Bearing Every Care

Prompts List

Here is where you can find my list of prompts for Dragon Age Drunk Writing Circle. I reserve the right to change and add to this list at any time - in fact I probably will do a lot of changes and additions, especially early on. I will do my best to update the list by crossing out completed prompts and adding links to writings as they apply.

NSFW and smut prompts are welcome! I don’t, however, deal with jealousy, non-con, or overt abuse.

For 1/26/24: I'm in the mood for some fluffy prompts, and I've added this year's Fluffuary prompt list to my links below. Some DAI-timeline prompts for Theresa/Cullen, or any of the DAI characters are especially appreciated! I'd also love some parent/child prompts for Theresa/Cullen.

My OC:

Theresa Trevelyan

Other Characters I Like to Write:

Cullen Rutherford

Cassandra Pentaghast

Josephine Montilyet

Varric Tethras

The Iron Bull

Leliana

Anora mac Tir

f!Hawke (purple, disaster bisexual)

Rosalie Rutherford

Branson Rutherford, his wife, and his kids

My Ships:

Cullen Rutherford/Theresa Trevelyan

Theresa~Bull (I really seriously love their queerplatonic vibes)

Dorian Pavus/The Iron Bull

Cassandra Pentaghast/Varric Tethras (and Cass&Varric, Cass~Varric, the two have a LOT going on lol)

Leliana/f!Cousland HoF

Isabela/Josephine Montilyet

Varric Tethras/Bianca Davri

f!Hawke/Fenris

f!Hawke/Athenril

Cullen&any of his siblings

Theresa&any of the Inner Circle (special mentions for Cass, Bull, Varric, and Dorian)

Hawke&Varric

Hawke~Pretty much the whole DA2 crew

Anora&Alistair (political but amicable marriage is my canon world state for them)

Tropes I Love to Write About:

Found/chosen family

Hope punk

Overcoming/coping with a traumatic past

Hurt/comfort

Healing

Fluff

Angst

Queer relationships

Queerplatonic (~) relationships

Political/courtly intrigue

Character introspection

Dichotomies such as want/need, public/private, light/dark, etc.

Situations I Love to Write About:

Cullen and Theresa post-Trespasser

Cullen and Theresa in Kirkwall

Cullen and Theresa being parents

Theresa navigating courtly intrigue

Cullen and Theresa - battle couple!

Cullen coping with addiction/recovery

Characters grappling with PTSD and how it manifests in their daily lives

People being messy

Relationship dynamics in all its beautiful/complicated/variant forms

Prompt Lists:

Halsey Prompts

Florence + the Machine Prompts

Hozier Prompts

Platonic Intimacy Prompts

Bottles of Thedas Prompts

High Dragons Prompts

Christina Rossetti Prompts

Enya Prompts

Eldritch Horror Prompts

Dark Magic Prompts

Edgar Allan Poe Prompts

Chapter 29: Choice (Reprise)

Theresa and her forces enact their plan to rescue the captured mages.

“Quiet down!” a guard shouted, making me jump. I’d been so focused on the mages I hadn’t noticed his proximity. The boy’s bravery quickly evaporated, and he ducked his head. But I, who’d spent too many years cowering beneath steel-edged scrutiny, stared him down. A mistake. I didn’t match the cowed and beaten expressions surrounding me. The guard stepped closer, studying me through the narrow visor of his helm. Shit, I thought. Shit, shit, shit, shit. Too late, I averted my gaze and tried to look meek. I both heard and felt his approach until his looming frame filled my vision. A hand roughly took hold of my chin to lift my face. Panic and revulsion swelled in me like a cresting wave, and it took every ounce of my willpower not to violently shove him away. I held myself still, enduring the violation of his hand on me. My shudder was involuntary, and soon became shivering, my entire body so tightly wound that it began to vibrate. My breathing caught up with my pulse. My vision swam. Hatred seethed beneath the surface as I tried not to wonder what cruelties that hand had inflicted. How many of my peers’ lives stained it. Which verses of the Chant he’d recited to justify them. My palm ignited, threatening to betray me. Behind me, Solas gripped my hand in his, trying to cover it. But the guard had seen, realization slowly dawning. Time slowed to a crawl, as if I was trapped in one of Alexius’ time rifts, as the Templar drew in breath to shout. I had failed. I’d given us away, and now all of these mages would be sacrificed. And I along with them. But before he could voice the warning on his tongue, a shrieking cry filled the night air. I looked up, following the sound to a winged shadow streaking across the sky. A hawk in flight. Taeris’ hawk. Our signal. “Now!” Solas shouted.

Thanks for the tag @p0lkadotdotdot! Tagging @crackinglamb and @rakshadow!

Theresa x Cullen

(I don't have any images or art of them sleeping together, but here's a lovely piece by @neonteeth of them at their second wedding!)

How often do they sleep together?

Once they're comfortable enough to actually sleep together, as often as they can! Which, unfortunately while Theresa is Inquisitor, isn't nearly often enough. The nights when Theresa is in Skyhold, and their schedules actually allow them a designated rest period that lines up, are few and far between.

Where do they sleep?

Most often in Cullen's loft, especially early on. It's more convenient, and by the time they're both ready for bed they're likely too exhausted to make the climb all the way up to her quarters. When they really want privacy though, they'll arrange for time in her room instead.

How do they prepare to sleep?

Prepare? Usually it's "work until you're too exhausted to stay awake, then stumble into the nearest bed and collapse". These two are notorious workaholics, and tend to fuel each other more than balance. Cassandra may have assigned aides to check in on them routinely to make sure they do actually sleep.

What do they wear to sleep?

During the Inquisition, Cullen always wears at least a pair of trousers to bed, just in case something urgent comes up in the middle of the night that requires his attention (it's rare but it happens... okay it happened once but you never know...). After the Inquisition is disbanded and they finally have a place of their own though, he sleeps naked or just his smalls. He's a hot sleeper lol.

While in Skyhold or their home, Theresa usually has some sort of shift or undershirt on, no trousers or smalls. Rarely will she sleep fully naked unless the sleep is post-coital. She has been known to steal one of Cullen's shirts on occasion.

Do they cuddle?

Oh absolutely. Touch is a love language they both share, and especially during Inquisition this is one of the few times they can actually do so without prying eyes. Most often, Cullen is on his back and Theresa is curled up against his chest. Though they do also swap big spoon and little spoon. Or sleep facing each other, his chin on her head and her face nuzzled into his shoulder.

What are their preferred sleep positions?

They're both restless sleepers, so will tend to move around a lot before they find their comfy place. Most often, Cullen winds up on his back and Theresa on her side, and they'll be tangled up in each other somehow.

How easy do they fall asleep?

LOL no.

Do they toss and turn a lot?

Absolutely. See above. By morning, it often looks like a whirlwind came and took their sheets.

Do they snore?

Not really. Theresa drools sometimes, though, and Cullen talks in his sleep.

Who hogs the blanket?

They both do. It's like a tug of war with cuddling.

What do they dream about?

About their past and their anxieties, normally. For Cullen, it's all wrapped up in his guilt about Kirkwall, or the torture he endured in Ferelden's Circle. He also has a fear of forgetfulness (a byproduct of his years of taking lyrium). A lot of his dreams involve either being confined in small spaces, watching helplessly as someone he loves dies or leaves, or being lost and not knowing where or who he is.

For Theresa, it's either about the night she escaped from the Circle, or her ongoing fear that the legend of the Herald of Andraste will erase the person that is Theresa Trevelyan. She has a lot of dreams of being burned at the pyre while a crowd of worshippers watches and sings. Or of falling, or drowning.

How easily do they wake up?

They're both wound up tighter than a bow string, so it usually doesn't take much. Usually they wake themselves up -- or each other. Then there's a period of comfort offered by one to the other, since they're both well familiar with the tortures of the mind, before eventually falling back asleep.

How awake they are afterwards?

It depends on the night, but Cullen is more of a morning person than Theresa. He's up with the sunrise no matter what kind of night's sleep he's had. Unfortunately, if it was a bad night, he'll be in for a day of muscle aches and exhaustion, but he's become pretty good at powering through it (no he hasn't). Theresa's usually awake whenever others are, so once Cullen's up, so is she. She tends to be quieter in the mornings, though, while he will fill the silence with a running monologue of the day's task list.

Clean version under the cut!

Chapter 28: Unfinished Business

Theresa arrives in the Hinterlands, intent on saving the last remaining mages still left out in the wilderness. But there are a few complications.

“‘Theresa the Heretic’ does have a nice ring to it,” Dorian reflected. I eyed him long enough that he erupted into a grin and offered me an innocent shrug. “They’re going to keep calling you that regardless. Might as well own it.” “How did they even find these mages?” Fiona despaired, eyes wide with impatience. Her fists were braced on her hips, but she couldn’t fully hide the faint tremble in them. Some might mistake that for fear, or weakness of the body. I knew it was anger. I knew it, because I felt it just as deeply. Sketch shrugged. “They’re Templars. Isn’t that their job?” “How they found them is irrelevant,” I interjected, surprised at how cold I still sounded. It contrasted so sharply with the cauldron of rage stewing inside that I wondered how no one saw it. Or perhaps they did, because something in my tone had caused them all to stop and consider me warily, as if I might combust at any moment. I thought of Mattrin’s twisted, broken body, lying inches from me, eyes open and unseeing. I thought of the emaciated state of the rescued soldiers as they were led out of the cramped cell the Avvar had kept them in. And I remembered, with a sickened heart, the song of the Chant accompanied by the wet slash of steel through tender, innocent flesh. I crumpled the note in my hands, and let the burning rage within me out, just enough. The dry parchment caught quickly, and was soon nothing more than ash. A prelude. A promise. Looking at Fiona, but speaking for everyone’s benefit, I answered, “I’m going to rescue them. And I’m going to make an example of these Templars. Large enough that no one will dare to try this again.” And a crater to match.

Chapter 27: Wisdom's Mirror

Still reeling from Cullen's confession, Theresa seeks comfort. She doesn't get it, but she does receive something just as important.

“Have you ever…” I began delicately, “…learned something you wished you could unlearn?” His brows rose a fraction at the unexpected question, but otherwise his face was a mask of impassivity. “No,” he answered, simply. “Never?” “In my experience, it is always better to know than to remain in ignorance.” He gave a shallow, helpless shrug. “That is not to say the knowledge is always easy to bear. It is, more often than not, a heavy burden.” “But you’ve never regretted knowing?” “Ah.” The hard line of his mouth softened into the saddened wisp of a smile. “I did not say I don’t regret. But that is what it costs to learn. They are a pair. Regret is wisdom’s mirror.” Something passed over his eyes, then. A nigh-imperceptible change that in a face as subtle as his made a world of difference. He looked… older. It occurred to me I did not know his true age. He had none of the usual signs of aging — his face was smooth of worry or laughter lines, and the shadow of stubble on his clean-shaven head was dark, without any hint of white or silver. Yet he carried a burden of experience and patience that could only come with age. Is this what it meant to be a Dreamer? The prize and the price of all that knowledge and history guarded by the Fade? To carry the weight of years, of lives, that were not your own?

Thanks for the tag @theluckywizard!

Here she is! The gathering storm herself, Theresa Trevelyan. I have two main ongoing series for her - Reprises and Reprisals, which is set during the Inquisition timeline, and While Time Remains, my post-Trespasser series that will eventually build up to Veilguard.

More on her aesthetics below the cut!

Chapter 26: The Commander's Confession

Cullen has something important to tell Theresa.

Chapter 25: Way of the Knight Enchanter

Theresa has her first training session as a Knight Enchanter. Afterward, she begins to finally face some of the demons of her past.

“You will address me as ‘Commander’, recruit.” I imagined Cullen’s wry eyeroll, and bit back a smile. “Is that really necessary? This isn’t exactly an official rank.” “That is what it requires and deserves, recruit.” Her insistent repetition of that address was beginning to feel deliberate. “I teach the skills of the Knight Enchanter. It is a rank, it is a life. Understanding its hierarchy is the first step. You already know this. You were not made Inquisitor, and then taught to lead.” I wisely held my tongue on a snide remark that this is, in fact, precisely what happened. “I will teach you how to rise to your place. How to join your warriors, spectral blade in hand. How to command the ranks while standing beside them.” She fixed me with a hard stare. “Are you ready?” I remembered Cillian’s blade, infused with lightning, darting around the battlefield, too fast for the eye to follow. I remembered Lysette, sword in hand, standing between Corypheus and me. Mattrin, charging forward to avenge his comrades. Brycen and his men forming a shield wall around me. And Cullen, invoking the Herald of Andraste to rally the fighters around him. Every one of them stepping forward, toward certain death. In my name. I wanted to be worthy of such courage, such sacrifice. And to honor it. But more than that, I wanted to atone. I should have been the one protecting. Shielding. Rallying. It should have been me. It will be me. I bowed my head. “I am ready to learn, Commander.”

Chapter 24: Out of Reach

A productive meeting with Theresa's advisers leaves her exhausted, and lonely.

Finally, I gave up and simply asked. “And what’s the catch?” “The catch?” Josephine asked, just a touch too innocently. “You’re all watching me like foxes listening for the hound’s alert. What is it you’re expecting me to disapprove of?” This time, the exchanged glances were directed at Cullen. That didn’t bode well. He looked trapped, not entirely comfortable at having to take the lead. But to his credit, he faced me squarely, saying, “We know you intend to pursue training as a Knight Enchanter.” And there was the confirmation. The final log on the pyre that confirmed my suspicions. Aloud, I said, “And you disapprove?” “No,” Cullen said honestly, surprised that I would think so. “Knight Enchanters are highly respected, and their training is well-regarded as producing skilled and tactful warriors.” “But…” I prompted. “But… ” he acknowledged with wry exasperation, “they are often at the front lines. In the thickest of the fighting. If you insist on this path, we insist you be appropriately outfitted.” I arched an eyebrow. “You insist?” “Yes.” He was like a pillar facing me. Rigid. Immovable. “Much as I’d like to, I know we can’t talk you out of this. But this is the bargain.” More like an ultimatum. One that would, I knew, only further elevate me over those who followed me. I could refuse, but it would be foolish and pointless. It was obvious they were all in agreement, and would not back down. They had ways of enforcing my compliance, if it came to it. But they knew it wouldn’t.

Chapter 23: Gambit in the Gardens

Theresa enjoys a lovely game of chess, but not with the opponent she thought.

“I’m pleased you accepted the challenge,” he said at last, clearly fishing for something to say. With attempted humor, he added, “I was starting to worry you resented me.” An incredulous laugh escaped before I could stop it. Maker, I wished I could resent him. It would make things so much simpler. “Whatever gave you that impression?” He fixed me with a dubious stare. “You literally fled the room after our last council meeting.” “Not literally!”   His stare turned sardonic at my indignance. “Are you really arguing that you only fled figuratively?” A traitorous warmth began to spread across my face. “Merely objecting to the implication that I would cower from my own advisers.” “Only me, it would seem.” The flicker in his eyes belied the lighthearted jest, hinting at a deeper wound. “Well, I’m sorry to have given that impression,” I told him as earnestly as I could manage. “I assure you, that’s not the case.” But I must not have been very convincing, because he smiled sadly. “You’re doing it now.” “Doing what?” “Retreating.” With that one word, he laid me bare, and I was struck speechless. Watching him watching me, a light flutter started low in my stomach. The effect was dizzying. Like falling. Everything else fell away too. For a time, the whole world seemed to stop and hold its breath with us.

Theresa leads her party back to Skyhold at last, but the toll of their arduous journey is beginning to show.

Hunger woke me some time later. I was delighted and a little embarrassed to see a tray of pastries and coffee had been laid out for me while I’d slept—at the serving table and couch, which were new additions I hadn’t even noticed before falling into unconsciousness. A modest stack of letters was included, and I recognized Josephine’s elegant hand at the top of the pile. ‘Inquisitor, I had all your letters forwarded to my office while you were abroad. I’ve included only the most urgent here. Your guards have been instructed not to allow any visitors until morning. Rest, and replenish. Toward that end, I’ve taken the liberty of commissioning a coffee service for you, with some creative additions from our new arcanist. Note the heat runes engraved in the underside of the pitcher and mugs, and the lovely filigree accents. The gooseberry in the pastries are from a grand bush one of our scouts discovered growing wild down by the lake. Enjoy! —Josephine’ I devoured one of the pastries in three bites. It was divine, flaky and light with just the right amount of tartness. I consumed the next more slowly while I poured the coffee and perused the other letters. They were fairly standard, but time-sensitive. At least two that I recall were proposals, which amused me somewhat. Leliana had warned me such bold offers would soon be forthcoming. But then I encountered one that made me drop it and jump back, as though it were a viper. A name I knew, written in careful calligraphy I recognized intimately. ‘To the Inquisitor Theresa Trevelyan From Dowager-Lady Esme Trevelyan’ It was from my mother.

The Inquisition's time in the Fallow Mire draws to a close, but not without more hardships.

As glad as I was that they’d all decided to stay, packing my gear beneath the shadow of Solas’ disapproval lessened the feeling somewhat. “I would insist on waiting before rushing headlong into more battle,” he said to me eventually, hands clasped behind his back, “if I thought it would do any good.” “I cannot afford to sit idle.” “The rifts will still be there tomorrow.” “And how many more demons will they have spat out in the meantime?” I shoved the last healing potion into my pack and stood with a huff. “I’ve wasted too much time already.” “Surely the soldiers you rescued would argue otherwise.” “That Bull rescued,” I countered. “And their own fellow templars. I did little but humiliate myself with my own ineptitude and take advantage of the opportunities they created.” One of Solas’ eyebrows rose a fraction in surprise at my sudden bitterness. I pursed my lips, feeling my face grow hot at how much I’d just unintentionally revealed. And that only made me angrier. “Nevermind.” I shouldered my bag and pushed past him. “We should get moving. At least I can still prove to be of some use.” Solas said nothing further as he followed after me. But his silence was as loud as a battle horn.

She knows.

She knows why it has to be specifically a Grey Wardens who kills an archdemon. She knows what happens to them after.

"It doesn't have to be you, though. Right?" She tries to catch Rook's eye but Rook is refusing to look at her. "I mean, we'll be at Weisshaupt. There'll be hundreds of other Wardens."

But Rook's hand twitches at her hip, and Lace understands. The dagger that hangs there, that never leaves Rook's side for long. The dagger that drew the singular attention and wrath of Ghilan'nain directly down on her head during the dragon attack. It saved a city, and maybe it'll save an ancient fortress.

But at what cost?

"No." Lace grabs Rook's hand, forces her to at least face her, even if she won't meet her eye. "It can't be you. The fight's nowhere near over and we need you."

She cannot lose another friend to this mess. She can't. If she has to move every stone in that fortress, she is not losing another friend to this mess. Not with so much still unsaid between them.

"We need you," she repeats.

Rook's eyes carry the faintest shimmer as she smiles brightly. "What for, if not for this?"

Hi! Thanks for the ask!

2. How Rook got their most prominent scar.

Harding: Rook, no.