138948 réponses à ce sujet

[obsessedwjpn]

Wow, Lost in Anarchy, you are amazing! So glad to have you here with us *hugs*

 

Thanks for all your likes in the other thread btw, the one about Cullen as the Inquisition's military adviser.

[obsessedwjpn]

Yes, it does. I'm hoping for something similar. Like, you flirt with him for the first time, and he reacts kind of like, "It's inappropriate/not the right time/I'm busy, let's talk later," maybe stuttering a little. And then he realises the Inquisitor is still interested, and they get to know each other better, and he starts flirting back? Or maybe pays a compliment? Maybe hug-attacks us at some point?

 

I like the idea of a hug-attack! The Inquisitor is walking all seriously down a corridor in Skyhold and suddenly Cullen shoots out from behind a pillar and launches himself on top of her. GOTCHA!

[Lost_In_Anarchy]

Wow, Lost in Anarchy, you are amazing! So glad to have your here with us *hugs*

 

Thanks for all your likes in the other thread btw, the one about Cullen as the Inquisition's military adviser.

Thank you *hugs back* Happy to be here.

 

And you're welcome. All well deserved

[Boomshakalakalakaboom]

A quick fic prompt for you, my dear writers: Cullen comes across the place where the laundry is drying after the washing, and accidentally gets a good view of everyone's underwear. Including Cassandra's pink knickers with white hearts on them (everything Cass wears has hearts on it, this is my headcanon!). Bonus points if you include a sassy laundress who will tell what belongs to whom with snarky remarks.

OK ladies and gents, this took awhile because I'm on my tablet. Also my tablet sucks to type on so for any errors, I apologize! And the laundry lady came off as more wise than snarky

Spoiler

This... This was certainly not the way to the kitchens. Damn that Qunari and his incoherent drunken ramblings! Cullen huffed out a breath and frowned at his surroundings while inhaling the unmistakable scent of soap, were those... were those his small clothes? They were! And those were... Those were not his small clothes. He felt his cheeks warm as he peered across the room at the pretty white pair with small pink blotches flapping gently in the breeze beside his own. No, they were not his, not at all. But they were someone's. Cullen, at the worst of times, was a curious man and as he continued to stare the pink spots started to take shape and he inched closer to properly make them out.


Love hearts? Which of his companions could possibly be sporting a pair of smalls littered with love hearts.


"Can I help you, young man?"


Cullen jumped, startled by the husky scratching voice that sounded behind him. He turned his head slowly - cheeks burning more than he thought them capable of - and came face to face with a scraggly looking old woman.


"Likes looking at thems up theres underthings do ya?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.


"I, uh, no. Not particularly. I was... I was just seeing if mine were dry," he stammered while rubbing at the back of his neck.


The old woman grunted and dropped the basket that she held at her hip to the ground.


"Liar," she said with a small smile twitching along her lips. "Well since you're down here you can help an old woman out. Don't like to bends too much you sees, there's a good lad."


Cullen stood stiffly as she eyed him up and down. "Don't worry your pretty little head boy, I ain't telling no ones thats you were downs here looking at their intimates."


He gave a shudder, she made him sound so indecent. It wasn't as if he had come down here for that reason after all, but who was he to argue with an old woman? He crouched, grabbed a damp item from the basket with averted eyes and handed it to her.


"You can tells a lot about someone by their intimates, you know," she stated as her wrinkled hands pegged the clothing to the line.


"Your ones for example..." Cullen cut her off, "how do you know which ones are mine?" he asked.


She snorted, "it's obvious. Practical, very practical. Nothing flashy and they are the same color as thems crimson clothing you wears all the time. Matching, keeping order, just hows you like it."


Cullen stared at her stunned, how... how could she possibly know all of this from his smalls?


She smirked and her eyes twinkled with mischief. "Woulds you like to know more?" she asked and he nodded at her dumbly with his lips slightly parted.


"Well you haves already seen these, thems belong to that warrior woman. They be her lucky pairs, all them ones with the hearts. Always wears thems to battle. She gots a softness behind all that metal, bets you didn't know that nows, did ya?" Cullen shook his head and handed her another pair to hang up.


"Ah, now these, yes I knows these. Belongs to that horned pirate. Looks at thems, all tattered and raggedy. That one there has trouble letting go of his past. Buts one day something will breaks and he will haves to choose, hold onto the past or lets go and charge into the future."


He didn't know what to say to that and she patted his cheek indulgently as he continued to stare at the Qunari's small clothes that were coming loose at the seams. "Nots everything is as it seems on the surface my boy."


Cullen grasped another pair of smalls from the basket and handed them off. "And, uh, and these?" he asked quietly.


"These ones, well nows, these are special. These belong to someone who wants to feels pretty, to feels desirable. These belong to someone that wears pretty, little delicate smalls in case the man she wants to see them finally gets up the courage to uncovers them. These, well, they belongs to your fearless leader."


Cullen swallowed hard, they were hers. Should he look? He was barely through asking himself that before his eyes had darted to them. They were pretty, very pretty. They appeared to be almost silky in texture, so much so that he wanted to reach out and rub the fine material between his fingers. They were perfect, cream colored and almost sheer with a red ribbon weaved through the eyelets that made two lines down the front. These were what she wore beneath all that armor? He pulled in a sharp breath and flicked his eyes from the smalls back to the old woman and she chuckled.


"Now who is it you thinks she wants to see thems?" she asked while throwing him a wink.

[LolaLei]

I like the idea of a hug-attack! The Inquisitor is walking all seriously down a corridor in Skyhold and suddenly Cullen shoots out from behind a pillar and launches himself on top of her. GOTCHA!

 

LOL, that sort of action could end up with an elbow to the face if the Inquisitor mistook him for an enemy!     

[Boomshakalakalakaboom]

OK ladies and gents, this took awhile because I'm on my tablet. Also my tablet sucks to type on so for any errors, I apologize! And the laundry lady came off as more wise than snarky

Spoiler

This... This was certainly not the way to the kitchens. Damn that Qunari and his incoherent drunken ramblings! Cullen huffed out a breath and frowned at his surroundings while inhaling the unmistakable scent of soap, were those... were those his small clothes? They were! And those were... Those were not his small clothes. He felt his cheeks warm as he peered across the room at the pretty white pair with small pink blotches flapping gently in the breeze beside his own. No, they were not his, not at all. But they were someone's. Cullen, at the worst of times, was a curious man and as he continued to stare the pink spots started to take shape and he inched closer to properly make them out.
Love hearts? Which of his companions could possibly be sporting a pair of smalls littered with love hearts.
"Can I help you, young man?"
Cullen jumped, startled by the husky scratching voice that sounded behind him. He turned his head slowly - cheeks burning more than he thiugh t capable of - and came face to face with a scraggly looking old woman.
"Like looking at them up there's underthings do ya?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I, uh, no. Not particularly. I was... I was just seeing if mine were dry," he stammered while rubbing at the back of his neck.
The old woman grunted and dropped the basket that she held at her hip, to the ground.
"Liar," she said with a small smile twitching along her lips. "Well since you're down here you can help an old woman out. Don't like to bend too much you see, there's a good lad."
Cullen stood stiffly as she eyed him up and down. "Don't worry your pretty little head boy, I ain't telling no one that's you were down here looking at their intimates."
He gave a shudder, she made him sound so indecent. It wasn't as if he had come down here for that reason after all, but who was he to argue with an old woman? He crouched, grabbed a damp item from the basket with averted eyes and handed it to the woman.
"You can tell a lot about someone by their intimates, you know," she stated as her wrinkled hands pegged the clothing to the line.
"Your ones for example..." Cullen cut her off, "how do you know which ones are mine?" he asked.
She snorted, "it's obvious. Practical, very practical. Nothing flashy and they are the same color as them crimcon clothing you wears all the time. Matching, keeping order, just how you like it."
Cullen stared at her stunned, how... how could she possibly know all of this from his smalls?
She smirked and her eyes twinkled with mischief. "Would you like to know more?" she asked and he nodded at her dumbly with his lips slightly parted.
"Well you have already seen these, them belong to that warrior woman. They be her lucky ppairs, all them ones with the hearts. Always wears them to battle. She got a softness behind all that metal, bet you didn't know that now, did ya?" Cullen shook his head and handed her another pair to hang up.
"Ah, now these, yes I know these. Belong to that horned pirate. Looks at them, all tattered and raggedy. That one there has trouble letting go of his past. But one day something will break and he will have to choose, hold onto the past or let go and charge into the future."
He didn't know what to say to that and she patted his cheek indulgently as he continued to stare at the men's small clothes that were coming loose at the seams. "Not everything is as it seems on the surface my boy."
Cullen grasped another pair of smalls from the basket and handed them off. "And, uh, and these?" he asked quietly.
"These ones, well now, these are special. These belong to someone who wants to feel pretty, to feel desirable. These belong to someone that wears pretty, little delicate smalls in case the man she wants to see them finally gets up the courage to uncover them. These, well, they belong to your fearless leader."
Cullen swallowed hard, they were hers. Should he look? He was barely through asking himself that before his eyes had darted to them. They were pretty, very pretty. They appeared to be almost silky in texture, so much so that he wanted to reach out and rub the fine material between his fingers. They were perfect, cream colored and almost sheer with a red ribbon weaved through the eyelets that made two lines down the front. These were what she wore beneath all that armor? He pulled in a sharp breath and flicked his eyes from the smalls back to the old woman and she chuckled.
"Now who is it you think she wants to see them?" she asked then threw him a wink.

And I will just post them again because it ended up right on the bottom

Edit: this is un-edited, read the better version on the previous page

Modifié par Boomshakalakalakaboom, 08 juillet 2014 - 10:43 .

[LolaLei]

OK ladies and gents, this took awhile because I'm on my tablet. Also my tablet sucks to type on so for any errors, I apologize! And the laundry lady came off as more wise than snarky

Spoiler

This... This was certainly not the way to the kitchens. Damn that Qunari and his incoherent drunken ramblings! Cullen huffed out a breath and frowned at his surroundings while inhaling the unmistakable scent of soap, were those... were those his small clothes? They were! And those were... Those were not his small clothes. He felt his cheeks warm as he peered across the room at the pretty white pair with small pink blotches flapping gently in the breeze beside his own. No, they were not his, not at all. But they were someone's. Cullen, at the worst of times, was a curious man and as he continued to stare the pink spots started to take shape and he inched closer to properly make them out.

Love hearts? Which of his companions could possibly be sporting a pair of smalls littered with love hearts.

"Can I help you, young man?"

Cullen jumped, startled by the husky scratching voice that sounded behind him. He turned his head slowly - cheeks burning more than he thiugh t capable of - and came face to face with a scraggly looking old woman.

"Like looking at them up there's underthings do ya?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I, uh, no. Not particularly. I was... I was just seeing if mine were dry," he stammered while rubbing at the back of his neck.

The old woman grunted and dropped the basket that she held at her hip, to the ground.

"Liar," she said with a small smile twitching along her lips. "Well since you're down here you can help an old woman out. Don't like to bend too much you see, there's a good lad."

Cullen stood stiffly as she eyed him up and down. "Don't worry your pretty little head boy, I ain't telling no one that's you were down here looking at their intimates."

He gave a shudder, she made him sound so indecent. It wasn't as if he had come down here for that reason after all, but who was he to argue with an old woman? He crouched, grabbed a damp item from the basket with averted eyes and handed it to the woman.

"You can tell a lot about someone by their intimates, you know," she stated as her wrinkled hands pegged the clothing to the line.

"Your ones for example..." Cullen cut her off, "how do you know which ones are mine?" he asked.

She snorted, "it's obvious. Practical, very practical. Nothing flashy and they are the same color as them crimcon clothing you wears all the time. Matching, keeping order, just how you like it."

Cullen stared at her stunned, how... how could she possibly know all of this from his smalls?

She smirked and her eyes twinkled with mischief. "Would you like to know more?" she asked and he nodded at her dumbly with his lips slightly parted.

"Well you have already seen these, them belong to that warrior woman. They be her lucky ppairs, all them ones with the hearts. Always wears them to battle. She got a softness behind all that metal, bet you didn't know that now, did ya?" Cullen shook his head and handed her another pair to hang up.

"Ah, now these, yes I know these. Belong to that horned pirate. Looks at them, all tattered and raggedy. That one there has trouble letting go of his past. But one day something will break and he will have to choose, hold onto the past or let go and charge into the future."

He didn't know what to say to that and she patted his cheek indulgently as he continued to stare at the men's small clothes that were coming loose at the seams. "Not everything is as it seems on the surface my boy."

Cullen grasped another pair of smalls from the basket and handed them off. "And, uh, and these?" he asked quietly.

"These ones, well now, these are special. These belong to someone who wants to feel pretty, to feel desirable. These belong to someone that wears pretty, little delicate smalls in case the man she wants to see them finally gets up the courage to uncover them. These, well, they belong to your fearless leader."

Cullen swallowed hard, they were hers. Should he look? He was barely through asking himself that before his eyes had darted to them. They were pretty, very pretty. They appeared to be almost silky in texture, so much so that he wanted to reach out and rub the fine material between his fingers. They were perfect, cream colored and almost sheer with a red ribbon weaved through the eyelets that made two lines down the front. These were what she wore beneath all that armor? He pulled in a sharp breath and flicked his eyes from the smalls back to the old woman and she chuckled.

"Now who is it you think she wants to see them?" she asked then threw him a wink.

 

That was awesome!!!

[loominousfish]

And I will just post them again because it ended up right on the bottom

 

And that just means you get double the likes! Have all my LIKES!   *showers you with likes and shortbread*

[SamaraDraven]

A quick fic prompt for you, my dear writers: Cullen comes across the place where the laundry is drying after the washing, and accidentally gets a good view of everyone's underwear. Including Cassandra's pink knickers with white hearts on them (everything Cass wears has hearts on it, this is my headcanon!). Bonus points if you include a sassy laundress who will tell what belongs to whom with snarky remarks.

 

Spoiler

 

"Can I help you, messere?"

 

Cullen blinked as the Orlesian woman who scrubbed their clothes stared unblinking at him. Her hands were red from the heat of the water they'd just been in and she seemed unperturbed by it.

 

"I came to scrub my own trousers for tomorrow since I have none clean, it seems."

 

The laundress affected a feigned gasp that sounded more like she was choking. "Are you accusing me of not doing my job?"

 

Cullen fidgeted a moment, knowing this could go very badly for him if his answer offended her but the truth was that he did think this. Saying so would not work in his favor. He scanned the room and took in all the lines of garments hanging to dry and piles of dirty linens on the floor. The room had three large tubs for washing - all of them were full.

 

Suddenly his honest opinion seemed incorrect and more than a little shameful. He shook his head. "No. I think you do too much. You obviously could use some help down here."

 

He rolled up his sleeves and approached a basin and saw everyone's assorted dark trousers swimming in the near-scalding water. He grimaced as the heat felt like it would peel his skin off his knuckles but the laundress smiled quizzically at him and continued scrubbing as well.

 

"I have been saying for months now that the Inquisition has too many bodies for me to keep up anymore," the woman said; "but does anyone listen me? Nooo!"

 

Cullen just smirked and continued washing. The pants he'd been working on were Varric's. No one else had leathers so short. He held them up to assess his handiwork.

 

"Ah!" the laundress yanked them from his grip with a grin. "I wondered where these went to. No doubt that maid girl thought they were pants. Silly child; I've told her i don't know how many times - "

 

Cullen swallowed. "What? Told her what?"

 

The laundress looked at him. "I keep the shirts with shirts and pants with pants and so on."

 

When understanding didn't dawn on cullen's features, she began to laugh. "Those are Iron Bull's smalls."

 

Cullen's stomach dropped and he nearly slipped thought he had been standing still.

 

The laundress laughed again. "Come." She held a hand out and he followed her when she tugged him around a partition. "See? Smalls go together. Keeps the mites from spreading too badly."

 

Behind the screen were racks hung with scraps of linen, cotton and leather. Three heavy pairs of what looked to be Varric's pants weighed heavily on a line, nearly touching the floor.

 

"No wonder he always seems a bit ripe, eh?" The maid elbowed Cullen conspiratorily.

 

He smiled obligingly back at her.

 

A bright patch of pink caught his attention and when he looked closer...

 

"Hearts?" He really shouldn't have asked.

 

The Orlesian guffawed. "Cassandra was quite the princess in her childhood. I guess, deep down she still is."

 

Cullen looked away, not wanting to be disrespectful but a flash of tacky, red silk caught his eye and he couldn't help a smirk. "Let me guess... Varric?"

 

The maid looked impressed. "Very good! At least his are always clean and in good repair. I have enough crotches to sew up without dealing with silk."

 

There were a lot of the silk and satin smalls, Cullen noted. He counted ten hanging there and his eyes shot wide. Next to the last pair was a tiny scrap of bright blue lace. His face screwed up at the sight.

 

"Pathetic, no? That Vivienne refuses to wear anything practical."

 

Long gray, thin breeches were draped over a tressle and Cullen just knew they had to be...

 

"Solas..."

 

The maid nodded. "I have trouble telling his pants from his smalls since they look about the same. But as long as he knows which is which I don't care."

 

Cullen found himself momentarily horrorstruck by the thought that he might have seen the mage traipsing about in his smalls, silently crowing at them all for not catching on. He shook his head to clear the image.

 

Poofy white and blue fabric hanging on its own was next in line. They were a pair of pantaloons. He didn't need to ask who they belonged to - the name was helpfully stitched in the back of the waistband and it read, "Dorian"

 

"As if anyone in their right mind would steal his smalls!" the laundress exclaimed. "Same as with that Grey Warden fellow."

 

She pointed at a rack of blue and silver cotton shorts with a griffon emblazoned on the front. The laundress wandered in front of them and posed with her hands clawed, "I am a lion! Rawr!"

 

When Cullen laughed, she straightened. "I mean, is it really necessary? Unless, of course, he's compensating for something..."

 

Cullen could only hide his mouth behind his hand and try not to shake too hard with his giggles. He was beginning to wonder if this strange tour of his teammates clothes was less about the laundress's opinion and more a matter of company. He doubted she had many visitors down here.

 

Next up was a sorry scrap of what appeared to be burlap, trimmed with delicate embroidered and half unraveled roses, hung precariously from a wooden pin. Cullen honestly had no clue whose they could be.

 

The lady of the laundry did though. "Ah Sera, Sera, Sera... Stubborn girl refuses to requisition anything else. She only has 3 pairs! The others look worse. I never see them anymore so I believe she's taken to washing them herself. She knows I'll give her an earful if I have to wash them again. I can't waste time trying to keep a rag from falling apart!"

 

A blush crept its way over Cullen's features, yet he chuckled with the laundress at her exaggerated distress at his fellows' eccentricities. He spotted his own linen small clothes on their own rack. The gold thread trim glinted in the firelight. He had nearly as many as Varric and that wasn't counting the pairs that lay in his hamper.

 

"And you, messere... Your bright red, gold and blue... I can't wash them with anything but those colors - they bleed into the wash so terribly!"

 

Properly chastised and a deep crimson shade, Cullen bit his cheeck to keep from laughing. "My apologies, my lady. They are standard issue."

 

She stared at him, unblinking. 

 

"I-I could order just the gray ones if that would help?"

 

She stared at him a moment longer and clucked her tongue once before turning away. "They add a nice bit of color to this dungeon, so there's no need for that."

 

Cullen ducked his head a moment and was about to ask about his pants when a thought occurred to him. He looked again and saw everyone accounted for except...

 

"She doesn't wear any."

 

"W-what?" Cullen whirled to look at the laundry maid.

 

"The Inquisitor," she said it as if he were dense. "She has no smalls."

 

***

 

Later that night, during supper; Cullen couldn't help hearing that knowing voice every time he looked at their leader: "She has no smalls..."

 

"Andraste's blood, I did not need to know that," he groused to himself.

 

Varric perked up. "What was that ser knight?"

 

"Nothing Varric," Cullen replied. The inquisitor had looked their way when she heard their exchange and his gaze caught hers. "Nothing at all."

 

Alright. Sorry if it's crap. I just banged this out in 30 minutes and I'm bleary eyed so have mercy. It wound up being longer than I intended.

[Boomshakalakalakaboom]

That was awesome!!!

Thanks everyone!

I wanted to do all the companions but on my tablet it is just too tedious to type for long lol

[Ava Grey]

I love how you all gave Cass girly undies with hearts on lol

 

Brilliant stuff. All of you

[Galagraphia]

OK ladies and gents, this took awhile because I'm on my tablet. Also my tablet sucks to type on so for any errors, I apologize! And the laundry lady came off as more wise than snarky

*awesome snip*

Aww, this was great! And reeeeaaaally cute! 

You guys are so talented! I love your fics! 

[LolaLei]

Spoiler

 

"Can I help you, messere?"

 

Cullen blinked as the Orlesian woman who scrubbed their clothes stared unblinking at him. Her hands were red from the heat of the water they'd just been in and she seemed unperturbed by it.

 

"I came to scrub my own trousers for tomorrow since I have none clean, it seems."

 

The laundress affected a feigned gasp that sounded more like she was choking. "Are you accusing me of not doing my job?"

 

Cullen fidgeted a moment, knowing this could go very badly for him if his answer offended her but the truth was that he did think this. Saying so would not work in his favor. He scanned the room and took in all the lines of garments hanging to dry and piles of dirty linens on the floor. The room had three large tubs for washing - all of them were full.

 

Suddenly his honest opinion seemed incorrect and more than a little shameful. He shook his head. "No. I think you do too much. You obviously could use some help down here."

 

He rolled up his sleeves and approached a basin and saw everyone's assorted dark trousers swimming in the near-scalding water. He grimaced as the heat felt like it would peel his skin off his knuckles but the laundress smiled quizzically at him and continued scrubbing as well.

 

"I have been saying for months now that the Inquisition has too many bodies for me to keep up anymore," the woman said; "but does anyone listen me? Nooo!"

 

Cullen just smirked and continued washing. The pants he'd been working on were Varric's. No one else had leathers so short. He held them up to assess his handiwork.

 

"Ah!" the laundress yanked them from his grip with a grin. "I wondered where these went to. No doubt that maid girl thought they were pants. Silly child; I've told her i don't know how many times - "

 

Cullen swallowed. "What? Told her what?"

 

The laundress looked at him. "I keep the shirts with shirts and pants with pants and so on."

 

When understanding didn't dawn on cullen's features, she began to laugh. "Those are Iron Bull's smalls."

 

Cullen's stomach dropped and he nearly slipped thought he had been standing still.

 

The laundress laughed again. "Come." She held a hand out and he followed her when she tugged him around a partition. "See? Smalls go together. Keeps the mites from spreading too badly."

 

Behind the screen were racks hung with scraps of linen, cotton and leather. Three heavy pairs of what looked to be Varric's pants weighed heavily on a line, nearly touching the floor.

 

"No wonder he always seems a bit ripe, eh?" The maid elbowed Cullen conspiratorily.

 

He smiled obligingly back at her.

 

A bright patch of pink caught his attention and when he looked closer...

 

"Hearts?" He really shouldn't have asked.

 

The Orlesian guffawed. "Cassandra was quite the princess in her childhood. I guess, deep down she still is."

 

Cullen looked away, not wanting to be disrespectful but a flash of tacky, red silk caught his eye and he couldn't help a smirk. "Let me guess... Varric?"

 

The maid looked impressed. "Very good! At least his are always clean and in good repair. I have enough crotches to sew up without dealing with silk."

 

There were a lot of the silk and satin smalls, Cullen noted. He counted ten hanging there and his eyes shot wide. Next to the last pair was a tiny scrap of bright blue lace. His face screwed up at the sight.

 

"Pathetic, no? That Vivienne refuses to wear anything practical."

 

Long gray, thin breeches were draped over a tressle and Cullen just knew they had to be...

 

"Solas..."

 

The maid nodded. "I have trouble telling his pants from his smalls since they look about the same. But as long as he knows which is which I don't care."

 

Cullen found himself momentarily horrorstruck by the thought that he might have seen the mage traipsing about in his smalls, silently crowing at them all for not catching on. He shook his head to clear the image.

 

Poofy white and blue fabric hanging on its own was next in line. They were a pair of pantaloons. He didn't need to ask who they belonged to - the name was helpfully stitched in the back of the waistband and it read, "Dorian"

 

"As if anyone in their right mind would steal his smalls!" the laundress exclaimed. "Same as with that Grey Warden fellow."

 

She pointed at a rack of blue and silver cotton shorts with a griffon emblazoned on the front. The laundress wandered in front of them and posed with her hands clawed, "I am a lion! Rawr!"

 

When Cullen laughed, she straightened. "I mean, is it really necessary? Unless, of course, he's compensating for something..."

 

Cullen could only hide his mouth behind his hand and try not to shake too hard with his giggles. He was beginning to wonder if this strange tour of his teammates clothes was less about the laundress's opinion and more a matter of company. He doubted she had many visitors down here.

 

Next up was a sorry scrap of what appeared to be burlap, trimmed with delicate embroidered and half unraveled roses, hung precariously from a wooden pin. Cullen honestly had no clue whose they could be.

 

The lady of the laundry did though. "Ah Sera, Sera, Sera... Stubborn girl refuses to requisition anything else. She only has 3 pairs! The others look worse. I never see them anymore so I believe she's taken to washing them herself. She knows I'll give her an earful if I have to wash them again. I can't waste time trying to keep a rag from falling apart!"

 

A blush crept its way over Cullen's features, yet he chuckled with the laundress at her exaggerated distress at his fellows' eccentricities. He spotted his own linen small clothes on their own rack. The gold thread trim glinted in the firelight. He had nearly as many as Varric and that wasn't counting the pairs that lay in his hamper.

 

"And you, messere... Your bright red, gold and blue... I can't wash them with anything but those colors - they bleed into the wash so terribly!"

 

Properly chastised and a deep crimson shade, Cullen bit his cheeck to keep from laughing. "My apologies, my lady. They are standard issue."

 

She stared at him, unblinking. 

 

"I-I could order just the gray ones if that would help?"

 

She stared at him a moment longer and clucked her tongue once before turning away. "They add a nice bit of color to this dungeon, so there's no need for that."

 

Cullen ducked his head a moment and was about to ask about his pants when a thought occurred to him. He looked again and saw everyone accounted for except...

 

"She doesn't wear any."

 

"W-what?" Cullen whirled to look at the laundry maid.

 

"The Inquisitor," she said it as if he were dense. "She has no smalls."

 

***

 

Later that night, Cullen couldn't help hearing that knowing voice every time he looked at their leader: "She has no smalls..."

 

"Andraste's blood, I did not need to know that," he groused to himself.

 

Varric perked up. "What was that ser knight?"

 

"Nothing Varric," Cullen replied. The inquiaitor had looked their way when she heard their exchange and his gaze caughter hers. "Nothing at all."

 

Alright. Sorry if it's crap. I just banged this out in 30 minutes and I'm bleary eyed so have mercy. It wound up being longer than I intended.

 

LMFAO! That Inquisitor is a woman after my own heart!     

[Boomshakalakalakaboom]

I don't know how best to do this so I did it as a spoiler because it is long. So on that note...
 

Spoiler

Cullen made his way into the courtyard. A cool, summer breeze flapping the lines of linens hung out to dry. In the distance, he could hear the low guttural cursing of the dwarven laundress, Indira.
“By my ancestors, how in the world does the Iron Bull walk with this string up his bum!” Indira exclaimed examining what appeared to be a large strand of rope as Cullen turned the corner. His face turning beet red as the small woman climbed her ladder, hanging the triangle shaped item with only a tiny piece of fabric on the line.
“Maker!” Cullen cried making Indira turn her head.
“Afternoon Ser Cullen. You just caught me in the middle of doing everyone’s knickers. Do you need me to add yours to the pile?” A cheeky grin curled on her full face at the ex-templar’s obvious discomfort.
“No, dear madam. I am quite set with my washing. Thank you”
“Ya sure serrah? I got everyone else’s. These here…” she point to the uncomfortable looking item from earlier, “are Bull’s and those…” She stretched a stubby finger toward a pair of pink, heart covered bikinis. “Are the Hero of Orlais’.”
Cullen’s eyes went wide with shock. “Those are Cassandra’s?! Cassandra Pentaghast?! Maker’s breath who knew.” A slight chuckle passed his lips.
“Aye serrah. She loves pink for some reason.” Indira climbed down her stool. Making her way down the line she pointed to various delicates waving in the breeze.
“These plain white ones, these are the Grey Warden Blackwell’s and these leathery lace things are Vivianne’s. Varric won’t let me touch his anymore, can’t imagine why.” Indira’s eyes darted shiftily around the patio. “I told him I didn’t have nothing to do with that pair of ‘I Heart Bianca’ boxer’s coming up missing.”
Cullen felt like he should excuse himself from this situation, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. There was one pair he was most intrigued to see.
“Cole of course don’t need any washing. Seeing as he’s a spirit and all, but he does help me when it gets to be too much.” Indira motioned for Cullen to lean down so she could whisper in his ear. “If you ask me, he took Varric’s boxers to get back at him for cheating at diamondback.” She looked around to see if Cole was listening, not like she could see him if he didn’t want her too.
“Anyway, where was I? Oh right, this blue silk boxers with the gold lace are Dorian’s. He makes me use a special potion he created to wash them. I don’t. He can wash his own damn drawers he don’t like how I do it.” Indira spit on the ground as a curse on the fussy mage.
“Sera has these cute boy shorts. I asked her where she got them, but she couldn‘t remember. They look comfortable.” Indira rubbed the fabric of a small pair of green shorts with a nug on the rear.
Cullen shook his head. “Andraste save me.” He muttered as Indira came to the last pair on the line. A homely looking pair of almost leggings in the most hideous shade of brown he had ever seen. They looked to have been made by hand and mended several times. This was what he had been waiting for all this time. He was obviously disappointed.
“And these right here are Solas’” Indira said matter of factly then spun on her heel to head back to the wash.
“Solas’?!” Thank the maker, Cullen said to himself.
“Aye”
Cullen cleared his throat then stepped toward the woman elbow deep in her wash bucket.
 
“Um, You didn’t say which were the Inquisitor’s. They must do their own laundry like me.” His voice cracked as he uttered the statement and Indira smirked to herself. Never turning her head from her task, Indira replied.
“No. The Inquisitor doesn’t wear knickers, serrah.” Indira heard a loud thump of something or someone falling behind her. A wicked cackle rang out into the late summer evening.
The END.

Oh, that ending was perfect lol

[SamaraDraven]

LMFAO! That Inquisitor is a woman after my own heart!     

 

haha! Indeed!

 

Edit: Alright I'm off to bed. Night all!

[LolaLei]

I love that both stories had Cassandra wearing knickers with hearts on and both with old women washing their undies, LOL!

[Lost_In_Anarchy]

Oh, that ending was perfect lol

 Thank you

 

Oh and I ran out of likes so for you and SamaraDraven's stories

 

[Boomshakalakalakaboom]

Spoiler

 
"Can I help you, messere?"
 
Cullen blinked as the Orlesian woman who scrubbed their clothes stared unblinking at him. Her hands were red from the heat of the water they'd just been in and she seemed unperturbed by it.
 
"I came to scrub my own trousers for tomorrow since I have none clean, it seems."
 
The laundress affected a feigned gasp that sounded more like she was choking. "Are you accusing me of not doing my job?"
 
Cullen fidgeted a moment, knowing this could go very badly for him if his answer offended her but the truth was that he did think this. Saying so would not work in his favor. He scanned the room and took in all the lines of garments hanging to dry and piles of dirty linens on the floor. The room had three large tubs for washing - all of them were full.
 
Suddenly his honest opinion seemed incorrect and more than a little shameful. He shook his head. "No. I think you do too much. You obviously could use some help down here."
 
He rolled up his sleeves and approached a basin and saw everyone's assorted dark trousers swimming in the near-scalding water. He grimaced as the heat felt like it would peel his skin off his knuckles but the laundress smiled quizzically at him and continued scrubbing as well.
 
"I have been saying for months now that the Inquisition has too many bodies for me to keep up anymore," the woman said; "but does anyone listen me? Nooo!"
 
Cullen just smirked and continued washing. The pants he'd been working on were Varric's. No one else had leathers so short. He held them up to assess his handiwork.
 
"Ah!" the laundress yanked them from his grip with a grin. "I wondered where these went to. No doubt that maid girl thought they were pants. Silly child; I've told her i don't know how many times - "
 
Cullen swallowed. "What? Told her what?"
 
The laundress looked at him. "I keep the shirts with shirts and pants with pants and so on."
 
When understanding didn't dawn on cullen's features, she began to laugh. "Those are Iron Bull's smalls."
 
Cullen's stomach dropped and he nearly slipped thought he had been standing still.
 
The laundress laughed again. "Come." She held a hand out and he followed her when she tugged him around a partition. "See? Smalls go together. Keeps the mites from spreading too badly."
 
Behind the screen were racks hung with scraps of linen, cotton and leather. Three heavy pairs of what looked to be Varric's pants weighed heavily on a line, nearly touching the floor.
 
"No wonder he always seems a bit ripe, eh?" The maid elbowed Cullen conspiratorily.
 
He smiled obligingly back at her.
 
A bright patch of pink caught his attention and when he looked closer...
 
"Hearts?" He really shouldn't have asked.
 
The Orlesian guffawed. "Cassandra was quite the princess in her childhood. I guess, deep down she still is."
 
Cullen looked away, not wanting to be disrespectful but a flash of tacky, red silk caught his eye and he couldn't help a smirk. "Let me guess... Varric?"
 
The maid looked impressed. "Very good! At least his are always clean and in good repair. I have enough crotches to sew up without dealing with silk."
 
There were a lot of the silk and satin smalls, Cullen noted. He counted ten hanging there and his eyes shot wide. Next to the last pair was a tiny scrap of bright blue lace. His face screwed up at the sight.
 
"Pathetic, no? That Vivienne refuses to wear anything practical."
 
Long gray, thin breeches were draped over a tressle and Cullen just knew they had to be...
 
"Solas..."
 
The maid nodded. "I have trouble telling his pants from his smalls since they look about the same. But as long as he knows which is which I don't care."
 
Cullen found himself momentarily horrorstruck by the thought that he might have seen the mage traipsing about in his smalls, silently crowing at them all for not catching on. He shook his head to clear the image.
 
Poofy white and blue fabric hanging on its own was next in line. They were a pair of pantaloons. He didn't need to ask who they belonged to - the name was helpfully stitched in the back of the waistband and it read, "Dorian"
 
"As if anyone in their right mind would steal his smalls!" the laundress exclaimed. "Same as with that Grey Warden fellow."
 
She pointed at a rack of blue and silver cotton shorts with a griffon emblazoned on the front. The laundress wandered in front of them and posed with her hands clawed, "I am a lion! Rawr!"
 
When Cullen laughed, she straightened. "I mean, is it really necessary? Unless, of course, he's compensating for something..."
 
Cullen could only hide his mouth behind his hand and try not to shake too hard with his giggles. He was beginning to wonder if this strange tour of his teammates clothes was less about the laundress's opinion and more a matter of company. He doubted she had many visitors down here.
 
Next up was a sorry scrap of what appeared to be burlap, trimmed with delicate embroidered and half unraveled roses, hung precariously from a wooden pin. Cullen honestly had no clue whose they could be.
 
The lady of the laundry did though. "Ah Sera, Sera, Sera... Stubborn girl refuses to requisition anything else. She only has 3 pairs! The others look worse. I never see them anymore so I believe she's taken to washing them herself. She knows I'll give her an earful if I have to wash them again. I can't waste time trying to keep a rag from falling apart!"
 
A blush crept its way over Cullen's features, yet he chuckled with the laundress at her exaggerated distress at his fellows' eccentricities. He spotted his own linen small clothes on their own rack. The gold thread trim glinted in the firelight. He had nearly as many as Varric and that wasn't counting the pairs that lay in his hamper.
 
"And you, messere... Your bright red, gold and blue... I can't wash them with anything but those colors - they bleed into the wash so terribly!"
 
Properly chastised and a deep crimson shade, Cullen bit his cheeck to keep from laughing. "My apologies, my lady. They are standard issue."
 
She stared at him, unblinking. 
 
"I-I could order just the gray ones if that would help?"
 
She stared at him a moment longer and clucked her tongue once before turning away. "They add a nice bit of color to this dungeon, so there's no need for that."
 
Cullen ducked his head a moment and was about to ask about his pants when a thought occurred to him. He looked again and saw everyone accounted for except...
 
"She doesn't wear any."
 
"W-what?" Cullen whirled to look at the laundry maid.
 
"The Inquisitor," she said it as if he were dense. "She has no smalls."
 
***
 
Later that night, during supper; Cullen couldn't help hearing that knowing voice every time he looked at their leader: "She has no smalls..."
 
"Andraste's blood, I did not need to know that," he groused to himself.
 
Varric perked up. "What was that ser knight?"
 
"Nothing Varric," Cullen replied. The inquisitor had looked their way when she heard their exchange and his gaze caught hers. "Nothing at all."

 
Alright. Sorry if it's crap. I just banged this out in 30 minutes and I'm bleary eyed so have mercy. It wound up being longer than I intended.

Lol very nice! Poor Cullen, look at what we are all putting him through

[Boomshakalakalakaboom]

Aww, this was great! And reeeeaaaally cute! 
You guys are so talented! I love your fics! 

That was fun, thank you for the challenge!

[Boomshakalakalakaboom]

I love that both stories had Cassandra wearing knickers with hearts on and both with old women washing their undies, LOL!

There's more fills on the previous page it was Galas prompt

[Boomshakalakalakaboom]

And that just means you get double the likes! Have all my LIKES!   *showers you with likes and shortbread*

You liked my "Theda's has fangirls too" on AO3! Thank you!

[loominousfish]

You liked my "Theda's has fangirls too" on AO3! Thank you!

 

You're welcome! I laughed so hard I snorted up orange juice. 'Twas excellent (your fic, not the snorting up orange juice part  )

[Yinello]

One day I will make a small fiction post of Cullen and the Dwarfquisitor for I have yet to see any (of course I could've missed it). Not sure if that day is today because my brain is leaking out from all the Excell sheets I need to fill in.

[Galagraphia]

*awesome snip*

 

Alright. Sorry if it's crap. I just banged this out in 30 minutes and I'm bleary eyed so have mercy. It wound up being longer than I intended.

I love it!

You guys just keep making my day better  

I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks Cullen's underwear is as red as Andraste's blood 

And my Inquisitor doesn't wear any undies too.

[Boomshakalakalakaboom]

You're welcome! I laughed so hard I snorted up orange juice. 'Twas excellent (your fic, not the snorting up orange juice part  )

Lol no your welcome for the orange juice snorting!