Will you keep writing after ends even if Klaroline's not endgame? 😟
YES! I will write for Klaroline even after the shows end, regardless of the outcome. I wrote Roswell fic for four years after the show was cancelled. I will write as long as I have ideas and I still have a ton, even if it only to amuse myself. That is the beauty of fanfiction, you can write the characters you love for as long as you want, fixing what you didn’t like or writing them into scenarios you would love to see them him.
I’ve already been writing them for five years, why stop now?
(Ok, so I have spent the better part of the night amusing myself with thinking about this, so I decided to share it with you all. Imagine the Cullen romance as a really cliched romantic comedy, and what the trailer would look like with all the catchy music and people being overly perky and clumsy. And in that vein, allow me to present my really quick and vague take on how such a trailer would go.)
(The bold stuff is the voice over)
This is Nell, a Dalish
First that is far from home.
(Quick shots of Nell leaving
her clan, showing up at the Conclave, staring wide eyed around Haven, bumping
into people as the rush past her, probably a sweeping shot of everyone walking
through the Frostbacks towards Skyhold, etc)
(And of course during
all of this you have people occasionally saying witty things like Nell saying “It
was just luck that I’m here” and Varric saying “The good kind of luck or the bad?”
and then Nell smiling all self-deprecating like and rolling her eyes.)
Thrust into a position
of power that she’s not ready for,
(Shots of Nell being
offered the sword when she becomes Inquisitor, then her sitting and judging
someone, etc, and Dorian saying “Congratulations on that whole Inquisitor thing”
while she watches him leave with a worried frown.)
when she meets
Cullen, the commander of her armies and a man with a secret.
(Move to shots of
Cullen training the recruits and saying various lines like “That’s a shield in
your hand, block with it” and then some shots of him in the war room with the
others being introduced to Nell by Cassandra, and then him staring at the
philter box thing, etc etc etc.)
She’s a mage that
just wants to see a bright future.
(Nell talking to
various people about mage freedom)
He’s an ex-templar who
is trying to move on from his dark past.
(Cullen throwing his
philter at the door, punching the bookcase, talking to Cassandra, “If I cannot
endure this ” Nell stops him “You can”, various other things)
In a world that is
threatening to tear itself apart,
(Various shots of fighting
and Nell closing a rift and Cullen rallying the armies, those sorts of things, maybe
specifically Cassandra slamming Varric into the table and Solas threatening to
kill the mages who hurt his friend, dragons fighting, so on and so on)
can their love… seal
(Random shots of Nell and Cullen Yelling for each other,
because those have to be in it, then them kissing on the battlements, Cullen
saying “I have never felt anything like this”)
(Typical rom com music starts before this next part)
From the mind of
Writer and director
of THE CHAMPION OF KIRKWALL
(And end with Cullen
saying “Well this should be interesting, and Nell laughing before they rush off
to something followed by everyone else)
Excerpt from the book I’m working on. I amuse myself.
“Europa, who had been trailing only a step behind Marigold on their way down, had gotten distracted. A picture hung on the wall. It had caught Europa’s eye as she walked across the room. The old wooden frame held a photo of a woman, tall and thin. Her hair was pulled back in a bun, holding up a tiny solar tech bot no bigger than her thumb in one hand. It was the woman’s eyes that drew her in, the same deep clear blue that Icarus had, the same cleverness. “Who is this?” she asked, turning to Emma and Marigold.
Emma looked over at her. “Oh, that. That’s Cassandra, Icarus and my great grandmother. She was an engineer back Pre-Eco.” Emma gave a small shrug. “Icarus looks up to her.” It was clear that Emma didn’t hold the same deep admiration. She spoke with more easy indifference.
Europa kept examining the picture, looking at the ghostly image of this woman who had lived in Pre-Eco. What had she been like? Her life up at the end of global times? “What kind of work did she do?” Europa asked, buzzing with questions.
“She worked on the New Terra Ships,” Icarus said, walking down the ramp. Thick goggles hung around zir neck, sweat dripping from zir hair, fresh from the workshop. A wry, distant sort of smile had spread across zir face. “She spent her whole life working on those ships, designing their hulls, fixing their lugnuts, running their simulators. She dreamed of humans finally and forever breaking free of the Earth and living up in space. Dreamed of helping us escape our doomed little world. She believed in New Terra.” Icarus walked over and stared at the picture with Europa. “Her life work was those ships.”
“They worked,” Europa said. “The New Terra Ships all launched.”
“Yes. The New Terra evacuations went off without a hitch. And do you know what happened to my great grandmother?” Icarus asked. “Who spent her whole life building them? She couldn’t afford a ticket on one.” The look of bitterness that rose up on Icarus’s face took Europa back. “They made you buy a ticket for salvation, and she couldn’t afford one. She stood out on her front porch and watched the last New Terra Evacuation Ships leave her behind on our doomed little world because the people who built those ships weren’t worth it to actually be on them.”
Europa felt her heart fall. “That must have been hard for her.”
“Did you ever wonder who got picked to go? Over 20 billion people on the planet when the New Terra ships launched, and only enough space for a few million. It wasn’t the smartest, or the kindest, or the healthiest even. It was the rich bastards, the ones with all the money. It was all us poor folks who got left behind.” Icarus shook zir head. “Makes you sick, don’t it? No wonder there were so many riots after the last ship left. Who wouldn’t want to watch something burn after that?”
“Icarus,” Emma said gently. “Come eat. You can rage about the injustice of the past after you’ve eaten.” She said it somewhat teasingly, like she had heard it all before a million times.
“Emma lacks the proper outrage over our family’s exploitation in the final days before the Eco Crash by power hungry capitalists,” Icarus snorted, shaking zir head.
“Fine, let your food get cold,” Emma said, lifting up her fork to begin eating the steamed, spiced potatoes.
Bechaud, also known as Bechet, Bechar or Bechard, has power over storms, tempests rain, snow and hail, and other natural forces; over winds, frosts, thunderstorms, rains of blood, and of toads and other species. Also said: he controls all kinds of weather, be it wind, hail, rain or tempest, and will serve you with any weather for any task. Honorius says of him that he requires a walnut in sacrifice. (The True Grimoire, Jake Stratton-Kent)
Damn, Bechaud, you can make it rain bloody freaking frogs. Don’t you think a walnut sacrifice is selling yourself a little short?