive me father for i have opened a notification and read the message within to make the red dot go away and then forgot to reply for a month . it will happen again
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To admit to miss him meant that she cared for him. But she was the Inquisitor. This she could not demand from her Commander.
A series of letters exchanged by Inquisitor Yali Trevelyan and Commander Cullen Rutherford. Written for the @cullenromancers 'Love Letters' event!
Full fic on AO3.
Alt text + Yali's reply under the cut!
Dear Inquisitor Trevelyan,
Weβve had another two hundred recruits pledge their allegiance to the Inquisition since you departed for Crestwood. It seems like news of your survival at Haven has spread around Thedas farther than we could have imagined. The recruits are greener than I would like, but many of them know how to hold a sword right side up. Thatβs a start.
Josephine is ecstatic. She mentioned something about hosting a celebratory ball upon your return. If you need me, I shall be hiding in my quarters until the threat of such an event passes. But I warn you now so you know what youβre up against when you return.
How is Crestwood? Lelianaβs scouts mentioned the weather is appalling. I hope you are able to stay safe and locate Hawkeβs Warden contact. I fear we wonβt make much headway with Corypheus without them. If you require extra resources just say the word β I have a few soldiers who are ready to be deployed at any time.
Oneβ¦ final matter I would like to approach. I have heard mention of a high dragon flying through the area. Please I would not recommend approaching the Dragon, and instead exercising caution β no matter what The Iron Bull may say.
Regards,
Commander Rutherford
+++
Dear Commander Rutherford,
What did I say about formal titles with me? Being addressed as the Herald was tough enough, but now as the Inquisitor? I would appreciate it if my friends would call me by my given name. If that is not too much to ask.
If anyone can whip these recruits into shape it would be you. I have full faith in my Commander.
Crestwood was wet. We did take all precautions to stay dry, but still managed to feel the chill most days. At least Dorian did, he never stopped complaining about it.
Hawke and Warden Alistair are headed back to Skyhold as I write this letter. We have rerouted to stop through the Hinterlands before we head back. Now that we have the capabilities, I thought we could provide more help to the refugees of the area, and see if any more are interested in joining the Inquisition. Donβt worry, I shall be back before long to keep you from the dreaded ball.
I must admit, the idea of a celebration does excite me. The dresses, the food, the dancing! Before I was taken to the circle, I used to beg my Mother to allow me to attend our family soireeβs when we hosted them. Donβt worry, I am ready to conspire on an excuse to keep you in hiding.
Youβll be pleased to know that we did not engage with the high dragon in Crestwood. Despite Bullβs protests, we knew the four of us would not be able to take her alone. Still, I donβt like the idea of leaving the town unguarded against her. Could you please deploy our soldiers to Crestwood when you have the chance? Theyβll appreciate the protection.
Maker, the Hinterlands is gorgeous. As I write now it is sunset, and the golden light filtering through the leaves is beautiful. I canβt believe you grew up around here. You must have had the most magical childhood.
We plan to leave for Skyhold in a few days. I hope you can hide from Josephine until I get back.
Updates every Thursday! Posted to tumblr on Sat/Sun!
read on ao3
The Inquisition is done, the battle is won. The only thing to do now is continue. But Cullen Rutherford is only a shell of the man he once was, lyrium claiming more pieces of his body and his mind with each day. On a journey to Val Chevin, his ship wrecks upon the Waking Sea and Cullen finds himself at the mercy of the waves. Until a creature known as a siren rescues him and reminds him of what it means to be brave. [AU, semi-canon compliant]
"I am your friend. Ophelia." She held the cup again. "Rinse. Move slow, you've been⦠very sick for a while." His hand trembled as he accepted the cup, water spilling over the sides and falling down his fingers. What was wrong with him? When it sloshed again, her hand closed around his. The cup bumped against his lips and she hummed a quiet, soothing noise in prompting. He obeyed without thinking, and lukewarm water spilled over his cracked lips.
Rinse. He wiped his mouth, surprised at the growth around his face. It was never his preference to let it grow, preferring something a touch more neat. The only time it had ever grown unwieldy, he'd been fresh from lyrium andβ
Lyrium. Lyrium. Lyrium. His throat burned again, but not with sickness. With want. With desperation. He croaked out words without hearing them. "Lyrium?"
"It's not time," she said quietly.
His hands flexed. Not yet. He could wait, couldn't he? He wasn't so far gone that he needed it. His chin dropped, an aborted nod which made his head spin. When his head settled once more, he studied her again. A round figure and too big eyes, russet skin and dark, tangled hair. Smears of darkness under her eyes. Her fingers twitched and tapped, studying him intently. Knowingly.
"You've been taking care of me?" It came out hoarse.
"Yes."
His thought raced. "Where am I?"
Tag List β₯
@aetherflowers @bibutterflies @briannasroger @carako @dogot
Cullen must recover from the injuries he received at the Shrine, and let himself lean on others for help.
Chapter WC: 5.5k
Read it on ao3 here!
Excerpt under the cut
Darkness.
Pain.
Nightmares.
Cullen floated along, reliving his worst moments over and over.
One moment he was back in that prison, magic humming all around him until his very being shook. Sometimes his friends were there, huddled together. Sometimes he watched them die again, over and over.
Oftentimes he was alone, caged like a wild animal, praying and hoping and praying. The demon would come, would stare at him with malice written in every scale, her horns casting twisted shadows over him as her tail twitched and tangled while she touched him. The times she wore Surana's skin were the worst.
Then he would find himself in Kirkwall, years condensed into moments as he watched mage after mage twist and morph into bloody abominations. The pain and terror in all of their faces before they turned. Or just in the hallways as they scurried by, beaten and cowed by the Gallows. By those meant to protect them.
The boom of the Chantry exploding, the shockwave stealing his breath and making his ears ring. The thick, black smoke choking his lungs as the city burned. The debris scattered everywhere, the occasional wailing as somebody tugged at a limb jutting from under a thick, jagged length of stone.
Carrying out Meredith's mad orders, enacting the Right of Annulment on any and every mage they could find. The horrified face of a mage he had seen just that morning at breakfast, now full of pain and terror as they coughed their final, bloody breath onto him. The hold their viscera had on his sword as he tugged it free.
Every so often voices would filter in, panic and sadness, worry wound tight. A cool hand on his forehead that might have had scales but the gentle touch calmed him. A drifting scent of lavender and elfroot, fire and blood. The bitter taste of elfroot too, choked down his throat in a clearer moment.
Throughout it all was a hunger, a need, blue and crystalline in his blood; a swirling, shifting emptiness inside of him demanding to be filled.
A few times he blinked his eyes open only to find Uldred leering down at him. Or Surana, face full of worry, wringing her hands as he shook and shivered. The gory, dirty walls of the Hold bore down on him. Or was it just canvas, the fabric of a tent? Then he would slip under the surface again, more nightmares filling his mind.
"Cassandra, will he be okay?" Ellana's voice, floated through the darkness to wind around him at one point. She sounded sad. And scared. He wanted to help but he couldn't remember why she might be upset.
"I do not know, Inquisitor. I have not seen it this bad since he had first stopped taking the lyrium."
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We're officially less than a week away from our anniversary celebration! Starting 2/14 and running all month, we look forward to seeing what you come up with for our love letters prompt π
As promised, here are our other two activities!
First is the custom ship chart (with a sample filled out if you need an example to help you get started):
Second, we have a few Valentine's cards made by members of our community! These can be special cards from Cullen to your OC. Or, you can make your own to send from your OC to Cullen or from OC to OC, the choice is yours!
As a reminder, don't forget to use the tags:
#CullensLoveLetters and #cullenromancers so we can reblog your posts on our tumblr here!