Dan: You will never use that many sticky notes, that’s like 1000. Phil: I’m just going to use them to leave messages for you around the house.
So, it begins.
Dan finds the first one on his wardrobe.
Then, there’s one on the door.
Another one on the fridge. ((of course he finished the cereals))
On the keyboard of his laptop. ((*blushes*))
Even on the toilet paper. ((omg phil ur so weird))
After a few days, Dan finds another post-it on the wall.Although it’s not funny anymore, he decides to answer because, well… it’s Phil.
They keep writing to each other even if they live in the same house. ((we’re hopeless lol))
Okaaaaay, I don’t even know what I’ve done ????? I apologise for my bad handwriting and I hope I wrote all the words correctly, lol. I don’t know, when I heard Phil talking about leaving random sticky notes around the house, I thought it was soooo cute, so I made a few (?). Oh, and the things I put in brackets are Dan’s thoughts.
I’ve been pretty good.. besides the fact that I have a weird cough, my lungs have been feeling tight on and off for the last couple of days, my heel/ankle has been hurting for the past week, I’m breaking out, I have a weird rash/irritation on my hands?? I don’t know why or how but it’s stressing me out… and I’ve randomly, out of the blue been feeling like I need to cry… what even -.-
It had been fairly quiet up until then, when the shouts and clanging of metal rose in the usually peaceful forest air. Cullen’s head swiveled, armored hands tugging at the reins causing his gelding to shake his head and stall, pawing at the soft, fertile ground. The Commander’s icy blue gaze flickered to the troops lined up behind him, and he unsheathed his sword, lifting his head proudly, “To arms, men! Up ahead is the encampment. The place will be crawling with bandits- those are our targets- and remember, do not, under any circumstance, unless deemed /absolutely/ necessary, attack any of the elves. We are here to assist them, not to assault them. Remember that the Inquisitor sent us here in order to protect them. Now- Attack!”
Tugging sharply on the reins once more, he leaned forward, lifting his sword as they dove into the fray, arrows whizzing by, swords slashing, and shields pummeling. He made quick work of cutting a few bandits down, the Dalish initially skittish and horrified at the Inquisition’s army’s sudden appearance, but the tension dissolving once they processed the forces were there to assist them. Cullen didn’t have such time to process, as an arrow struck his horse’s shoulder, causing it to rear up and throw him to the ground, leaving him breathless with his armor digging into his back and arms. A bandit rushed upon him, hefting their sword up into the air, bringing it down as the ex Templar rolled to his side with a hiss, reaching desperately for his own sword as the other man lifted his again. He jolted up as a blast of flames shot over him, and for a moment the old Templar part of him was back, until he processed the bandit being blown away to the ground, screaming in agony as the fire enveloped him and swallowed him whole. Looking up, he saw the fire’s source: a lithe, white haired elven woman, who was carrying a wooden staff that appeared like a knotted tree branch, little flames licking the air from her fingertips.
She grabbed him by the bicep, hauling him up off the dirt and to his feet roughly, prepping for another wave of bandits.
“Thank you,” he managed softly, a little out of breath as he plucked his sword from the ground, shield as well.
The elven mage only nodded, narrowing her eyes at the oncoming warriors and rogues, thrusting her hands forth, vines and roots rising from the soil on command and throwing the men and women back.
Cullen watched for only a moment before turning into the battle once more, swinging his sword with great ease, blocking with his shield, and dodging most attacks that came his way.
Within half an hour, with the Inquisition’s help, the Dalish had driven the bandits from their lands, and crimson had soaked the earth where the remaining elves and soldiers stood. There were a handful of casualties, and the Commander watched solemnly as some of his man were carried out of the camp, their lifeless forms thrown over the backs of their horses.
He shook his head, hot blood and sweat dripping into his face, into his eyes, to the point where he didn’t notice an elven healer walk up to him until a small set of clammy hands were pressed against his cheeks, and a cold rush of magic rippled through him, vanquishing any pain from the minor injuries he had received in battle. Upon looking up, he recognized the elven woman from before, and nodded in gratitude,
“Thank you, my lady.” He whispered, and she reciprocated the small gesture before turning back to her clan wordlessly.