She wakes, and she’s not startled to find herself in a strange bed. There’s no moment of sleep-bleared confusion, no profound moment where the events of the night before come flooding back in some vivid rush; this isn’t one of Varric’s stories, after all. She simply wakes, and breathes, and he is there beside her; and it’s hard to imagine that it hasn’t always been this way.
He looks like a stranger, dappled by the warm dawn light that spills across the bed, but there’s little surprise in that, either. She lies beside him, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he dozes peacefully, and for the moment he’s not Commander Cullen, but something softer, something untouched. His face, slack in sleep, looks impossibly young, a time-travel glimpse into some part of his life before, before the weight of duty etched lines into his brow and carved hollow circles beneath his eyes. His hair has been mussed into a glorious halo of bedhead overnight, separated into a mess of golden ringlets that spill across the pillow, and she smiles as she reaches out to gently run her fingers through one of the curls. This man truly is a stranger, so different from the carefully ordered Commander that she knows by day.
For a moment, she’s afraid to even breathe, reluctant to risk waking him. When he wakes, whatever magic the dawn light weaves will be broken, and he will become Commander Cullen again.
She likes Commander Cullen immensely … but Maker, she loves this man. This man who, somewhere halfway to the bed, sent some piece of armor or another crashing to the floor and let the weight of the world slip unnoticed with it, sliding gently from his shoulders to pool like fallen velvet on the rug. She loves this Cullen, fiercely and beyond all reason, this man who held her through the night with such unabashed wonder, such quiet and profound joy, that it was easy to forget that he’d ever been anything else but this, soft and new.
She can hear activity begin to stir beyond the broken ceiling, and she knows she should get out of bed, begin the task of dressing and preparing for her day. Slip out before she’s seen, out of some wistful desire to keep this theirs for another day or two more before Skyhold’s prodigious rumor mill inevitably gets hold of it.
But Maker, a moment like this feels too rare and precious to step away from. A gift she somehow can’t believe that she’s been given, in simply seeing him soft-eyed and smiling in his sleep.
She stays. And when he wakes, there’s no moment of confusion, no alarm at finding someone in his bed. There’s simply the crook of a sleepy smile as he turns his face into the pillow, a single amber eye peeking out from the tangle of his curls, a soft murmur of greeting.
She stays, and reaches for his hand, carefully threading her fingers with his; an anchor, as he drifts through this gentle liminal space, back to himself.
@eriecanary: I literally just found your comic and binge read all of it and? It’s so freaking cute? I love it and your art style so much I made a quick compilation of some of my favorite panels :D I either chose them for their cuteness or the amazingly hilarious faces. Like I swear Flowey makes some of the absolute best face ever. AAAAAA also your Underfell Pap is my favorite take on him ever!
Oh my! A new reader! Welcome, deary <3 Glad you like the comic!
I can see many beautiful panels there <3 Wow, you sure took some effort on this, didn’t you? I’m flattered <3 I hope you’re not too sensitive and like what’s going to come! Thanks for sending!
the thing about humans is that our sinful nature leaves us with holes in our lives… there is emptiness and areas that are void which desire to be filled, and desire to be full. I believe God allows this for a reason. He allows emptiness and loneliness to happen in our lives because how we choose to fill these voids shows how we feel about God. do you fill the emptiness with drugs? sex? relationships? money? see, it doesn’t matter what you fill it with—it will continue to fail you each time and leave you the same way. empty spaces were put there by sin and God allows it because He wants you to fill those parts with His truth… His love. He is enough, and sometimes you come to this realization by failed attempts to fill the holes in your life but He will always show you what’s truly needed. we need Him. every day. every minute. every second. we belong to Him. the emptiness cries out for God, and only He can make us full.
So it’s 2AM and I’m reading some fics and suddenly my mind is spinning
You know how one of the mysteries of Inuyasha is how chill Mama Higurashi is about her 15 year old daughter time-traveling through an enchanted well to go back a few centuries into an extremely dangerous world with a half-youkai she (Mama) barely knows and some other strangers she’s never met to repair a broken magic jewel and fight monsters, not to mention missing weeks upon weeks of school in the process? Kind of weird, right?
what if she knows
What if Kagome, after returning to the feudal era to live there at the end of the series (regardless of your opinion on whether or not the well stayed open)…what if she kept some kind of journal or other record? Wrote down all her experiences, her story, how things ended…and what if that record made its way down the generations into Mama Higurashi’s hands?
And she knew, even before Kagome fell down the well the first time, she knew.
She wouldn’t tell Kagome directly, of course, for fear of disrupting the flow of time, but it sure helped her to stay calm when her daughter came home with stories of jewels and bandits and monsters and frustrating hanyou.
She knew that, as dangerous as it was, that Kagome and her friends would win their battle in the end, and that her little girl would be safe, and that that gruff, dog-eared stranger would grow into a good man who her daughter would love and would protect her and give her a good life. She knew that it was ok if she wasn’t all over her schoolwork, because there was no use for a diploma in the feudal era.
She knew, and as such understood that she didn’t need to stop her daughter from taking this scary, dangerous journey. She just needed to support her, and it would all work out–because it already had, nearly 500 years ago.
Temperance- An emasculated figure that lugs heavy weights and shackles where ever it may go. It is incapable of most positions due to the restraints, which it can undo with the keys it clenches in its mouth. The creature doesn’t not eat or drink, it refuses to consume, for it fears to drop its keys and “loose control” of the restraints it put on itself.
Patience- a creature of mouths and silver tongues. Speaks kind things of humanity. The morals it speaks it does not inforce, and turns a blind eye and makes no action against cruelty and unfairness. It only opens its eyes when the things it says are “proven righ” but keeps them shut when contradicted.
Humility- Appears to be a knight in a suit of armour, fearlessly does anything it’s told and performs selfless deeds. Insight it’s suit it is completely hollow, and has no mind or will of its own
I MISS THE GOOD OLD DAYS WHEN I COULD SAY SOMETHING ENTIRELY ERRONEOUS OR CALLOUS, A BITING REMARK ENTIRELY SHUCKED OUT OF LEFT FIELD AND PEOPLE WOULD JUST TELL ME TO SHUT THE FUCK UP INSTEAD OF RIDDLING IT OUT AS A CONFESSION OF AFFECTION.