#amatuer dancer

[barrewithme]

🕊🩰✨💚

#balletcore #ballet #ballet aesthetic #ballet core #coquette #ballerina #ballerina aesthetic #ballet photography #girlblogging #ballet folklorico #ballet costumes #ballet dancer #amateur ballerina #amatuer dancer #plus size feminity #plus size ballerina #plus size dancer #ballet class #black ballet #black femininity #black women in ballet #black dancers #black women in femininity #black women in leisure #black women in dance #soft black women #black woman femininity #afro ballet #ballet blog #ballet inspo

[highvern]

Ateez in Different NSFW Careers

Pairing: ot8

Genre: smut, 21+

Warnings: lots of sex, masturbating, porn, domination/submission, fetishes, lmk if i missed anything egregious

Note: this is an idea for a miniseries but idk and thought id put it out there to see if people are interested (dont bring up the ateez mixtape series, im working on it!) thank you @wingsofimagery @yessa-vie for listening to this brain rot

read more here

Hongjoong:

onlyfans creator, solos of him masturbating or nudes. weirdly artistic? like camera angles on point, edited to perfection, color graded. rarely, if ever, collabs with others. occasionally posts erotic photography of one unidentifiable woman. his subscribers aren't sure what to make of it but pictures of them together are some of his best work. daylights as a photographer and has some of his work in small galleries across the city.

Seunghwa:

amatuer porn star, makes homemade couple porn or something with a close female friend. domestic/bf vibes in every video. v soft with each other even when they're having rough sex. people assume they're actually dating bc of the insane chemistry even though they never show their faces. its his fun dirty little secret no one in the office knows.

Yunho:

boyfriend for hire. specializes in "turn your brain off for the night, i'll handle it." rent him to be your date to an event or just for a night on the town. doesn't always sleep with his client (his discretion) but usually cuddles and will spend the night. just trying to pay off his student loans since being an analyst pays shit. big yunho bc he has a big... u kno? and loves hearing the women he sleeps with rave about it. has had several repeat customers and older women that recommend him to their friends.

Yeosang:

audio erotica. just aside hobby for him. tbh 9/10 times forgets to record or that he even has the account. started bc a girl he was seeing freshman year of college told him she wanted a video with the sound on and he didn't know what that meant but she liked his voice enough to let the completely black screen slide. posts sporadically but always makes waves when he does. people have offered him money for custom audios and he always turns them down.

San:

fetish model. shibari, leather, latex. you name it, he's most likely modeled it. has portrait of himself (unrecongnizable, facing away just his back criss crossed with ropes, hands bound at the base of his spine) hanging in his apartment. his friends think its weird since they know he's the one in the picture but most of the girls he brings home just think he's into some freaky stuff. started bc he would nude model for the art classes at his college when he needed fast money for weed. people assume he likes really kinky sex bc of his job but he prefers vanilla sex most of the time bc his job is so kink heavy. works as a fitness instructor as his 9-5, and had a few people recognize him but most are cool and leave him alone

Mingi:

nsfw twitter creator. videos, pictures, sliding into dms. mingi does it all and enjoys the comments of people thirsting over him even if he's one dick among thousands. for his day job he works in a sex store and flirts with the exotic dancers who come in to buy their costumes (turned down every single time, there's even a pool for how quickly he'll strike out). the one girl that flirted back still lives in his brain rent free bc all she did was smile and he folded like origami. now when she comes in mingi has to remind himself not to drool.

Wooyoung:

cam boy brat, sugars on the side. likes being degraded by his audience when he's bad. lover of milfs, and has a sugar mommy he sees once a month. loves being wined and dined by her and then loved on at her fancy apartment uptown. started doing both in college to pay rent, now works at a dance studio and keeps it up bc the extra cash is nice. enamored with taking pictures during sex. has a collection of polaroids with his current FWB that he cherishes more than anything (always carries one in his phone case). toyed with the idea of having her come on his streams but he doesn't want to share. he should probably look into that more.

Jongho:

dungeon dom (IDK), the kind thats a look don't touch dom. if you need a session to work through your stress, go to him. sexy spanking, punishment spanking, therapy spanking. he's got the knowledge and know how. has a strange collection of vintage dvds and magazines. rare stuff that he treats like art rather than smut. jongho i never want to speak on your name im sorry

-

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

#ksmutsociety #kvanity #cromernet #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #atz fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez angst #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #🫡 highvern

[leoneliterary]

Obviously this is something that entirely depends on your own level of comfort and story planning but when it comes to the dancer class it’s mentioned that some of the other dancers are brothel workers. Would the player be able to pursue a path similar to this, at least working as a seductress (and I say that gender neutrally cause idk what else to call it LMAO) styled assassin working to get their targets at their most vulnerable for a kill.

Or, take this now as an ask in regards to lore, would papa bear simply just not allow the player the pursue this.

This is a bit of a spoiler, but I think it's good to clear up expectations surrounding this!

Later in the story, you can definitely lure a some characters to their doom, either by doing the seducing yourself or employing some of the other performers to do so. An important part of this story is that your character isn't alone and that your actions impact others, so keep that in mind when you make choices like this.

Regarding lore and background, Amatus and Hadassah have not allowed your character with the dancer background to do this before. Amatus didn't feel comfortable putting you out there like that at a young age to get close to his enemies, although he was called out by some in the guild for still using you as a thief. (Amatus and his moral dilemmas.) And even if he had, Hadassah wouldn't have allowed it. She refuses to run an operation like Mara, but the performers under her roof can do as they please ass long as they follow certain rules.

And that's all I can say on that without spoiling so events that are going to happen soon...

#interactive fiction #honor amongst thieves #if wip #game development #interactive novel #worldbuilding #hat if #Amatus #hadassah #mc customization #silken sands

[creatorbiaze]

Translations / meanings behind OC names

except a concerning amount translate wrong and you guys don't know half of them

Latin-based

Videns Luminae Mortem translates to Seeing the Lights of Death

Clara Ventus translates to A Clear Favorite

Genesis means Creation

Nox means Night

Saltator De Salices means Dancer of the Willows (Saltator is also a genus of bird)

Verum Deorum means Truth of the Gods

Mendacium Deorum means Lies of the Gods

Tenebris Deorum (Star Seer's real name) means Shadow of the Gods

Sidera Noctis translates to Stars of the Night, while Finem Omnia Saecula (Sidera's real name) means End of All Eternity (or end of all ages)

Dominus Flammis means Lord of Flames

Mutari Mundi means to Change the World

Amatus Maren means Beloved Star of the Sea (Maren also can mean Sea, beloved, or rebellious)

Aella means Tempest or Whirlwind

Venenum Herba means Poison Plant

Timere Audax Cordelia means Fearless and Bold Daughter of the Sea. Timere also means fearful as well, weirdly enough.

Insomnium and Metus (Genesis's cobras) translate to Nightmare and Fear respectively.

Elovuxen-based

Zenza translates to Final Guide

Zelura translates to God of Chaos

Merivu translates to Death

The Vezexe last name means 'of the Last Ruler'

Inxau translates to Insane God

Vizerivu means Bringer of Death

Caul means Secret of the Frost

Xalcurau means Dangerous Chaos God

Ceciru Quelxeru means Dawn of Wishes And Golden Light

Ceriveri Viclerulz means Powerful Sun and Healer of Harmony 

Evex Quili means Of Great Value

Xerqik (the Phoenix) means Silver Moon

Both

Vizerxa Mortem translates to Bringer of Death

Ezeri Mortem-Vezerae means To Light the Death of the Lost

Xicuri means Hope

Ceriex Vurxe Saecula means Great and Powerful Ruler of Eternity (or of ages)

Klerkure Saecula means Friend of Knowledge for Eternity

Greek-based

Pandora means either All-giving or All-gifted

Chrysós Keres means Golden Death Spirits

Timorós means Punisher/Vengeful

Phúlax means Guardian/protector

Phobos means fear

Lysander Acacius [ironically] means Liberator of Peace (technically 'liberator of not evil '.)

Argyros Thanata means Silver Death

Other

Cearo means sorrow

Celeste Chrone means Heavenly Time

this isnt all my characters btw

#ocs #oc things

[fiontan-ffxiv]

Picture for @ffxivakyi of Akyhi and Faysal! Our dark magic murder kittens.

#ffxiv art #final fantasy xiv art #miqo'te #black mage #dancer #my art #faysal amatu #akyhi thyme

[ceol-aen]

I really love dancer and I—I want to figure out an ic way for Nandin to cast magic AND shimmy on the battlefield hahdjsgafaf

#ooc #SHE LOVES DANCING ICLY and is a skilled amatuer dancer #but....i wanna combine....TWO....CLASSES TOGETHER #she does the cha cha slide and casts fire 3

[mrscullensrutherford]

Do you have any Mass Effect or Dragon Age fics you can recommend?

OH!! Absolutely!!! I should warn, I ship Shega for the most part in Mass Effect and Varric and Hawke from DA so some of my recommendations are going to reflect that.

First off, I recommend ANYTHING written by @pikapeppa (queenofkadara on Ao3). There is so much to choose from with her DA stuff and there is some Andromeda but she is a superb writer and I can spend days just reading her fic. (And I have, you can ask her, LOL)

Amatus Vhenan - Kate_Shepard - This is an AU where Lavellan is captured and sold as a slave in Minrathous. And who becomes his master? Dorian Pavus, of course. @cdrkateshepard

Flowers and Thorns - @smolbiotic - I just started reading this and I already love it. The main character is a human who wants to study xenosurgery and xenoscience. She pays her way through college by being an exotic dancer. 

A Cup of Tea Between Friends - Kbug81 - This is an adorable story about Solas’ struggle with having feelings (non-romantic) for the Inquisitor. 

Soldier’s Heart - @dafan7711 - SHAMELESS SHEGA PLUG! But really, their action scenes are GREAT! This follows Shepard’s confinement and goes into regular gameplay scenarios but with the added bonus of some truly entertaining moments. 

The Words I’m Leaving Out - Solshine - Varric/Hawke and mutual pining, need I say more?!? Okay, how about a fake relationship and bed-sharing?

Emergence - Ias, Nemonus - A wonderfully, horrifying story of Saren’s indoctrination. @eri-223

And I am sorry it took so long to answer, I had to dig deep for some of these because I have spent the last two years drenching myself in HZD fic. 

[schattengerissen]

WIP Wednesday

With thanks to @whenmysoulsings​ for the tag!

From my WIP Unbekannt (working title only), the next book in my series The Contours of Shadows ---------------------------------------- Dorian gave [the gossip columnist] an urbane smile. “What better reason to hold a fabulous party?”

“Speaking of that, you are going to Astolfo Belisarius’s soiree, aren’t you? He’s going to be introducing his newest discovery, who’s also the star of his next production. Little slip of a thing but sings like a nightingale. Apparently he found her in some Antivan-themed restaurant here in Minrathous. They’d hired her as a dancer, but she turned out to be a much better singer.”

Dorian and I shared a wondering look. We’d been to an Antivan restaurant the year before with a stage act consisting of three musicians and a dancer with more enthusiasm than talent. I’d felt rather bad for her, so it was nice to think she may have succeeded.

Thalia was still talking. “Of course, that means Astolfo will have to get her dance lessons, unless they just prop her in a corner between songs.”

“They could find a girl about her size and cast an illusion on her,” Dorian offered.

“If she turns out to be hopeless they may have to. It wouldn’t be the first time.” Thalia gave a smile only someone with insider knowledge could duplicate.

“Anyone we know?” Dorian asked, eyes bright with interest.

“Darling, that would be telling. Let’s just say some of the stars in our firmament were raised up by those who value romantic or political connections over talent, leaving the real theatre people to compensate however they can. You didn’t answer my question.”

I’d honestly forgotten what question that was, but Dorian was made of sterner stuff. “Thalia, we’d be delighted, but the sad fact is we never received an invitation. Perhaps Astolfo only wanted theatre people?” He winked. “As opposed to theatrical.”

She made a tiny frown, jotted a note. “Of course. How silly of me. You’d think Astolfo would consider it a coup, having one of Minrathous’s most striking power couples attending his little get-together.”

“Now Thalia, what are you after, charming us like that?” Dorian gave her a winning smile.

“Perhaps I just enjoy charming handsome young men,” she teased. “But I do want to steal your amatus for half an hour tomorrow.”

“Just return him in the same condition.”

Thalia gave me an amused look. “I’d say I won’t harm a hair on his head, but…” ------------------------------ Tagging @dafan7711​, @tessa1972​, and anyone who’d like to share.

#WIP Wednesday #wip meme #dragon age #fan fiction by schattenriss #writing #fanfiction series #long reads #dorian pavus #dorian x trevelyan #pavelyan #tevinter #dai #post-trespasser #weekend reads

[leoneliterary]

As amusing as it is to think about all the possible ways things could go between Amatus and Sutek if we end up romancing the jackal, I admit that I'm more interested in seeing Amatus and the others react to my Mc (a thieve, brothel dancer and possibly an assassin) romancing a holy man, because if you think about it, mc ending up with someone like Sutek is not that weird as he is also a criminal living in the lower cusmo

But Heka??? A lovely, kind, sweet guy with no ties to the life of crime that mc lives, and a MONK

I bet those reactions are going to be gold 🤌

You are so right!

Imagine the MC bringing Heka along to hang out with the Talons and everyone is just trying their best to not seem like a criminal.

Gerger coming to report something to you: "Hey I nabbed some great stuff from that house—oh the Seer! Brother Heka—yeah stuff that the owner of the house gave to me. Yep, gave it to me after we finished praying together like we do here, everyday, all the time—oh look at that I need to feed orphans and pay my taxes. You know they stay starving. Bless us everyone."

#funny ask #Heka #Talons #honor amongst thieves #if wip #hat if #interactive games #interactive fiction

[its-magic-bro]

4 Marevin?

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” 

//good choice :3 im adding in a lil mutual pining human friends-to-lovers speedrun to this, youre welcome. (im aware there wouldnt be that many people at Phantom and Henrik’s wedding probably but lET ME HAVE THIS)

---

Marvin sits in a chair against the wall, watching the brave souls who had dared the dance floor, after the grooms had finished their own solo dance, of course. The wedding had been lovely, and had surprisingly gone without a hitch. Phantom and Henrik were now at their table, speaking too softly for anyone but them to hear and looking generally in love. Marvin chuckles to himself.

“Crazy, isn’t it?” Marvin jumps at the voice coming from his right, looking up to see Mare smiling at the couple as well. He clears his throat.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, never thought I’d see...all of this.”

Mare nods, looking down at him now. He and Marvin had come together, sure, but it was technically their second real date, and there were more important things to focus on, and they’d spent the whole ceremony on opposite sides of the altar, so really, they hadn’t had much chance to talk.

Marvin pats the chair beside him, and Mare takes the hint, taking a seat. Something cold touches Marvin’s hand, and he looks down to see Mare offering him a champagne glass, which he takes with a grateful smile.

“Never thought I’d see Phantom gettin’ married,” Mare drawls as Marvin takes a drink. “He’s had his fair share of partners, but I never thought I’d see one stick. ‘Specially not for a whole marriage.”

Marvin chuckles, looking into his glass. “Never thought I’d see Hen get married either. I was there, y’know, when his kids died, when he got divorced... And since then, I kinda figured he’d stay stuck. Pushin’ away every chance at movin’ on.” He sighs, smiling ruefully. “I’m real glad to see that I was wrong.”

Mare hums, and the two of them sit in silence, watching the dancers. When Blue and Ruby go by, a laughing Ruby is standing on Blue’s feet while they do a dramatic imitation of a waltz to music that doesn’t even remotely fit the dance, and both men break out laughing. They catch each-other’s eyes, smiling, and Marvin huffs and stands. He sets his glass down on a table and holds his hand out to Mare.

“Wanna dance?”

Mare stares at Marvin, then the hand extended to him, before grinning and taking it. Marvin pulls him up, and they make their way to the gathering of dancers.

Before they know it, an hour has passed, and the only people left are couples, slow dancing and leaning against each other. Mare and Marvin are not excluded from this category. Marvin rests his chin on Mare’s shoulder, hands on his chest, and Mare’s hands rest on his waist as they slowly rock side to side, spinning in slow circles.

Mare mumbles something, and Marvin pulls back to look up at him, noting the blush and how cute Mare looks when he’s shy.

“Sorry, what?”

Mare clears his throat, his drawl slipping away. “I-I said, um, I think I’m in love with you, and... I’m terrified. Of, y’know. You not feeling the same.”

Marvin blinks, then grins, then drops his forehead on Mare’s shoulder as he laughs.

“Oh, my gods, you’re so stupid!”

Mare tenses, and Marvin feels him pulling away. He looks back up with tears in his eyes from laughing, but also from the rising warmth in his chest, feeling a twinge of guilt when he sees the disappointment on Mare’s face.

“Nonono, wait! I don’t mean-” He huffs, grabbing Mare’s hands and lifting them to his chest, above his heart. He smiles up at his boyfriend. “You aren’t stupid for loving me, that isn’t what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” Mare’s voice is defensive, but Marvin hears how it wavers, and his heart melts.

“I mean,” He leans forward to kiss Mare’s cheek, just brushing the corner of his lips. “I love you too. And I was gonna tell you tonight, but you ruined that for me. But I can’t be too mad. You’re too cute for me to tunr down anyways.”

Mare snorts and blushes, pulling Marvin close and pulling his hands free to wrap his arms around the witch.

“Whatever ya say, amatus.”

“I ‘m glad you agree, carissime.”

[jawsandbones]

“never knew i was a dancer.” pls and ty bb

Modern AU.

It isn’t much. It isn’t much, but it’s theirs. There’s a mattress on the floor. Most of the furniture will arrive tomorrow. They’ve been painting most of today. Emptied boxes of take-out, and they ate it with their hands. Their phones are charging in the corner. All that’s left is that old radio the previous tenants left behind. Static, and music that fades in and out. He’s pulled him to his feet when the music was bright, loud and happy. Slower now, and Mahanon wraps an arm around Dorian’s waist.

Pulling him in close, taking his free hand in his. Dorian has his arm around him as well, their faces close together. “I never knew I was a dancer,” Mahanon says, “but it turns out I’m excellent at it.”

“Are you now?” Dorian asks, chuckling under his breath as he’s given a dazzling smile.

“Well I haven’t stepped on your feet yet, have I?” They move in a slow circle, shuffle closely together. The music seems so far away. Slow jazz, and the slow press of Mahanon’s lips against his. The patio door open, and a breeze slips inside, bringing with it cool night air. A shiver, and Mahanon is kissing him again. And again. And again. “We live together,” he murmurs, as if he himself can’t believe it.

“Does it count if there’s no furniture yet?”

“Of course it still counts.” Such indignation in his voice and Dorian laughs. The voice on the radio is crooning in a language they both don’t know. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” Mahanon practically groans, “long distance was awful and we’re never doing that again.”

“On that, we can agree,” he says. “Although, now that we’re living together, you’ll get sick of me faster.”

“Don’t say that.” His hands move to cup his face. “I could never be sick of you. I love you.” He proclaims it so boldly here, and everywhere else. He had shouted it across the campus common area months before, laughed in delight at the way Dorian had stiffened up. He was getting used to it, still. Showing it. Now, he thinks he could shout it back. Mahanon’s thumbs brush against his cheekbones, hold his face steady, and this kiss is far more forceful. Dorian reaches up, wraps a hand around his wrist.

“I love you as well,” he says, “amatus.” Another dazzling smile, and a different song begins to play. Mahanon’s reaching for his waist again. They spend most of the night like that, quietly talking to each other, dancing without thought. Music slips out the open door, spills into the street.

#dorian #lavellan #pavellan #dragon age #dorivellan #dorian x lavellan #dorian x m!lavellan #dorian x inquisitior #dorian x m!inquisitor #m!inquisitor #m!lavellan #dragon age inquisition #dai #writing #mine #reassembleme

[blissfulalchemist]

Evens for Conner! 🤍

Thank you Kate! Here’s all the information you want about him! 

OC Fluff Questions

2. Can they dance?

Conner is pretty decent of a dancer actually. He’s no professional or even amatuer, but enough to pick up someone on the fly if he wished....okay he’s his best dancing self when its jazz and swing style of music. Don’t ask for any modern dance as he’ll butcher it, most likely on purpose so you won’t ask, but he’ll take it to the extreme. Conner we all see you and we all know you can floss and shuffle!

4. Crayons, markers, colored pencils or paint?

He doesn’t really do art, but he used to make pictures out of flower petals and grass and leaves when he was little. If he was to take on something it would be a mix medium of colored pencils and watercolor/inks. 

6. What’s their sleeping position?

Conner is a cuddler so he likes to sleep on his side and will not care if he’s the big spoon or little spoon. He just wants to cuddle. RIP to those he’s not with in that manner and you have to share a bed with him, its going to happen. When alone though he’s on his stomach with a hand reaching out as if he had someone next to him. 

8. What do they act like when drunk?

Ohhhhhh man. Oh man. Conner is....a handful. He’s no drunk Cat but he is his own breed of drunk. As he gets more and more drunk everyone in the damn universe is his friend all of a sudden, he wants to hold hands oh please let him hold your hand, he’s telling jokes are they funny? well you be the judge on that, he wants all eyes on him, and most importantly you’re not gonna understand a damn word he says unless you speak Romanian. If you do be warned there is slurring involved too so have fun. He’s also tall and those limbs will not always know what to do at a certain intoxication level. You get 1000% honest Conner when he’s about 10 drinks in give or take on the type of alcohol he’s ingested, but again hopefully you can understand him by then.

10. Can they play an instrument? If so, which one(s)?

He has a small knowledge of the piano, but really only a few songs and they aren’t that good and really its mostly specific parts of the song. He almost learned how to play the sax in high school but he got scared and decided to not join band. 

12. What is their guilty pleasure?

His biggest one true crime podcasts. There really is no need seeing as they are fairly popular but he feels it doesn’t fit the front he has made for himself. They are reserved solely for solo car rides and the occasional flight when he doesn’t have to sit next to someone else.

14. Beachhouse, cozy snowy cabin, treehouse in a forest or desert paradise?

Beaches are meant to only be visited. Cabins are fine really if there’s enough space and a good amount of warmer months. Treehouses are for children and if the ground was dangerous, but forests are nice. He’s not 100% for the heat of the desert but well it does offer the ideal for a nice green house to maintain year round, but if he could have like a middle ground of the desert and the forest that’s his golden ticket.

16. What do they smell like?

Anise and campfire smoke. He works a lot with dried plants and ingredients and given his teachings he likes to use real fire with wood, even if its in a small space he just makes a little one and uses it. 

18. If they were drunk, what would they get a tattoo of?

He’d get a sword along his spine with the hilt of it being a bit intricate so he could incorporate names into it. He’d also like to try and make some charmed ink so they can glow too when he’s doing magic because its no fair that he can’t match Tia. Or his next option would be to get a bird with its wings spread out, he’s not sure where it should go but its gonna go somewhere.

20. Hoodies, knit sweaters, wool coats or just a blanket to stay warm?

Knit sweaters and wool coats. He has a very preppy style and so some of these items are already in his closet. Conner is very well prepped for the colder weather unlike his compatriot that is only prepared for the hot weather.

22. If they had a custom car horn, what would it be?

He wouldn’t. They’re loud and very annoying and car horns have their own purpose and it shouldn’t be tampered with. The most tampering he would do to the horn is the volume of it and tone just so it isn’t as harsh as they can be if needed.

23. Favorite carnival attraction?

He doesn’t really like to go to carnivals all that much. He does get dragged to them and if he must pick it would have to be the ferris wheel or the merry-go-round. He does take some joy in seeing the cheesy magic shows if they are present. 

24. Showers or baths?

He defaults to showers as they’re more efficient and he doesn’t always feel like he has a ton of time but a bath can be preferred when he wants to just relax to the max. Its more rare though.

#conner enache oc #conner chara ask

[tevinter-songbird]

Cillian

For all his complacency and smiling obedience, there's a fire in the mistress's songbird, a spirit that may have had its wings tied but, oh, could fly so high and amaze them all if it were only given the chance. Cillian sees it whenever he flashes a flirtatious smile at the boy and is met with a curled lip. Whenever he greets, "hello, songbird," and he's brushed aside with a huff and, "that's not my name."

Fingers pluck idly at the strings of a lute; the songbird hoping to please by learning something new.

Cillian says, "I have an instrument you can play."

A sudden discordant note, and oh! The way his cheeks redden! Cillian dreams about it for at least a week thereafter.

"Why do you tease me like this?"

Cillian wants to plant a kiss on those pouting lips, but he doesn't. "Isn't it obvious?"

"If it was, I wouldn't be asking!"

Cillian laughs and begins to walk away. "Goodbye, songbird."

Cillian hates these parties. Spoiled nobility everywhere he looks, and he is forced to guard them. What he wouldn't give to run his blade through the master's heart. But he can't, not yet. He has to be patient. Like any other job, it's all about timing.

There is one bright light of the evening: whenever there is need for entertainment, the songbird is close at hand. Tonight he plays the lyre while the senators dine, and Cillian finds himself watching the precise movements of nimble fingers on strings more than for any signs of danger.

After supper, goblets of wine get refilled while a chorus of dancers entrance them. Among them is the songbird, in linens dyed a rich blue that flutter with each movement. He is as good at the dance as he is with his instruments, and Cillian has the feeling that the boy engages in everything he does with nothing but his whole heart. His strive for perfection is in each arch of his back, every twist of his fingers and toss of his head planned and practiced until deemed presentable not because of orders but because he will not allow himself to perform as anything less than his best.

He is beautiful, and Cillian cannot look away.

Apparently the master thinks it necessary the songbird acquire more practical skills. The master is a fool. Cillian places a hand over the elf's - it is smaller than his, the fingers long and bony and dark against Cillian's pale skin - and guides him in brushing the horse.

"What does it mean? That name you call me?"

"Does it matter? As you've said, it's not your name."

He glares - and there's the fire, rising hot to the surface. "You are the most infuriating man I've ever known!"

Cillian steps back, spreads his arms. "I can leave, if you prefer."

But he never asks Cillian to leave. In fact, they spend more time together, finding one another whenever opportunity arises. Cillian brings him to the armory, shows him how to care for the weapons and polish the guards' armor. It is not a selfless ambition. He likes to be able to look up from training and see the elf there, flushed in the heat of midday sun as he works, and is distracted enough on a few occasions that he ends up getting knocked flat on his arse.

Only when a laugh reaches his ears across the training yard does he realize the songbird is doing it on purpose.

"What does it mean?"

He's cornered Cillian against the wall in the armory. Cillian laughs and breaks easily from the weak grip on his arm.

"Goodbye, songbird."

The elves here are so beaten down, and the worst thing about it is that none of them even seem to realize it. There's a small resistance, a hope so fragile they can do barely more than whisper about it for fear that anything louder and it would disappear like smoke. 

Cillian whispers: he has seen the world outside of this place, it is free and bold and beautiful and it can be theirs if they are brave enough to reach for it. He whispers, and they start to listen. He whispers, and seeds take root.

Cillian decides to teach him to fight. This time his motives are not impure. If certain seeds are ever to flower into reality, the skill will be a necessary one. He's not a fighter by any stretch of the imagination but, Maker bless him, he tries - and fails, and tries again. Always once more, always another round.

"If I didn't know better, songbird, I'd say you were just using the excuse to touch me."

He blushes and yanks his hands back to himself. Then he changes his mind and swings at Cillian's jaw, actually sending him stumbling back. "Good thing you know better."

"What language is it?"

Cillian slaps his arse with a towel and grins when he yelps. "Goodnight, songbird."

The seeds are harder to plant in his head, and Cillian doesn't understand how someone with such spirit can be content to live like this.

"You just don't know better," Cillian insists.

Shoulders stiffen, ears flatten back against the side of his head. A flash of hurt crosses his eyes that Cillian never meant to be the cause of; but it's too late to take the words back.

"Don't touch me." The fire is there, hotter than ever, and the burn of it is such a relief. He turns his head to the side when Cillian leans in, struggling against the hold Cillian has on his wrists. "I said--"

"Songbird. Lark. Alauda."

He looks up then. Their noses brush.

"Do you know what it is? Do you know what it means? Your very name means you're meant for greater things than what you've settled for. You should be free, you should be flying so far from this place, letting the whole world hear your song--"

He slaps him.

Then he kisses him.

His back is riddled with scars. Cillian doesn't have to ask why - he knows the mark of a whip, has felt the sting of one himself on several occasions. What he does instead is map each one with his hands, and follow the trail with his lips. Songbird, my songbird, he mouths against the skin, fairly worshipping.

Stronger than he knows, stronger than he cares to see, and still so beautiful, still so good in spite of the ugliness of the world in which he was raised and thinks he belongs.

"Amatus," he breaths, turning to catch his eye.

Cillian smiles and kisses his neck. "That's not my name."

It earns him a laugh and a playful shove. "Well I'm not telling you what it means."

He doesn't have to, though; it's shining so clearly in his eyes, spoken without words in the way his head tips back and his lips part as they come together.

Beloved.

"What does it mean?"

He's holding a paper in his hand, fingers trembling. One day, Cillian vows, he'll teach him to read. He'll show him so many things when they are free.

"It means we're leaving. Tonight."

#Lark (Alauda) #Cillark #larks story #backstory #lark & cillian #cillian freeborn #my writing #pre campaign

[shift-shaping]

Glimpses: Flowers

@dadrunkwriting​

@talesfromthefade​, @zolamoonshadow​

Rating: M

Genre: Romance

You said any pairing so I thought... why not all of them?

Solas x Surana (Dancer, Student, and Canon verses) 

Dorian Trevelyan

Cullen x Surana

Alistair x Surana 

Yvelle Lavellan x Solas

Verse: Revolutionary

Pairing: Solas x Surana

Warnings: Age gap

She straightened her skirt and took a deep breath, holding the flower pot close to her chest. With a tightly-closed fist she rapped on the door, three swift knocks that made the wood shudder.

Her chest felt tight, her neck damp with nervous sweat. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, straightened her skirt again. Inside the townhouse, footsteps echoed nearer to the door. She breathed in again, still shaky, still tight.

Her ears perked as he swung the door open, her mouth opening pre-emptively. He had a small, confused smile on, and was wearing the business wear she was used to seeing him in.

“Uh -hi,” she said, and his smile widened. “I, uh, I can’t stay very long. But I wanted to give you something.”

He stepped outside with her and closed the screen door behind him. “The flowers?” His gaze fell to the small pot, to the bouquet planted in soil. “They look familiar.”

“Yeah, um,” she laughed and shook her head. “Sorry, I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Is... everything all right?”

“Yeah! Oh, yeah, definitely.” She nodded so vigorously it made her braids bounce. “It’s just really warm in my apartment right now.”

“I see...” He trailed off, awkwardly, then cleared his throat. “Ah, well, if you’d like to come inside...”

“No! I mean, I can’t. I have to go to work in like ten minutes.”

“Oh, right, of course...”

She swallowed hard, then held the flowers out for him. “They’re for you.”

He looked at her, confused, but took them. “You don’t need to give me anything, da’len.”

A small smile pulled at her lips and she looked between the flowers and his face. “They aren’t just anything.”

He looked back at the flowers, studying them closely. Realization dawned on him and he met her eyes again, blinking in surprise. “The ones I gave you...”

“Yeah. Turns out I have a bit of a green thumb.” 

“But, how? They were cuttings.”

She held her hands behind her back, pride calming her now, puffing her chest out. “I found a guide online and followed it to the letter. It took a while, and I could only save some of them, but... I think they look really nice.” 

His smile widened and he shook his head. “They are beautiful, da’len. Truly. You might have a future as a florist.”

“You think?” She’d genuinely never thought of that. “Hm... florist by day, stripper by night?”

“You’d always smell like flowers.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I just... wanted to show you that.”

“Thank you, truly.” He took a half-step closer to her, then stopped himself. “I... I’ll see you tonight then, da’len.”

She smiled, nodded, then started to walk backwards away. “We’re still meeting tomorrow afternoon, right?”

“Provided I don’t have too much to drink tonight.”

“Don’t drink!” She scoffed, grinning brightly. “Give all your money away in tips.”

“Mmm... I’ll consider that.”

She waved as she walked back to the street and climbed into her car. He watched her drive away, holding the flowers in his hands, then leaned back against his door and sighed loudly. There was a slim chance he could keep these things alive.

Pairing: Dorian x Trevelyan

As soon as Dorian learned Wessely’s birthday, he knew he would show no mercy. Wessely was modest to a fault, consistently putting everyone else before himself, and rarely took credit for his own victories. It was time to make him celebrate himself, whether he wanted to or not.

Vivienne and Josephine helped him secure hundreds of flowers and cover the Inquisitor’s room in them. Varric caught a glimpse and seemed to think all three of them had lost their minds, but Vivienne was quick to inform him that he had obviously never given a birthday gift to the Herald of Andraste. They needed his assistance, though, and instructed Varric to keep Wessely busy all afternoon while they made the final preparations. Wessely, in all his idiot kindness, made no complaint as Varric talked his ear off for hours in the courtyard.

Just as the sun neared the horizon Dorian shooed Vivienne and Josephine out, then immediately took off his clothes and climbed on to Wessely’s bed. He shifted amidst the flower petals until coming to a comfortable spot, then rolled on to his side and propped his head in his hand. The finishing touch was a single, very large rose over his crotch.

Varric was supposed to send Wessely in as soon as Josephine and Vivienne left, but Dorian found himself laying seductively in bed cursing the dwarf for over a half-hour. He must have gotten entrenched in one of his stories and lost track of time. Dorian groaned and cast a furtive glance to the setting sun. The timing wasn’t that big of a deal, but if he wasn’t in perfect position the entire effort was ruined, so he couldn’t just go and get his lover from the courtyard.

Time went on and dusk fell into night. After a while, with his wrist now thoroughly numb, Dorian relaxed on the bed into a more comfortable position. The work had been exhausting, and now that he lay in his lover’s massive bed he very badly wanted to sleep. He fought the urge for as long as he could, but eventually succumbed.

Another two hours passed before Wessely finally returned to his quarters. He immediately noticed the flower petals on the stairwell and smelled powerful incense through the door. Warmth flooded his chest and he carefully turned the doorknob, smiling softly when he saw Dorian sleeping on his bed in a pile of flower petals. As gently as he could, he climbed into bed and gave his lover a soft kiss on the forehead.

Dorian blinked and drowsily stretched, squinting at Wessely in the candlelight. “Where in the Maker’s name have you been?”

Wessely chuckled softly and brought Dorian’s hand to his lips, making the other man smile. “Emergency Inquisitor business. Apparently a druffalo stampede delayed our supply lines in the east.”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “These southerners and their stinking, hulking mammals.”

“Giant snakes would have been preferable?” 

Dorian nodded and smirked, wrapping his arms around Wessely’s neck. “At least then you don’t get fur on everything.”

Wessely snorted before leaning down and kissing Dorian deeply, slowly. His partner tasted like wine and sleep, but not in the bitter way every other person did. It was a spell, Dorian said, a spell he’d personally perfected to rid himself of morning breath forever.

“Happy birthday, amatus,” Dorian said as Wessely pulled back. He looked tenderly into the other man’s eyes, quietly admiring their warm brown color.

Wessely smiled, though his brows knit in confusion. “My birthday isn’t for another six weeks.”

Dorian closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded slowly and sighed. “I knew that.”

“Did you?”

“Yes, of course.” He pretended to be offended as he shifted on to his elbows, bringing his face close to Wessely’s. “How could you even suggest otherwise?”

“Ah. My mistake then.” Wessely leaned down and pressed a kiss to Dorian’s neck, making his lover hiss softly with pleasure. Dorian felt a tantalizing brush between his legs, then raised an eyebrow when Wessely brought the rose to his lips. 

“I am exposed,” Dorian said simply, and Wessely laughed before kissing him again, harder now.

“Thank you, Dorian. This means so much to me.”

“Of course, amatus.” He smiled that same warm smile and pulled Wessely back down, drawing their bodies together in the tangle of rose petals littering their bed. 

Verse: Fire is Her Water

Pairings: Cullen x Surana

Warnings: Templar x mage

He always knew where he could find her, and not just because a mage’s schedule was meticulously planned to the minute. If she was not with the animals or in the dense, ancient greenhouses, she was in the library. The curfew for her age was only two hours after dark, but she was allowed to study late into the night. Her work was benevolent, according to the Chantry, even beneficial. Among mages, healers had value and privileges others did not.

He held the ancient tome in his hands and prayed his palms would not dampen the fragile pages. It seemed wrong for his harsh metal gauntlets to hold something so delicate, but he would not put it away. When he gave it to her, perhaps his hands would brush hers, or he could catch a glimpse of her narrow wrists, of her onyx skin peeking from beneath the long sleeves of her robe.

He pushed open the door to the library and narrowed his eyes in the darkness Magic torches cast dim, flickering light over the endless towering bookcases, filling the room with a sunset orange -save for one blue glow, one lonely light tucked inside the reference section.

He went to her, his boots so loud on the uneven floorboards that he cringed from the noise. When he saw her he paused, smiling when he noticed how focused she was on her reading. She didn’t even look up as he approached her, despite the deafening sound of his heartbeat.

“E-Eirwen,” he stuttered, then cleared his throat. She looked up, head tilting, pupils large in the dark. “I got you something.”

Her brows furrowed and she shifted to her feet, brushing dust from her robes. “From where?”

“A -a merchant in town. I thought you might like it.” He held it out to her and she rolled up her sleeves before gently taking it from his hands. Her skin was so smooth, so clear and shining in the dark. His breath caught in his throat and his tongue felt like cotton.

She looked over it, gingerly turning the fragile pages, eyes widening with wonder. The drawings were beautiful and detailed, the writing precise and clear. Page after page showed stunning pictures of flowers from all over the world, in faded but still vibrant color. 

“Cullen,” she said softly, tearing her gaze from the gift. “This is amazing. You... you didn’t have to do this. I... I don’t even have anything to repay you with.” She laughed and looked back down at it, shaking her head. “Thank you so much... this means the world to me.” 

He struggled for words, but they betrayed him like always. He hated how stupid he looked in front of her, how dumb he felt whenever she turned her eyes on him. 

She giggled then and gently shut the book. The floorboards creaked as she shifted forward, putting one hand on his chestplate. Her soft lips pressed to his cheek and his eyes widened, shock overtaking him as he felt her smooth skin against his. “Thank you, Cullen. Thank you so much.”

He stood there, stunned still, as she padded past him to the hall and shut the heavy wooden door behind her. She tore away any sense that he had, left him speechless and dumb, yet he wouldn’t trade her presence for anything. 

Verse: Confessions of a Teacher’s Pet

Pairing: Solas x Surana

Warnings: Teacher x Student, age gap

In three days, it would be six months since she kissed him in his car.

Six months of pining, of desperate sex that never slowed, of near-constant teasing and quiet, aching confessions of love in the middle of the night. It had been a tumultuous six months and entirely unexpected, and but also entirely heaven.

Six months wasn’t much time, but he still wanted to celebrate. Earlier that day, in his office, she’d pulled him close to her, made him corner her against the wall, kissed his neck hard and drew sharp gasps and guttural groans from deep in his chest. His hands grasped for her back and he held her body flush against his, grinding his hips against her, spreading her legs as he lifted her and shifted to swallow a hot moan from her lips. 

They hadn’t been able to finish, and he hadn’t stopped thinking about her. 

As had become their typical schedule, she planned to spend most of the weekend with him in his apartment. She lounged in his shirts and sometimes her underwear, filling his home with her presence. They cooked and watched movies and did their work beside each other on his couch or in his bed. More often than not he found his eyes drawn to her bare legs, or felt her gaze stuck on his forearms. Their distractions fed into each other and inevitably he’d end up between those long, muscular legs in one way or another.

This particular weekend she’d itched for warmth, constantly wrapping herself around him and holding his hand and laying across his lap. It kept him busy and, more importantly, kept her away from the refrigerator.

Normally she had free range with everything in his apartment, but this time he needed her away from the secret hidden behind the vegetables. Every time she got close he’d distract her, sometimes with sex, sometimes with other food or sweet words.

On Sunday, inevitably, she voiced her suspicions. “What are you keeping in that fridge?” Her voice was a low coo as she rested her head on his bare chest, her legs kicking the air, the blankets of his bed laying over her naked back. 

“I have no idea what you’re referring to,” he replied, smirking slightly.

“Every time I get close to your fridge, you pull me away.” She lifted herself up on her hands, pushing her breasts together, challenging him to keep his eyes on her face. “I’m starting to think you’re keeping a decapitated head in there.”

He snorted. “You are always so gruesome. I should think you’d know me better than that by now.”

“Oh, of course.” She grinned and shifted, tossing one leg over his hips and straddling him. He gripped her waist almost instinctively and gave her soft sides a squeeze. “You’re more the type to keep a heart in your fridge. Maybe a couple fingers.”

“That is disgusting.”

She grinded on him and he rolled his eyes. “You still aren’t telling me what it is.”

“I assure you, it is nothing that was once part of a person.”

“Oddly specific wording, hahren.”

“Alright,” he sighed and eased her off him, shaking his head. She giggled as he stood, crawling on the bed to suddenly pull him back. He gasped as she groped him a bit, fingers straying too far down. “I thought you wanted to see the refrigerator?” 

She snorted and moved her hands to hug him instead. “Sorry. I just can’t resist an ass like that.”

He smiled over his shoulder at her. “You are easily distracted, vhenan.”

“You still gave me an A.” 

He hummed softly and turned, greatly tempted to press her back down into the bed and make love to her again. He tucked his fingers under her chin and brought her mouth to his, kissing her deep and slow, letting his teeth pull at her lips before he broke away. She inhaled sharply as he stepped back, sliding his hand down to hers, gently tugging her to her feet. “Come, ma vhenan. Let me show you.”

She groaned but followed him, letting him lead her back to the kitchen. It occurred to him that she must be cold, wearing nothing but a pair of cotton underwear, so on the way to the hall he took a sweater from his desk chair and helped her pull it on over her head. It hung low, down to her mid-thighs, and covered her hands. 

“Should I be bracing myself?” She asked, leaning back against the counter as he opened the fridge. “Is something going to pop out at me?”

He said nothing, and she straightened as he pulled something in a box from the fridge. He laid it down gently, then gave her room to see what it was as he pulled the top of the box off. Her eyes widened and she gasped softly, bringing her sleeve-covered hand to her mouth. 

“Solas...” She said softly, shaking her head. “This is... this is beautiful.” Before her sat a gorgeous cake covered in flawless, colorful frosting flowers. As she looked them over, tears stung her eyes. “The flowers... are these...?” 

Soon after they’d started dating, she left a bouquet of flowers in his mailbox on campus. It was a beautiful collection, vibrant and reminiscent of spring. She saw that now on the cake, the same types of flowers, the same bright color scheme.

“Oh, Solas...” Her voice was small and quiet, and he started to speak before she turned to him and suddenly kissed him, hard and deep, hands on either side of his face.

He stumbled at first, hand barely catching the counter. He hugged her with his free hand, holding her close, and after a moment returned the kiss with just as much passion. 

Pairing: Solavellan

Warnings: Age gap

It took days to figure out what kind of gift Solas would actually like.

Josephine was genuinely shocked he didn’t like tea, and seemed unable to accept it at first. “Truly? But he seems like just the type... are you quite certain he dislikes all tea? Even the sweeter kinds?”

Vivienne had lowered her book and given Yvelle a withering stare. “Darling, just find him some weeds from outside; it’s you he’s after, anyway.” She brought her book up again and shrugged. “Though what the man really needs is a pair of shoes.”

Bull had leaned back in his chair and looked at Yvelle suspiciously. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and figure we’re talking about different kinds of gifts, boss. I mean... I’d consider it, but...” She’d needed Sera to explain what Bull was talking about, and she only told Yvelle five minutes later, after she finished laughing. 

Even Cole’s advice wasn’t particularly useful, but Yvelle didn’t have the heart to tell him that. “He has very few things. Mostly useful things... maybe he wants something that isn’t so useful. It doesn’t have to be real.”

So it was with a great sense of defeat that Yvelle confessed her failure to Cassandra, who she knew liked to read romance novels and might have some advice. She didn’t like admitting inability in front of Cassandra -she felt it made her look inept as a leader- but the Seeker didn’t seem to mind. The slightest hint of a smile pulled at her lips, and she brought Yvelle to the garden. 

“Now, I do not know about Solas specifically, but it is good to consider things he already has and get him something similar that is also unique to you.”

“He has... paints.”

“And books. And likely a great deal of very old things.” They stopped walking in front of a flower pot full of colorful daisies. Both of them were silent for a time, before Cassandra looked at Yvelle with a slight frown. “He enjoys candles, does he not?”

Yvelle tilted her head and nodded, not sure where Cassandra was going with this. “They usually have a bit of a scent, like pine or roses.”

The Seeker’s lips tilted into a smirk. “I believe I may know just the thing.”

A week later, after a small, unobtrusive package arrived for the Inquisitor, she met with Solas on her balcony. After their usual banter and teasing he pressed her back into the railing and kissed her, his hands gentle on her hips. She felt her heart racing, her breathing tighter and harsher, her hands grasping at the back of his shirt. 

He pulled back from her lips to kiss her neck, making her back arch in his hands and her voice break into a girlish moan. His lips tightened, and she felt him chuckle against her skin. “Are you wearing perfume, Inquisitor?”

A warm blush spread over her body and she cleared her throat. “Do you... do you like it?”

He kissed her neck again, then trailed his teeth against the skin. “I do. Very much.”

She shivered and swallowed hard, fingers still grasping at his back. “G -good. It’s, um... daisies...”

His hands slid up her waist, hugging her tighter, and he chuckled again. “Do you know what those mean?”

“...Mean?”

He nodded. “According to Orlesians, anyway. So take it as you will.” He pulled back, resting his forehead against hers and looking into her amber eyes. “The particularly wealthy use flowers to send different messages. Aster is patience, Gardenia is cheerfulness, Iris is wisdom...” 

She smiled and laughed. “How do you know all that?”

He kissed her again, quickly. “I’ve been known to read things from time to time.”

They kissed again, deeper now, and he held her close like he had before. When they broke apart to breathe, she closed her eyes and steadied her voice. “And... what do daisies mean?”

He laughed then, surprising her, and then sighed. “You, ah, you do not want to know.”

“What? Why?” She pulled back, brows furrowed. “What do they mean?”

He moved his hands back down to her waist, then lower, resting just over her rear and making her blush furiously. “Purity.”

She was silent for a moment, the joke sinking in, before she groaned and buried her face in Solas’s chest. “Creators, of course it does...”

He laughed and hugged her, shaking his head. “It still smells very good, Inquisitor. You shouldn’t worry about the meaning.” He kissed her head and she squeezed him tighter. “I love it nonetheless.”

Verse: Fire is Her Water

Pairings: Alistair x Surana

Warnings: Gore

Wynne held Eirwen’s head in her lap, her gaze locked on the girl’s bloodied face, the air crackling with her magic as she willed the destroyed skin back together. “Does anyone have saffron flowers?” Her voice was raw and harsh as she risked a glance upward. “Anyone?!”

Morrigan was already searching through her pack fervently, her hands shaking. “No. I cannot -of course it is the one thing I do not have...”

“There is only so much I can do on my own.” Wynne shook her head as Eirwen groaned in pain. 

“One of us could return to the surface, or at least to Orzammar.” Zevran paced, shaking his head, brows knit tightly as he thought. “Perhaps someone is selling it. They must have herbs down here, or... something...”

“I mean this with all due respect, Zevran,” Wynne started, her voice strangled with frustration as sweat began to drip from her hairline. “You cannot make it back to Orzammar on your own. You have no sense of where your enemy is coming from, without the Taint, you would not survive.” She sighed shakily. “And there is no promise Orzammar will have the herbs regardless.”

“I can do it, I’ll go.” Wynne glanced at Alistair, whose silver armor was dark with blood. He stood steady, with only a minor injury on his cheek.

“We need you here, Alistair.” But she knew that wasn’t true. With so many of them it would be extremely difficult for darkspawn to take them by surprise, and even if they did, the party was well-prepared. “Do you really think you could do it?” She asked, her voice low.

Alistair knelt before her, looking down at Eirwen, at her mauled face. He nodded, his jaw set. “Of course.” There was an unspoken emotion there, something much deeper than the overconfidence of a young man. He reached out and gently stroked her blood-coated braids. 

“Do you know the way?” Morrigan asked, her expression grave as she looked at him. “I could go instead. ‘Tis difficult for a hurlock to catch a crow.”

“What if your mana runs out, or you lose your way? You can’t read a map and fly.”

She stepped forward, arms crossed over her chest. “I could manage. There are other ways to find one’s way to the surface.”

“No, Morrigan,” Wynne cut in sharply. “I need you here, to heal her when I cannot.” Morrigan looked down at Eirwen, her expression hard, but said nothing. “Or at least to keep this from getting any worse.” With her free hand, shaking furiously, she licked her finger and wiped some blood from Eirwen’s forehead. The girl shivered and shifted slightly, so Wynne shushed her quietly. She looked up at Alistair, her gaze stone-hard. “Go, then. Get her Saffron, as much of the entire plant as possible. We’ll make a poultice from it to restore her vision.”

It seemed like an insurmountable task. 

The shriek had caught Eirwen by surprise while she was attempting a healing spell and ravaged the left side of her face, cutting deep from her forehead through her eye and into her cheek, splitting the eye itself in half. Her screams were some of the worst sounds any of them had ever heard, Zevran and Oghren included. Even Shale seemed horrified despite itself, mumbling something about how pitiful fleshy things were as it stepped away from the carnage.

But Alistair left in search of the flowers regardless. In his absence the others looked after his lover, as Morrigan and Wynne struggled to save her eye by sewing each strand of flesh back together with tenuous threads of magic. They were lucky to only face one darkspawn onslaught while they held their position.

He returned more than a day later, drenched in sweat and blood but holding a fistful of saffron in each hand. Much to his shock, however, Eirwen was already blinking and reading.

“What... I don’t...” As soon as she heard his voice the younger warden leapt to her feet and threw herself into him, evidently not caring about the impact of her body on his heavy armor. Despite his surprise he hugged her tightly, burying his fact in her neck, breathing in her scent before he pulled back to look at her. He saw now that her face was not completed healed -there was a strangeness to how she looked at him, her left eye tracking just slightly off from her right. A jagged scar cut through it, but it looked far better than he would have expected.

“You’re back!” She said, cupping his face with her hands. “Alistair, thank you so much.” She kissed him then, making him blink in shock, then stepped back and grasped his wrists in her small hands. “I can’t imagine what you went through... thank you, thank you so much.” She kissed him again, but a sharp, pointed ahem interrupted the moment. 

Morrigan held out her hand to Alistair. “The flowers, Warden.”

“I...” He nodded and handed them to her despite his confusion. “What happened? You...” He looked back at Eirwen. “You look a lot better than when I left.”

“Morrigan found some healing herbs in a side pocket of her bag.” Alistair just stared blankly at the apostate, who shrugged nonchalantly. “They fixed most of it, but I still need some to get me back to normal. I have virtually no depth perception at the moment.”

“Ah, and we cannot have that.” He kissed her again, then let her go when Wynne called her name. Before he went to see her, he stopped, gently grasping Morrigan’s upper arm before she could slip away. “Why, Morrigan?”

She wrenched her arm away from him. “I have no idea what you are referring to, and if you ever touch me again-”

“You know exactly what I’m referring to.”

She relaxed a bit, straightening her back. “I genuinely had forgotten about that pocket until long after you were gone, Warden. She is safe, and so are you. There is little more you can ask of me, so I suggest you let this go.”

He shook his head, his expression tightening, before he sighed and deflated. “Only for her sake, witch. Because she likes you.”

“As she should.” Morrigan shrugged, and a slight smirk pulled at her lips. “I did save her life, didn’t I?” 

Verse: The Lion and the Wolf

Pairing: Solas x Surana

Warnings: Age gap

“Supposedly, this was once a great plain.” Eirwen swept her arm out dramatically, indicating the wide swath of empty desert before them. “There were small oases all over, and legendary, long-gone animals like plains lions and pygmy elephants sought refuge in them.” She brought her flask to her lips and took a long drink before sighing heavily. “Come on, I want to show you something.” She urged her mount, an old grey mare, further toward the nothingness. 

Solas sat beside her atop a calm russet-colored horse. He wore a heavy hood over his bald head, and his robes fell low past his hands. A hot desert wind blew past him and he shifted uncomfortably in the leather saddle before following Eirwen. “The Blight destroyed this place, did it not?” He asked, looking over at her from beneath his hood.

She nodded stiffly, staring ahead. “It seeped into the soil and killed any signs of life within it. No soil meant no grass or trees, which meant no elephants, and therefore no lions. Nothing has grown here since.” She stopped them in a place apparently no more remarkable than any other in the wasteland and dismounted. He followed her, a few feet behind.

“From what I’ve read, it was the sight of a great battle during the Second Blight. The earth is stained with tainted blood...” He shook his head, feeling a shiver despite the heat. “I cannot imagine the horrors they must have seen. Even in the Fade, it is not the same.”

“No, it’s not,” she replied bluntly, and he swallowed hard.

“You have seen things most cannot fathom.” He shook his head. “Why come here, vhenan?”

“Because it’s not all terrible.” She stepped forward and knelt in the sand, gesturing for him to come down with her. “The Blight is like a scar here, but even scars can heal.” He looked at her, at the ragged, faded marks on her dark skin. “It takes time, and magic, but it’s possible.”

She carefully spread the sand apart, digging down until she’d created a semi-stable hole. He watched silently, curiously, as she took a small object from her pocket and pushed it gently into the ground. Then she sat back on her heels and took her water canteen from her bag. She poured it over the object, drowning it, then waved her hand over the hole.

He felt the Veil shift and saw sparks shiver from her hand. Lightning washed over the hole and spread out into the sand, darkening threads through the sediment.

“This is the important part,” she said, reaching into her bag again to retrieve a small vial of dark, glimmering blood. His brows knit and a question started to form on his lips. “Dragon blood,” she said, before he could ask. She popped open the vial and tilted it, letting red-black liquid fall into the hole. 

It hissed when it hit the sand, letting off steam as it seeped into the ground. He stayed quiet, patient, waiting for a purpose. She let out a slow, shaky breath and he felt the Veil shift again, shifting towards her, giving him the slightest tug. He looked at her now, at the concentration furrowing her brows, at the hard stare she leveled at the seed.

Another stiff desert breeze blew through them, disrupting the hole, but she didn’t seem to care. The harsh sun drew sweat to his forehead and he took a long drink from his canteen.

It happened slowly, so slowly that at first he didn’t notice anything was happening at all. But gradually, with an effort that made her magic twist the Veil tight as a vice, a small green sprout broke from the seed. It rose, fed by the sunlight and the magic she forced into it. Higher and higher it grew, until it was easily six inches tall. A thick bud formed on the end of it, and with another harsh tear of magic it spread into a vibrant purple flower.

She sat back, panting heavily, eyes closed. He kept staring at it, mesmerized, still entranced even as she collapsed into his lap and groaned with exhaustion.

He instinctively rested his hand on her stomach, touching her just because he could. His other hand reached for the flower, and he stroked the soft, sturdy petals with gentle fingers. “This is incredible, Eirwen.”

She laughed, and when she spoke he could hear her smile. “You think so? I’m glad. I wanted to show you something that would be new for you.” He looked down at her and raised an eyebrow. “It seems like you’ve seen everything before, in the Fade.” She lay on her side, eyes squinted nearly shut to protect from the sun’s violent gaze. “I wanted to show you something you couldn’t find there.”

He smirked and leaned down to kiss her cheek, earning himself a happy hum. “You already show me plenty of things I cannot find in the Fade, vhenan.”

She groaned and sat up, shifting so she was beside him again. “Don’t be so sappy, you’ll ruin it.”

“Is your flower allergic to romance?” He asked with a smirk. 

“Just excessive sweet-talking.” But she was smiling, and blushing, and then she kissed him slow and deep.

When they separated, it was not because either truly wanted to. The sun was too hot, the sand starting to burn through their pants, and frankly, they both could use a bath. “That technique,” he said as they stood, holding her hands in his. “How applicable is that to animals?”

“Not very.” She sighed. “Trust me, I’ve tried. You can clarify certain parts of the soil, but a body is too... fast. The dragon blood can do much worse things to you before you can actually get something useful from it.”

He clicked his tongue and frowned. “It is a start, though.”

“It is. But I feel like I never get far from that.” She pulled away from him and started to mount her horse, leaving him to watch her.

“Perhaps... one day you could return this place to what it was.”

She snorted and slung her leg over her horse. “I’d need a lot of lyrium for that.”

He smiled and walked up to her, admiring how the sun made her dark skin gleam. He also, admittedly, rather liked seeing her above him. “Or we could casually tear down the Veil and reshape the world how we see fit.”

She raised an eyebrow. “To grow a few more flowers?”

“And bring back some elephants.”

“Lions too?”

“Of course.”

She smiled and straightened in her seat. “I’ll think about it, love. It sounds like a lot of work, though.”

“Ah, perhaps too much.”

“I’m very lazy.” She leaned over, cupped his cheeks, and strained her side to kiss him. “Now get on your horse. I need more water.”

“Ma nuvenin, ma vhenan.”

As he walked back to his mount she grinned, watching how his hips shifted with each step. Her hands shook as she took the reins, as she hid how exhausted she was from him. Her magic was weaker here, though it shouldn’t have been. In this place, where the Blight scarred the lands, the song was much stronger. It interrupted her spells, made it harder for her to penetrate the Veil. But it was worth it to show him that renewal was possible, that beauty could be born from desert sand. 

if you enjoyed this fic, please hit the reblog button on this post. comments are cool but not necessary -you can leave no tags, a keysmash, or even just ‘nice’ if you’d like! thanks for your support -arden <3

#glimpses #solasmance #dorian x trevelyan #solavellan #alistair x warden #cullen x warden #alistair x surana #cullen x surana #verse: the lion and the wolf #verse: confessions of a teacher's pet #verse: fire is her water #Verse: revolutionary #dwc #student x teacher #i worked on this ALL WEEK #enjoy it #take it awaaay

[leoneliterary]

This is the beekeeping dad audio lol

My mc is a dancer and I can't help but imagine a similar escenario happening in the dressing room, one of the girlies there must have teased my mc about their hot father and then later my mc would just stare at amatus like "my friends think you're attractive, stop it right now 😡", as if he could just turn off the dilf powers

I still can't get over this clip 😂

Thank you to the anons who have shared this with me!

You are very correct, I could definitely see this happening haha

Several of the performers at the Silken Sands are thirsty. For like, all of the Talons. One of them is flagrantly into Amatus and you'll have a chance to meet and be mortified by her. Another is into Sefu and sometimes Tamu. Y'all will see how well that is going for her.

#funny ask #beekeeping #beekeeping dad #interactive fiction #honor amongst thieves #if wip #interactive novel #ros #Amatus #game development #worldbuilding

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

Hanky Panky

Jim Kirk x WOC!Reader

Summary: When a mission has Jim and you beaming down to Auro - a planet that looks and feels like 1960, you are nervous for many reasons. One being that that era of time was not kind to a person of your ethnicity and the second - you were finally alone with Jim.

A/N: This is really first real WOC!Reader fic. Honestly, I always write my fics and the reader as a person of color - because they usually are based on me - A MEXICAN. So I wanted to do something special for my fellow WOC. Enjoy. And I definitely know their are men of color that follow me and if any of you want a specific fic for you - let me know! I’d be happy to write something! 

Warning: mention of racism - fuck that shit.

This for Trek Fest 2017′s Kirk Week!

 “Are we all set, Scotty?”

Your eyes gabled at the vintage clothing on your body and a tingle of nervous excitement flashed through you. Jim tugged at the hem of his brown coat and looked over at the engineer.

“Scotty?”

“Ay, Captain. All set.”

The man looked up from the control panel and a soft smile pressed from his lips. “Ay, lassy - you look lovely.”

“Thanks, Scotty.” You exhaled, “I hoped it’s accurate to Auro’s fashion the natives wear.”

“I assure you, Lieutenant Y/L/N that it is.”

Spock nodded to you - his hands tucked behind his back. “Research has showed that the inhabitants of Auro have claimed a life reminiscence to the early 1960’s.”

You looked down at the gray high waist skirt and black long sleeve knit sweater gracing your body - not to mention the black stockings and matching flats. You had to admit - it didn’t look half bad. Moving your gaze over to the Captain, you couldn’t help but admire his clothing - or at least how it looked on him. The first thing you couldn’t help but noticed was the way his hair was perfecting combined to the side showing off his high forehead - which did things to you. The outfit he was given was simple - a plain white tee under a dark green flannel and brown coat to go over it with dark slacks.

His blue eyes looked over to you and he smiled. “Are you ready?”

You moved to the transporter but hesitated when a thought came to your mind.

“Commander Spock, you’ve done full research on Auro, yes?”

“Correct. The two of you are to only observe, that is all.”

Jim glanced at you. “What’s going on?”

“Well,” you started, “it’s just - well.”

“Spit it out,” Jim chuckled and shook his head - noting how devastatingly attractive you looked when you were pondering away.

Eyeing each man, you sighed and threw a hand up. “FOR GODSAKES! MUST I SPELL IT OUT! DURING THAT TIME - A WOMAN OF MY COLOR WALKING NEXT TO JIM COULD HAVE CONSEQUENCES!”

A silence fell over the transportation room, until Spock’s eyes lit up in realization. He cleared his throat and looked to his Captain. “Lt. Y/L/N is addressing the racial issue that plagued the 1950’s - which spilled out until the early 60’s.”

“And throughout the history of the United States of America,” you added swiftly.

Jim’s eyes flew to yours and he strided to you, placing a hand onto your shoulder. “I wouldn’t - we would never send you down to a place like that.”

You looked to Spock for confirmation and he noted that the people of Auro had not occupied that particularly horrifying behavior. “Only the setting and day to day life - nothing else. Everyone is free to roam where they want and with whomever.”

Jim’s hand squeezed your shoulder and he smiled gently at you. “Are you ready to go, then?”

Inhaling deeply with relief, you shake your head yes and the two of you walked onto the platform. He stood next to you and gave you that perfect smirk on his, before looking to Scotty.

“Beam us down, Scotty.”

The air was thick with life, the colors vibrate and vivid. Your mouth gaped out an impressive gasp, eyes not knowing where to go next. It felt like the two of you had stepped into a time machine and your body felt alive - wanting to explore every nook and cranny of the small planet.

The two of you started down the street, taking in every shop and car that passed. The people were friendly, smiling and saying hello as they walked on by - the woman’s clothing varied from long knitted skirts to mod style dresses. The men looked timely in their suits and the ones in casual wear looked very much like Jim, who was walking next to you - just as enchanted.

“This is amazing - I’ve seen classic movies and this place looks like Hairspray.”

“Hairspray?”

Jim nodded at a young man carrying a stack of books before looking to you in confusion.

“I guess we know who didn’t take the classic movie course,” you teased, stopping in your tracks with a jolted halt.

“Must have sleep through..” Jim paused when he realized you were not beside him. Turning around, he spotted you a few steps back - staring at something. Walking to you, he touched you lightly on the arm and followed your gaze. Across the street was what looked like an eating establishment. “Red Racer,” he read slowly.

“I’m suddenly very hungry. What about you, Jim?”

Your eyes were glued to the red painted diner, with large windows around the building and a coke machine in the front. Sensing the excitement coming from you, he agreed and offered his arm to you. Taking it, the two of you crossed the street.

Walking up to the diner, you released your hand from Jim as he opened the door to you. Stepping inside, again you were left speechless. Black and white checkered tile graced the floor and music - the music filled the small restaurant

“Well aren’t you a cute couple - take a seat and I’ll be right with you.” A brunette in a red flare dress with a pink apron motioned for the two of you to pick a seat. You looked to Jim, who suggested a back booth. The waitress smiled and went to grab two menus.

Sliding into the vinyl booth, you grinned as Jim took a seat across from you. His blue eyes took you in and a soft smile crept from the corner of his lips.

“What should we order?”

You pondered his question before suggesting hamburgers, fries and two cokes. When the waitress arrived with the menu, you politely declined and ordered for Jim and you. Your feet danced under the table to the song that was playing and Jim laughed at your fidgeting.

“Let me guess - classical music history course?”

Leaning into the table, you looked around before speaking in a low voice. “Beside the whole racist nonsense of this decade - it’s my favorite time in history. The music, the style - the simplicity. It’s a gas.”

Jim’s eyes crinkled as a loud laugh left his throat. “A gas!”

“Yes, Jim! A gas! It means fun - having a good time! I’m glad one of us did some studying before coming here.”

Holding a hand up in defense, Jim ceased his laughter and just smiled - smiled ever so perfectly at you and for that brief moment, you wished to never leave the diner. Your gaze on him, had Jim looking down at his lap before retreating his eyes up when the waitress brought the two cokes to the table.

“The burgers should be out soon.”

Thanking her, you took a long sip from the cold beverage and sighed. “Wow, that is good.”

Jim concurred and started talking about catching a classic movie while the two of you were down here. Agreeing, your eyes went to the jukebox in your line of sight and smirked.

“Jim, do you have the currency Spock gave you?”

“Sure, why?”

“I need change,” you requested getting up from the booth and holding out a hand. With a well crafted simper, Jim rummaged in his pockets and placed two dimes in your hand - staring down at the coins you scoffed.

“So odd,” you murmured before walking to the jukebox.

Back at the booth, Jim moved to the edge of the seat, letting his legs fall in front of him and his right elbow rest on the table. He ran a look up and down your body, not ogling - admiring. It was no secret, Jim was taken with you and had been for quite some time. You felt the same, but neither of you acted on it - for reasons unknown, but mostly because the two of you never had any privacy. He was the Captain of the Enterprise and you were a well gifted Lieutenant - whose skills varied from medical to communications. The two of you were practically running the vessel and never could catch a break - until now. As he sat there, watching you studying the song catalog - Jim realized opportunity was calling. It was time to let you know he wanted you in the worst and best way.

Flipping through the jukebox options, you landed on a song that you knew well and pushed the two dimes in, selecting the song along with another and turned to Jim.  

“My baby does the hanky panky, my baby does the hanky panky..”

You hips started to sway to the beat, the singer’s voice was raw and the song itself sounded amatuer - as if it was recorded in a garage, yet it made the song sound delicious. Jim grinned - eyes glued to the way your hips moved - mesmerizing him as you held out a hand. He chuckled and shook his head no, but your eyes narrowed and your shoulders jerked side to side - every so seductively, at least that’s what Jim saw. So he got up and hesitated before walking over to you.

“I saw her walking on down the line, you know I saw her for the very first time. A pretty little girl standing all alone. Hey, pretty baby, can I take you home..”

“Don’t tell me the great Jim Kirk isn’t a dancer?”

Jim scoffed and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you into his body. You gasped quietly and relished in the closeness of the man you had very much cared for - smiling as he spun you around and dipped you, before slowly bringing you back up to his eye level. His groin moved against yours, the heat rose from your toes and suddenly the knit sweater you had on - felt a little too warm. A hand moved down to the small of your back and the two of you danced dangerously close - his eyes fell to your lips and the song faded into the background. Your were breathless as the song finished and the only sound was little bits of conversation floating through the diner. Jim pressed his hand further into your back, making sure there was no room left between the two of you. Hitching a breath, you slid both hands up his arms and rested them against the base of his neck.

“Hey,” he whispered out in a brief chuckle.

“Hey back.” Your bottom lip twitched in anticipation, slowing pulling his head down to you just as the next song came on.

Everything seem to stand still as Jim licked his lips, inches from yours - eyes closed as you felt his body against yours, his warm hand radiated through your clothing. And when his lips touched yours, it felt like a dream.

A long awaited dream - that was interrupted with a curt clearing of a throat. It was the waitress and she was slightly amused - holding two plates of food.

“I’m sorry kiddos - that isn’t allowed in here.”

Panic riddled your body, maybe Spock was wrong. Your hands fell from Jim’s neck and went to the communicator hed had  tucked in his jacket, ready to be beamed up.

“Excuse me?” Jim retorted with anger. “We have every right to be here - if I want to kiss my girl, I will-”

“No, you got it wrong sugar,” she laughed and your hand left Jim’s pocket, keeping the communicator hidden. “We don’t care about that sorta thing - what do you think we are? Scum! No, just meant none of that snogging! That’s what make-out hill is for!”

Relaxing, Jim apologized and quickly motioned for you to take a seat - smiling when you chose his side. Getting in after you, he apologized again and thanked her for the food.

“Don’t worry about it - the two of you were not that bad. You should see the teenagers on a Friday night! Rowdy crowd, enjoy the burgers.”

She turned to leave, but you called to her. “I’m sorry, but you mentioned a make-out hill?”

Jim tried desperately to hide the knowing smirk on his face and took a bite of his burger.

The waitress grinned and nodded. “It’s only about a 10 minute walk from here, go down Adams and turn on Rowell - it’s a small park overlooking the drive-in.”

“Oh, that’s - good to know.”

Laughing the waitress agreed and winked at you before turning to leave.

“Make-out hill, really?”

Jim nudged you playfully and you shrugged. “Our mission is take in all that Auro has to offer. I think make-out hill is a good start, don’t you?”

Unable to argue with such magnificent logical, Jim leaned into your side and pressed a kiss onto your forehead, letting his lips linger down to your ear. “That’s a great idea, Lieutenant.”

“The report you sent in on Auro was very informative, Captain.” Spock stood next to Jim on the Bridge, while you manned Uhura’s station, because she had the day off.

“I’m glad to hear that, Spock.”

“With one exception, if you may.”

Jim looked over to the Vulcan and asked him to go on.

“Well, I do not understand the details of what you described as the make-out hill. Why was that necessary to add to the report?”

Spock stared at Jim, who grinned. “It just was, Spock - will you ever stop questioning me?”

“No.”

Ignoring his friend, Jim looked over his shoulder to you. A song came to his mind, one that had been stuck in his head for days now and when you caught his gaze with a shared smile - he turned with a wide grin and the first words of the song came tumbling out of his mouth - so quiet not even the Vulcan next to him could hear.

“My baby does the hanky panky..”

Enjoyed the story? If you can spare a dollar or so, consider supporting my blog! Thanks love! 

Being lazy and tagging those who come to mind at the moment. @travelwithwords @outside-the-government @yourtropegirl @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @imoutofmyvulcanmind @spinsterlocity @girl-next-door-writes

#trek fest 2017 #jim kirk x reader #jim kirk x woc!reader #woc!reader #star trek aos #jim kirk #kirk x reader #James t Kirk x reader