I do miss Patlani and Davrin⌠I had horny things planned for them and also truly heartbreaking shit to explore. At least they live on in my brain and the randomly scattered documents where I put down thoughts.
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by disagreeing with me on this topic, you're aligning yourself with everyone else who disagrees with me, which includes the Chaos Death Cult, and they chaos kill people so....
was trying to find my niqab post to check what the # of notes was on that and i did in searching for it also find some of the weird anons I've gotten over the years. tumblrs a crazy space. found an anon I responded to where they said I shouldn't be calling out video game racism when I'm according to that anon actually a white man pretending to be a woman of color.
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why is fandom less fun when black ppl or aro ppl or trans ppl tell you to check your biases. if its 'just a headcanon' why is it such a big deal that ppl ask you to think about why you made it
why do you never engage with black characters, why do you always think the same type of character is transmasc/fem, why do you only find romance interesting to the point of ignoring plotlines so you can create ships
are we actually just being the fun police or are you just being a bigot. why is pretending we dont exist necessary for your enjoyment
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scientists are trying to discover something harder than getting out of bed to go to work in the morning. and dont make a fucking penis joke ok they already checked everyoneâs dick and it doesnât even come close
anyway. last night I had a dream that my local lesbian bar was hosting a âmotionless dance partyâ. it was sort of like the inverse of a silent discoâthe music is playing out loud but youâre doing all the dancing inside your own head. it was really successful like a lot of lesbians showed up to stand perfectly still in a room together and imagine what dancing would be like.
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its a shame I never posted some of the Patlani stuff I have when I was still doing all my dragon age stuff. I found a wip fic of them realizing they aren't a man.
It's not even a full thing but it is very fun to me. Figured I might as well share it. It's from years ago, unfinished, and unedited, and I straight up think I never posted it. I just rediscovered it like last night while I was trying to organize my computer.
Patlani is using he/him pronouns here because its their POV and at the time they had Not Realized yet and this takes place years before the game.
//
The night had started normally. The two of them were drinking, Zea had been trying her best to show Patlani how to play her lute. Patlaniâs attempts were half-hearted, smiles a little forced, his mind elsewhere.
It wasnât unusual, how could he not be thinking of other things. As much as Patlani enjoyed every moment with Zeaâthese meetings were perhaps the only thing in his life he had to look forward toâthey were infrequent. It wasnât easy to get away from the Crows, wasnât easy for their paths to cross. It was not as if Patlani was free to roam as he pleased, he had been in the Crows possession for more than 20 years by now, the Crows knew how to keep him on a tight leash. He had to wait, hope that whatever contract he was sent off on was one in her general direction.
It wasnât easy to pin down a general direction, though. Zea had her own commitments, her own work she had to do. She wasnât always with the Shadow Dragons, she frequently traveled, frequently returned to her clan, to Rivain.
They were there now, in some town along the coast Patlani didnât remember the name off, sitting together on a balcony at some inn, overlooking Rialto bay, passing a bottle of wine back and forth.Â
It was comforting, familiar in a way Patlani would never admit, that he knew was foolish to let himself grow attached to. How many times had they done this? They would meet, drink, often end up in a bed, though on more than one occasion they were both too impatient to make it there. Some nights though, they would just sit together, talk.
Zea did most of the talking, she always did, she was a natural storyteller, sometimes she could even get Patlani to smile. And itâs not like Patlani had much to say. What could he tell Zea? How could he tell her about his life? He couldnât subject her to that.
Patlani only half listened as Zea idly strummed her lute, having finally relented on trying to teach him, told him about what she had been doing before coming to meet him. She had visited her clan, her family. Her smile was so radiant as she told Patlani about her newborn niece, how happy she was to be an aunt, how beautiful the naming ceremony was the previous day. She still had flowers tucked behind her ear.
The previous day Patlani had been in the middle of a contract. Some minor noble who crossed the wrong person. He had a penchant for young elven men, part of why Patlani had been chosen to do it. He didnât like taking contracts that were too hands-on, but he was the only man who wasnât already on a contract and the client had paid enough to ensure there would be no delay. Itâs not like Patlani had a choice, he was used to it by now. Patlani had felt nothing when he saw the fear in the noblemanâs eyes when he slit his throat, left his body crumpled on the bedroom floor as he slipped out of the window. He still had bruises from where the man had held him.
Zea didnât need to know that. So Patlani didnât tell her. The same way he didnât tell her the hell he faced those years ago when she convinced him to spare her friend. (She had seen the scars, she called them beautiful once, if she had knownâŚ)
Patlani looked over to Zea, she smiled at him, offered him the bottle. Her fingers lingered on his for a moment as Patlani took it from her, before she returned to playing her lute. Patlani took a sip, eyes still on Zea.
He wanted to relish this, be present at least for this. For the sight of Zea lit by moonlight, the content expression on her face as she looked out over the water, the elegant way her hands moved as she played. Her skirts, her loose shawl fluttered in the gentle breeze. She looked serene, comfortable, beautiful.
âI wish I could be like you,â Patlani said, longingly, wistfully.
His own words startled him, stomach twisting as Zea stopped her song, looked over at him curiously.Â
Patlani didnât even fully know what he meant. He hadnât been able to name it, dissect the feeling in his chest when he saw Zea. He didnât want to, he told himself, tried to dismiss it.Â
His words could have meant anything, he told himself. That he was envious of her abilities; her music, her magic. Maybe he was envious of her culture, the connection to the Dalish that Patlani had been denied (sometimes at night he wished she never told him, that he never knew, but he would never tell her that). Maybe Patlani reasoned he was simply vain, jealous of her beauty. Zea was beautiful, one of the most beautiful women Patlani had seen. On occasion people had called Patlani handsome, he certainly didnât feel that way, but he was handsome enough it seemed, it was an asset to the Crows, the fact that he was a decent looking manâ
Patlani hadnât realized Zea had moved until he felt her hand on his arm, warm, gentle, reassuring. She had touched him countless times, itâs why they met up half the time, what this meeting was likely going to lead to. This touch was different though, the look in her eyes different. Patlani couldnât name the expression on her face.
âYou donât have to be a man,â Zea said softly, âYou know that, right?â
He should have. How much of Thedas had he traveled, how many people had he met from all walks of life, long before he met Zea? He understood the concept, it wasnât hard to grasp. Zea had known him for years now, they were close, she didnât mind bringing up stories from when she was younger, before she was the woman Patlani knew. Butâ
âIâItâs not the same, itâs different, Iâm notââ He floundered, like a fish out of water, âItâs fineâIâm notâI canââ
I can live with being a man, he wanted to say. The words wouldnât come out. He wanted to say it. He knew how to lie, he was exceptional at it, he wouldnât have been allowed to survive his training if he couldnât. The truth didnât matter, his feelings didnât matter, nothing mattered. He was a Crow, an assassin, a heartless killer.
Under Zeaâs soft, knowing gaze, Patlani felt naked. No, not naked, she had seen him naked countless times, countless people had, it didnât bother him for the most part. He would much rather be naked, much rather just go to bed with Zea like he always did and imagine these last few minutes never happened, at least that would be familiar.
âYou donât seem fine,â Zea said.
That at least Patlani couldnât argue with.
There was a reason he took so many jobs that were far away from home, there was a reason he took stupidly dangerous jobs, a reason he came to see Zea instead of reporting back after his contract, even when he knew the consequences.
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