with much love to feylen, because she said “cullen after the war” <3
  • Cullen in the months after their final victory, face turning towards the sun, locks like molten gold, eyes full of wonder, his heart steady and a smile on his lips
  • Cullen finally free of clunky chains, still growing into his role as a Commander without a war, as a lover, as a man who is at peace and who decides about his future and the paths he’ll take
  • Cullen helping his soldiers, talking, providing aid and gold and praying away the demons away that still lingers in their and his head
  • Cullen meeting his family again, Rosalie jumping into his arms, looking so different and changed and Mia has dark circles beneath her eyes, but they’re alive with mirth and wide and she cries when they hug, while Branson doesn’t really know what to say and just takes his hand
  • Cullen laughing when Josephine wins another round of Wicked Grace and being tipsy, almost drunk, and Varric spins a heroic tale while Leliana orders more of everything
  • Cullen still playing chess against Dorian, winning ever so often, talking about the life they want to live, so much lighter in their words and expressions
  • Cullen awaking every morning, finding his love at his side, their warm body nestled against him, fingers wrapped around his hands and hair tickling his nose, always a soft promise between them
  • Cullen being alive, nearly bursting with bliss, thanking the Maker and Andraste, the nightmares and past pains are dimmed, nearly gone and there is so much to feel, to hold, to love
  • 。◕ ‿ ◕。

John appears absolutely miserable, but he still looks at you like you should be wrapped up in paper and ribbon under his Christmas tree. His eyes are bloodshot, watery and positively huge without his glasses, and he’s a perfect disaster, really.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“Yeah, I heard you the first ten thousand times. I get that you’re sorry, John, but shit, we’re going to—“ something stirs under the water, sinuous and wrong, coiling in ways nothing human should. The hair on your nape prickles. “…what is that?“

“I— what is what?” John stares at you, his pupils huge and hazy with sickness but trying for a smile, all innocence.

But there underneath the suds, where there should be legs. Aren’t. Any. Just. No. Your whole body moves, and you’re on your feet and crashing into the sink, mind reeling. “Oh my fucking god,” you can hear yourself shriek, and your own voice seems to spiral away into the distance, a shellshocked part of your mind still kneeling at the edge of the bathtub, looking at… at… “JOHN IS THAT A TAIL. IT IS IT’S A FUCKING FISH TAIL JOHN WHAT THE FUCK.”

And John -your John- gives you this sheepish grin, scratches lightly at his chin with fingers-that-are-too-long. “Oh man, do- do we gotta talk about his now? Cause we were kind of… Karkat? Okay, uhm, never mind. Don’t forget to breathe. So. Remember when I told you we should watch Splash some time?” he begins, twisting to face you where you’re backed against the sink. A big, blue tail slaps casually against the tiles for leverage.

Your boyfriend is a goddamn mermaid.

“Haha,” you manage, and then promptly keel over.