#luciouschest

why the FUCK is alvin and the chipmunks in your music

if you write one of them i absolutely will return to my multi and write the other with you

// we just all wanna see pretty fen legs ok, don’t kink shame us <3333

vigilflight replied to your post:

-coughs- lets negotiate

totallynotabloodmage replied to your post:

//fenris in utilikilt y/y

praeceptore-m replied to your post:

// shit yeah kilts are a thing I completely forgot kjhkdgkdhd

luciouschest replied to your post:

just put fen’s head on ander’s body or ander’s clothes on fen and boom done

the-tevinter-biscuit replied to your post:

     ‘ OH MY GOD, Varric Tethras?! ’

          ‘ turn back. ’ the sickly white of sun-bleached bone can be seen among the few dapples of light, sparse this deep in the graves, and this figure can hardly be distinguished from waifish branches and graceful shadow. but when a tree root begins to shift and groan like an awakening serpent, it can be no doubt that such a spectre can be none other than the emerald witch herself. ‘ we don’t want you here. ’

are you suggesting he wear nothing 

 because if so no

“Inquisitor.  I need you to do me a favor.”

How strange the Champion had sounded!  Behind the caustic carve of her syllables had lurked hesitance, or worry, or fear, or one of its siblings.  STILL STRONG, yes.  But humanity peaking through the parted curtains of her apathy.  Of her illness.

“Oh, Champion.  I —— that depends on the favor.”

“When we go to Adamant.  I don’t know which of your companions you plan to bring with you as part of your party.  I know they’ll all be there, but as for Varric — keep him far from you.”  A pause.  This is the more pressing issue.  “I’ll be with you, and I don’t want him to be near me.”

            How wise she’d been.  She thinks of it, beside Alistair, staring this monstrous creature.  With so many eyes and so many limbs and the shifting reddened eyes of herself when her gift is making her savage.  FINALLY, she thinks.  FINALLY.

            “A Warden must help them rebuild!  That’s your job!”

            Hawke is right.  And the Inquisitor knows she’s right.  Ahvir’s voice is agonized when it passes her lips, but she makes her choice and damns her hero.  “Hawke…”

“Uh — why?”  The elf’s brow had furrowed in confusion.  Hawke’s expression hadn’t changed.  How odd a request it must have sounded — that the Herald keep the Champion’s best friend from her.  And yet —

“He’ll try to protect me, and if things get bad, it will get him killed.”