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bakerstreet2018-12-06 08:45 am
gameofsocks) wrote in bakerstreet2018-12-06 08:45 am
Entry tags:
nonsexual intimacy;
Intimacy is NOT necessarily about full sexual contact. Intimacy is all about two people forming a connection and bond between them. That involves becoming best friends, trusting each other, knowing each other, understanding each other. Intimacy is grown and developed, it can't be rushed.
Nonsexual forms of intimacy can add a great deal of depth and variety to fiction. On one end of the spectrum, they provide extra steps to support the journey from meeting a potential mate through romance, sex, and marriage. In the middle, they convey the import of family and professional connections, distinguishing those from more casual acquaintances. On the other end, they form much of the glue in primary relationships for people who don't base their ties on sexuality. Sex is valuable, but it's not everything.
RULES
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PROMPTS
- Hair care. Brushing, braiding, washing, cutting -- all of these involve a lot of careful touching in ways that many people enjoy. Hair braiding is a bonding experience in some cultures. In fact, grooming is a bonding technique for social primates in general. People without close ties to others often treat themselves to regular salon visits as a socially acceptable way to meet the need for touch and interaction.
- Shaving. This involves an unusually high level of trust, especially if the person is using a straight-edge razor or something else with an exposed blade rather than just a buzzer. Although it can apply to women, shaving is one of the few forms of physical intimacy that is most closely associated with men due to their facial hair. Initiaton into shaving is a major milestone for becoming a man, not just for boys during puberty but also for transsexuals during transition.
- Bathing. This varies by culture; in America most people bathe alone but some other cultures practice communal bathing. A bath is usually more intimate than a shower, although a public bath can be non-intimate and small shower stall can be intimate. It's also different when two people wash each other (an exchange of intimacy and affection) than when one person washes someone else (more of a caretaking or protective gesture).
- Feeding. A classic romantic motif involves lovers feeding each other, but it works as a way of providing and caring for someone in any context. Like bathing, it can also clue whether both parties are participating equally or one is taking care of the other (temporarily or regularly). This one has an existential flavor since survival depends on food supply.
- Seeing someone without their adaptive equipment on. This includes glasses, dentalware, prosthetic limbs, a wheelchair, etc. Adaptive equipment is part of one's presentation to the everyday world, and taking it off can be as intimate as removing clothing, for many people in many contexts.
- Holding Hands. There can be many reasons for this gesture. Physical closeness, offering comfort, or staying together in a crowd, all may have you reaching for someone.
- Undressing someone. This can be kind of a one-way experience if the recipient isn't awake, and is often awkward for both people if they are awake. Sometimes it happens because hands are out of commission, but a more common example is someone passing out drunk. Overheating is another good reason. Different circumstances can imply different levels of intimacy.
- Sharing secrets. This especially applies to talking about personal issues that aren't widely known. An exchange of secrets is a common ritual between "best friends" among girls and women, but appears elsewhere as well. Some things are only discussed among people with a common reference; veterans may be more comfortable discussing war memories with each other than civilians.
- Ordering for someone in a restaurant. Acquiring food, without asking the other person what to get, shows a knowledge of their needs and desires. Providing food is also a gesture of support and sustenance.
- Providing moral support at a major event. Helping someone get through a funeral, a trial, or other intense but not crisis situation is usually performed by a very dear friend. This is a situation where lovers or family members may be too close to the matter to be much use.
- Crying on someone. When you cry, you tend to let your guard down. Most of the people close to you will see you cry at some point, so that can be a milestone in a relationship. Actually crying on someone, letting them hold you, is even more intimate.
- Serving in a primary role for someone during a wedding. This includes the best man or maid of honor at a wedding, or stand-in for absent parents, etc. as well as the traditional family roles. One aspect of intimacy is sharing each other's lives, including ceremonies and transitions.
- Comforting someone after a bad breakup. Moments of great vulnerability can bring people closer. While this role sometimes falls to family, breakup repair more often goes to a woman's female friends or a man's male friends.
- Listening to someone's heartbeat or breathing. Close body contact, enough to carry soft personal sounds, tends to be comforting as well as connecting, as it touches on positive childhood memories for most people. It is shared between parent and child, sometimes between siblings, and later between lovers. Tight nonsexual partners may also do this.
- Putting someone to bed. Interestingly, this activity can happen among people who are just getting to know each other -- most often if someone passes out drunk, but exhaustion can have a similar effect. It's a gesture of caring to put someone to bed rather than leave them where they drop. A milder version involves draping a blanket or coat over a person asleep on a couch or the like.
- Sleeping in the same bed. This is an act of shared vulnerability and intimacy. Lovers customarily do this; so do some siblings or friends, especially as children. People may also be driven to share a bed, sleeping bag, etc. for warmth or lack of other accommodations in challenging circumstances.
- Watching someone sleep. There is more vulnerability on the part of the sleeper, and more intimacy from the watcher, when only one person is asleep. Parents often watch their children sleep. Lovers sometimes do this with each other, which can be cute or creepy. It's also a guard position, useful for showing that one character seeks to protect another.
- Waking someone up from a nightmare. A subtler form of rescue than more physical actions, this is still a gesture of protection and caring. It often leads to comfort afterwards. A typical courtesy between parent and child, or lovers, this can also be an early threshold for characters thrust together unexpectedly if one of them has sturdy daytime walls and a lot of issues. It is common, but often unspoken, among war buddies or veterans, many of whom have nightmares.
- Sharing clothes, jewelry, other personal items. This is common between siblings or close female friends. Sometimes roommates do it too. Wearing someone else's shirt or bathrobe is typical in romantic relationships, so can suggest a similar level of intimacy even in the absence of sex.
- Cleaning someone else's living space. This shows care and knowledge on the part of the cleaner, and trust on the part of the recipient. You have to know what NOT to throw away or move. It's typical of family members and roommates. Coworkers may clean each other's desk, office space, etc.
- Living together. This is a big step, even if it's just for a little while. Housemates are in each other's pockets; it's hard to keep secrets. Family members and lovers often live together, but housemates who are family-of-choice form a category of their own. If you don't want a romantic partner, a permanent housemate is a good choice for someone to share your life with.
- Childbirth. Attending the blessed event entails providing a lot of moral support for hours under high stress. It can create a bond with the baby as well as with the mother. When planned, this opportunity is only offered to the closest family members or friends, barring professionals. But it can happen by surprise in very awkward circumstances, a popular motif in fiction.
- Saving someone's life. Quick action in a life-threatening situation demonstrates how much one person values another. This can create a strong sense of connection, and sometimes obligation. It often, though not always, entails personal risk for the rescuer. This is fairly typical for military buddies or police partners, etc.
- Risking your life for someone. Placing someone else ahead of your own life shows their importance to you unequivocally. This often, though not always, involves trying to save or protect another person. While it can create a sense of gratitude, it frequently causes anger as well -- someone who loves you will generally object to you endangering yourself, even to protect them. Military and police buddies protect each other regularly.
- Making emergency decisions for someone. This reveals both how well you know the person, and how much you care about them -- whether you know what they would want, and act on it even if it differs from your personal preference. Unlike some of the other options, in this one the initial action is often outweighed by the aftermath. Both characters have to deal with the results of the decisions, good or bad.
- Deathwatch. Dying can be as intimate as giving birth. Staying with someone while they pass is an act of love; so is providing moral support to someone sitting deathwatch for a family member or other person. Many soldiers and police have done this for someone.
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Why do you think it would help, exactly?
[ The standing watch, that is. ]
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[Still ostensibly breezy, though Dorian is pulling back a bit; hands Cullen a clean washcloth to smooth over his face rather than doing it for him.]
It was just a thought.
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After a moment, ]
You'd be quite cold up where I sleep.
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[And don't even think about telling him to wear sleeves.
Dorian holds out a hand for the cloth, surveying his handiwork.]
Much better, yes?
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[ Some of that uncertainty is traded for a twitch of a smile, but he hands over the cloth, reaching up to run his hand across his cheek. It's startling how visibly tension drains from his shoulders as he touches his bare skin, free of hair simply left to grow. ]
Much.
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By choice, or has roof-patching fallen to the wayside in Skyhold's repairs?
[It is gratifying, though, to see Cullen relax--and a touch distressing how handsome he looks. Which is less a result of the shave than the smile, really.]
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A bit of both.
[ It feels less like the sky is going to crush him when he can stare out into the stars himself, see the snowfall, to feel the hugeness of it, instead of feeling small, so small— ]
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Well, I'll have someone bring up an extra quilt or three. And perhaps some mulled wine. That should minimize complaints on my end.
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If you won't find yourself freezing to death, then—
[ A beat. ]
We can see if it makes any difference. [ Though he adds quickly, for the sake of courtesy: ]
And if you're sure it's not an imposition.
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I wouldn't have offered, if it was. Goodness knows I'll get more research done without Leliana's crows squawking at all hours. You'd think a library would be quiet, but alas.
Shall we meet in an hour, then? I should procure those blankets. And books. And wine.
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I'll see you in my office, then?
gently timeshifts us forward
It's when he tells a new recruit (shy, nervous, unlikely to ask stupid questions) to bring several piles of warm things to the Commander's office, furs or quilts or whatever is available, that he begins to wonder what he's doing. This isn't a conquest, Dorian tells himself, more than once (and with increasing irritation) as he ascends the steps to the ramparts. He is doing something kind for a man who is--not quite a friend. A colleague. Companion, of sorts.
Still, Dorian knows what this looks like. He knows because his mind has wandered in this direction more than once, idly drifting to the way Cullen loosens a touch when he lets his guard down. The shift of his shoulders, splay of his legs, that smirk.
So there's guilt to contend with, because anyone accusing him of having less than virtuous thoughts wouldn't be strictly wrong.
Naturally, it's frigid by the time Dorian raps his knuckles on Cullen's door. There are clouds overhead, high and grey, and Dorian has quickly learned that this particular bite in the air portends snow rather than rain. Preferable, perhaps, but not ideal. He may regret not warming the wine after all.]
Ah, good, the furs arrived ahead of me. [A modest pile by the door as he steps inside. Fennec fur, by the looks of it, which will do. Dorian sweeps them into his arms, giving the ladder an appraising glance.] Shall we?
bless u
He hates submitting himself to that.
But maybe... knowing he has a way out, something fast, guaranteed, will mean that he can coax himself into a little sleep.
(Maker knows he needs it. He's practically falling asleep on his feet some days, even as he soldiers on.)
Still befuddled and a little unsure, he lets himself into his tower, first climbing up to his loft. He abandons his mantel, his armor, leaving himself in a more simple tunic – something he can sleep in. Of course, changing doesn't take the full hour, so when Dorian arrives, Cullen is back down at his desk, sorting over papers.
(It's a rather different look for him: casual, dressed down, his well-styled hair just starting to fight back to its more curly, wild ways. But he finds he isn't bothered that Dorian would see him like this.)
He thanks the recruit who leaves the furs in his office (after he explains, stammering all the while, that they're for Lord Pavus, which makes perfect sense), and resumes flipping through missives until Dorian's letting himself in. ]
You realize it's customary to knock.
[ His lips quirk slightly, though it doesn't take away from the heavy circles under his eyes. He sets down his papers, moving around his desk to gesture to the furs in Dorian's arms. ]
I'll bring them up.
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He is infuriatingly handsome. Dorian is well-aware of his own charms and utilizes them as necessary, thank you very much, but he wonders if Cullen has even an inkling how many eyes he catches when he walks into a room. Also wonders how many people have seen him like this and the thought comes, unbidden and unkind, that the number of people is likely slim and the number of mages even slimmer.]
You Southerners and your knocking. [Dorian wonders, actually, whether Cullen ever knocked on the doors of the Circle mages, and doesn't quite like the illicit little squirm of heat at the thought of Cullen barging in on him.
He should recuse himself. Cullen would almost certainly ask him to leave if he knew the sort of things Dorian were thinking, but he hands over the furs, instead. The Inquisition has made him a better man, possibly, but he's still not so sure he's a good one.]
You may want to keep those for yourself, after I'm through with them. It looks likely to snow, which I'm thrilled about, as you can imagine.
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Unlike you, I don't shy away from a bit of snow. Some of us can tolerate the cold.
[ His teasing smirk looks more haggard than usual, but the effort is made, nonetheless.
He isn't lying, though. The only cold that really bothers him is the chill that settles bone-deep in his hands, almost impossible to banish on the worse days. Otherwise, he's usually content to watch the snow fall through his roof; there's something dreamy, soft, about the silent flakes drifting to the wood floor, and often, simply that will lull him to sleep.
With the furs securely under his arm, Cullen leads the way up to his small loft. As far as comfort, it would leave much to be desired for most, but for Cullen, all he wants is peace, quiet, and a place to rest his head.
(On the better days.)
A small chair sits off to the side, otherwise ignored, though Cullen goes to drop the furs on its seat.
After Dorian's joined him, he glances back with a somewhat sheepish look. ]
I'm afraid I haven't much hospitality to offer, other than this.
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[Dorian chatters his way up the ladder, not entirely sure what to expect when they level off. Skyhold is a perpetual work in progress; some parts of the fortress are comfortable--beautiful, even, though he's unlikely to admit it--while others are literally crumbling into the valley below. Dorian's shocked they haven't yet lost anyone to ill-placed footing.
The loft is neither stunning nor in horrible disrepair. Acceptable is probably the word for it. Despite the fact that Cullen was just in his quarters, Dorian can't help but feel slightly as if he is intruding upon something private.]
Well. I suppose you must get good light. [The hole in the ceiling is certainly a hole. That's as much fuss as Dorian makes over it, though; he settles himself into the chair, looking perfectly at home despite any thoughts to the contrary as he flicks his book open, then glances up at Cullen again.]
Just pretend I'm not here. Unless the thought of my presence helps you fall asleep, in which case, feel free to think of me all you like.
sorry for the delay!! finals ate me alive
She still usually mentions it whenever she wanders into his office.
But Dorian lets it be, which is something of a relief, and now, Cullen finds himself standing in the middle of his room, Dorian in a chair, his bed waiting for him a few feet away—
And it still feels strange.
It's not like Cullen has never shared space with someone, or slept while others stayed awake. Startling, he realizes that it's not even because Dorian's a mage, but—
It's just Dorian. And this is intimate and unprecedented, and Dorian is one of few who's seen him so— vulnerable? Unofficial? Cullen's armor is a part of the powerful persona he wears as Commander, and maintaining authority means presenting himself a certain way; not like this. But he's not put-out or worried about it, and maybe that's the strangest piece of the whole thing: he feels at ease with Dorian in that chair, with his books and his furs.
Cullen really doesn't know what to think of that, and he's much too tired to even try tonight.
He rubs at the back of his neck for a moment, hesitating where he stands near Dorian's seat, before he simply nods as he leads himself to his bed. He crawls under the covers, sitting up with the thick woolen blanket around his hips as he looks over to Dorian again. ]
I might—
[ He stops, lips pressed in a thin line. How to phrase this?
(How to not sound completely insane?) ]
If I... I mean— [ A little frustrated sound. ] Be careful waking me. Please. Sometimes I come out suddenly, and I can... lash out.
no worries!! tis the season
These furs were likely taken from those very foxes. Adept in both empathy and practicality, their Inquisitor.
He looks up from his book at Cullen's words, though his eyes had been doing little more than scanning the page, certainly not absorbing anything while the Commander was settling into bed.
It's troubling, the thought of Cullen lashing out, though not entirely for the reasons Cullen might think. Dorian can certainly defend himself--a former Templar is a formidable opponent, even for a Tevinter Altus, but without his armor and sword, groggy with sleep? Dorian would set the man's bed alight before Cullen could get a hand around his throat.
And that is the trouble, those dark licks of flame that stir in his belly at the thought of violence. A disgusting proclivity, to be sure; Mother Giselle would be dragging him by his ear into the garden chapel and locking him in with Andraste until all sinful urges had been purged from his bones if she knew. Another fine reason for his father to wipe his mind with blood magic.
His fingers itch for the bottle of wine, though he hadn't really intended on drinking it while Cullen was sleeping. He does intend to be alert, to have his wits about him, but ah, it would feel better to drink all these thoughts away. The number of times he's been in his cups at the Herald's Rest and told the Iron Bull he might, perhaps take him up on his offers--and the Bull just gives him a look, tells Dorian to come to his room when he thinks he's capable of standing at attention for a few hours instead of stumbling into his bed and snoring the night away.
Dorian wonders if Cullen might benefit from one of Bull's sessions, and then wonders how many bottles of wine it will take to kill that seed of thought before it completely consumes him.]
I'll try not to singe your sheets, if it comes to that. [Lowers his gaze and flicks to the next page in his book, even though he hadn't read the last one at all. (Maker, was The Sermons of Justinia II the best choice of reading material? He truly is distracted today.)]
I can handle myself, Commander, if that's your concern. You wouldn't be the first Templar to try to throttle me since I arrived in the South.
[That takes things a bit further than he should have, probably; his tone as light and airy as ever, though Dorian knows he often cuts without meaning to.]
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Cullen's grimace is all the more obvious with how tired he is, and he reaches up, pinching the bridge of his nose. ]
... Former.
[ Former Templar. Not that it really makes any difference, not in this moment, and for many other purposes. He still thinks like a Templar often, even as he's tried to expand his understanding of others, of the world outside the edicts of the Chantry. He's already moving beyond his blind fear of mages, as cautious as he still is around them, but here Dorian sits, in his room, while Cullen is left without armor or much else. His sword leans against his nightstand, but what's a sword in the hands of a bleary-eyed man when, as Dorian so casually reminds him, he could simply be set aflame before his hand could so much as find the grip?
Nothing. A sword is nothing.
His hand falls away from his face, fingers curling tightly in the soft wool in his lap. ]
Perhaps this was a bad idea.
[ Because he doesn't want to put Dorian in that position, not someone he's coming to consider a friend, and Maker knows how long it's been since he's really had friends. He still marvels at it, really, how easily camaraderie has come between those closest to the Inquisitor. Surely, he shares no fondness for Solas, and his interactions with Sera are a new level of frustration (she really needs to stay out of his office), but he's found a comrade in Cassandra, and a strange sweetness from Josephine, and more hours wiled away with Varric over ale and extravagant stories than he could rightly count. Cullen is gruff, hard to get to know, but the Inquisitor has pried him open with an almost laughable ease. She's doubtlessly earned it, and Dorian is... starting to. Cullen finds himself looking forward to games of chess, even when it means setting aside his work. Not only is Dorian a worthy opponent, Cullen delights in trading playful insults and teasing banter – some of the sass that comes flashing out like sparks.
But this is unfamiliar territory, this is a different setting, and there are risks that Cullen didn't originally stop to consider. Dorian can handle himself, and Cullen doesn't doubt that; he just... what? Is he embarrassed by Dorian playing witness to one of his more extreme night terrors, if he were so unlucky? Is he worried about rumors flying frantically through Skyhold were it to get out that Dorian was in Cullen's room, and maybe that, yes, Cullen's bed went up in smoke while he was there?
No, he's not worried about that. Rumors don't faze him, and maybe it's not embarrassment, per se, but—
He cares what Dorian thinks of him, as absurd as it feels to realize it. He cares about whatever impact such an incident might have on their interactions, if those games of chess would disappear, if it would be back to the same cold looks he received while they snarled at each other in Haven as Corypheus bore down on them.
He doesn't want any of that. ]
turns out googling "cullen's room" for reference leads to lots of vampire content
Perhaps.
[Dorian's brow pinches slightly, lips pursed as he lets his book fall shut. He needs--well, he doesn't need air, there's plenty of that coming in from the bloody hole in the roof, but he does need to not be seated for this conversation. Dorian gets to his feet, letting the furs slither to the floor as he paces over to the windows, looks out them for a moment without really seeing.]
Do you trust me?
[Glancing back over his shoulder, fingers curled against the windowsill. Dorian doesn't wait for an answer, waving a hand as he turns to face Cullen properly again, leaning his hip against the wall and folding his arms across his chest.]
You have plenty of reason not to. Don't say yes just to be polite--you're certainly not in polite company.
tmw there’s more references for Edward Cullen’s room and not Cullen Rutherford
His impulse isn’t a polite reassurance, because the truth leaves Cullen stunned, his lips parted on the realization that, yes, Dorian is here because Cullen trusts him.
He shakes himself, licks his lips, and after another breath of hesitation, ]
Yes. I trust you.
no subject
Lavellan trusts him, beacon of goodness that she is. That had been enough of a shock to his system, the kindling of their friendship, and Cullen's trust leaves him off-balance in a way that doesn't feel quite as wholesome.
Does he deserve his trust? Probably not. Does he desire it? Yes.
Dorian realizes he's been holding his breath, exhales through his nose and releases the tension in his shoulders, adjusting his stance.]
Well. I promise not to start a fire if you promise not to smite me. [He tips his head in the direction of the armchair.] And if neither of us maims the other, we can share the bottle of wine I brought with me after your nap.
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(What to do with that? What to make of it? Again, it's an unguarded show of himself, and not something cloaked in armor and hard stares, perfect posture, immovable obstinance. Cullen is a man given to honesty, but that doesn't mean honesty is easy.)
But as Dorian relaxes, so does Cullen, and his fingers start to loosen on his blanket. Faint, barely there, but a soft smile curls at the corner of his mouth. ]
I can promise that.
[ And a little more teasing, ]
That means I expect you to leave enough wine by the time I wake.
no subject
I can make promises about fire, but I make none about wine.
[He saunters back to the armchair, sliding one hand across the back and waving the other lazily at Cullen.]
Sleep, Commander. If anyone tries to interrupt I'll shoo them away.
*spongebob narrator voice* a few hours later
I would appreciate it if you did that without fire, as well.
[ But Cullen's easing himself down, pulling the covers up around his shoulders. He turns onto his side, facing Dorian and the armchair, and he sighs the words more than speaks them: ]
Good night, Dorian.
[ It could be worse.
When the Fade beckons him down into dreams, he's too tired to sleep lightly. He's sucked deep into the chilling and familiar embrace of memories, over ten years removed but still so fresh.
A cage of light, the smell of blood, the decay of bodies— anguish, and screams, and offers to make it stop—
O Maker, hear my cry—
—give you what you want, who you want—
—guide me through the blackest nights—
—and it will stop, we'll make it stop—
—steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked—
—end up like them? is that what you want? or do you want the pain to end—
—make me to rest in the warmest places—
It all blurs together, as it so often does, into streams of pain and fear and orders to leave him in peace that sound more like pleas, but it's not awful enough, not yet, to shake him out of the nightmare.
In his bed, as moonlight streams softly through the rafters, Cullen rolls from one side to the other, his hands drawing his blanket tight as he curls in on himself. The sounds he makes are soft, but his breathing is becoming steadily harsher, a fine sweat breaking out on his brow. ]
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