#acheesecakewrites

1. Everyone asks about favorite colors. is there a color that you hate?

I don’t hate the color now, but when I was younger I absolutely hated the color yellow. That was the color of a medicine I had to take and absolutely hated it. I don’t mind it now though.

2. Do you like to write/draw/read more when it’s sunny? dark? rainy? 

I like to draw when it’s sunny and I can get natural light, but i like reading/writing when it’s rainy or darker out. Especially if I’m writing/reading something a bit scarier.

3. How many languages do you speak/read/write?

English is my first language so I’m fluent in reading/writing and speaking it. I’m trying to learn Spanish though, and while I can’t really speak it well aside from a few phrases or really write it, I can actually somewhat read it. A good example is I couldn’t hold a conversation or write directions, but I could read a brochure/kid’s chapter book and know what they were talking about.

4. Do you prefer llamas or alpacas?

Llamas, because of the movie ‘Emperors New Groove.’

5. What’s your favorite place you’ve ever visited? do you want to go back or just hold onto the good memories?

I think my favorite place I’ve ever visited is probably England, and I’d absolutely love to go back there someday.

6. What is the correct number of cats? (for you, personally)

Two. That way they have a friend.

7. Are you a multishipper or do you latch onto just one or two OTPs?

I’m honestly a mix of these two. For certain characters I latch onto one OTP and for other characters I tend to have my favorite ships, but I multiship them with several different characters.

8. How often do you re-read stories(books or fics) or re-watch shows and movies?

A lot. I really like to go back to things and see if I can find something new in them, or just revisit them for the feelings they gave me the first time. I go back to specific moments I think more than just entire works in general in terms of reading, and in movies/shows I might work on other things while watching it, and then pause the other work I’m doing when certain scenes come up.

9. Do you have a favorite OC? is this a terrible question like asking you to pick your favorite pet? 

Ooooh boy this is hard. This is really, really hard. Okay, okay, I think I can do this! I’m going to go with Eskame Trevlyan, because of how easy she could have wound up as a villain, if she wasn’t a mage, because of how utterly devout her family was to the Chantry. If she hadn’t experienced the wrongness of the situation first hand, and known people as friends, not just mages, that were lost to things like tranquility and the circle’s abuse, she would have followed Meredith’s line of thinking. She basically would be the kind of villain that scares me the most, which is the ‘for the greater good’ kind, and is deciding what that ‘greater good’ is. I’d describe her story oddly enough as one of faith. Being fanatical as a child, losing it completely in the circle, being confused/angry in inquisition, to finding some faith again at the end, but it far more resembles the kind of faith Sera, Lelianna, and Vivienne have then what the Chantry would deem as ‘correct’. I just really enjoy her story, and seeing where/how she avoids villainy, the areas she softens in, the areas she stays cynical and hardened, and the way she deals with knowing what she could have been if she hadn’t had magic.

10. Would you rather live underwater or in space?

Underwater! I’d want to be able to visit the surface a lot, but I think I’d like to be a mermaid and live underwater.

11. Which Dragon Age dragon is your favorite? (i like the sand howler. she’s pretty)

The Kaltenzahn in Emprise Du Lion! I love the design, the colors, and that was the dragon I fought where I discovered my absolute favorite team for dragon hunting. Vivienne, Bull and Cassandra.

My Questions:

1. What is your favorite book/movie or show from childhood?

2. Do you prefer headcannons that are based on in universe evidence, or headcannons that are just based on the fun of it?

3. What’s your least favorite level in any video game? (Mine was water levels in general, but nowadays it’s DAO: THE FADE. THAT LEVEL!)

4. Do you prefer to write/draw on the computer or traditionally?

5. If you could reboot any game/show/movie, what one would it be?

6. Do you prefer to be outside to read/write/draw or inside?

7. Did you have a pet as a child?

8. If you could visit any town from a video game world, which would it be?

9. What’s one place, real world, or not, that you never want to go?

10. You have a super power for 24 hours? What’s your power and what do you do with?

11. Favorite crossover or AU?

The first bright edges of the sun were deep orange-gold, and Dorian watched as it rose in increments, as the tops of the clouds shifted from deep gray to gold-pink, taking a few pictures with his phone. In the distance, the tops of the Hundred Pillars were visible, reaching like fingers above the clouds and gilded by the sunlight.

The sun rose fully, flooding the cabin with light in a matter of moments, the shift from dawn to daylight over in the blink of an eye. His last night in the Imperium ended as the shift of planets and stars carried on, perfectly routine.

Dorian spent a good portion of the flight befriending the tiny elven girl in the seat in front of him. She was nervous at first, peeking between the seat backs to stare at him, but he won her over by sharing his tiny bag of pretzels. Her delighted smile made his heart ache and he wished the flight would go faster so that he could be home.

The clouds cleared by late morning as their route swung out over the sea. They crossed into Ferelden, and Dorian watched the deep green forests roll by like waves as the plane passed over the mountains. Finally, they began to descend towards Cousland Memorial Airport.

He didn’t push as the plane emptied, he didn’t quite run through the terminal. What difference was a few minutes in the grand scheme of things, anyways? He hurried.

He fidgeted in line for customs, passport out, forms at the ready. He’d been a Fereldan citizen for years now, but somehow or other he always wound up “randomly selected” for something. He only had the one bag with him at least. A four-day trip, and his mother had insisted that she would provide him with an appropriate wardrobe, he hadn’t needed much luggage.

In fact, most of the space in his bag was taken up by gifts. Coffee for Krem, chocolates for Vivienne, an assortment of street-fair bric a brac for Bull. And, wrapped carefully in a soft scarf, the wooden duck he’d swiped from the attic of his parents house. He hadn’t even realized his mother had kept it, but he’d found it while going dutifully through the dusty boxes so that she would feel better about selling his childhood home. The paint was fading and one of the wheels had wobbled dangerously when he rolled it experimentally across the floor. Maybe Blackwall could fix it up a little.

The woman behind the desk looked back and forth from him to his passport photo a few times, asked him to open his bag so she could inspect the perishables he’d declared, made a few leading but not quite offensive comments, and generally made Dorian want to scream because he was so close, he was almost home.

She finally stamped his passport with a fake-sweet “Welcome to Ferelden, Mister Pavus,” and he was free.

Dorian hurried through the familiar halls, past stores selling “I love Skyhold” mugs and Denerim Mabaris jerseys. Thankfully, he was able to avoid the constant mess of the baggage claim and headed right to the front of the airport, scanning the room for familiar faces.

They were easy to find. Bull stood head and shoulders above the humans and elves around him, and Astaari, perched on his shoulders, saw Dorian at the same time he saw her. He saw her point at him, her little face shining with joy, and he felt the telltale sting of tears in his eyes, his throat pulling tight. He’d missed them more than he could have imagined.

He struggled towards them through the crowd, occasionally using his bag as a very gentle battering ram. Astaari was on the ground by the time he reached them, and Dorian dropped his bag and knelt down to wrap his arms around her. She clung to him wordlessly, and Dorian buried his face in her hair. He never wanted to let go again.

He held her tightly until she leaned back and looked him in the eye with all the seriousness a four-year-old can muster. “Why are you crying, Papa?” She asked him with a worried expression.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and pulled together a smile for her. “I just missed you, mellis.”

She nodded. “I missed you too, Papa. So did Tama.”

Dorian clambered to his feet, still holding onto Astaari, and turned to Bull with a watery smile. Bull smiled back, so widely that Dorian was a little worried his face would crack open. He had a bouquet of roses in his hand, and leaned down to kiss Dorian, wrapping his free arm around Dorian’s waist. Dorian didn’t care if people stared at them, he had his daughter in his arms, his husband at his side, all was right in the world.

“Good to be home?” Bull asked quietly while Astaari started filling Dorian in on the recent developments in day-care politics.