🏳️🌈 Happy Pride 🏳️🌈
Two of my favorite bisexual characters - Dust & Briva - celebrating Pride at a rooftop party in San Myshuno
Dust Lavellan belongs to @nerdlingwrites She was kind enough to let me render her for Pride 🥺
14 notes
·
View notes
dragon age...fixation....taking over again...AAAUGHHH
92 notes
·
View notes
Are we going to talk about how scary being the Inquisitor is for a Lavellan or…?
I mean, the more and more I have played this game, the more the Chantry shit is terrifying. Over and over again, you see painful and irrefutable evidence about the shit humans did to elves in the name of the Maker. The Exalted Plains is an obvious example. (I consistently call it Dirthavaren you don’t like it fight me bitch)
Like I think the entire fandom can agree on fuck that bitch sister Amity. The Chantry crusades destroyed what was left of the elves, destroyed them. Culture, body and spirit. Like be honest, there aren’t many Dalish clans left and each time a new game/book comes around, another one bites the dust. It’s so easy to lose your clan in Inquisiton and even easier to accidentally kill off Marethari’s. Hell, you can choose to kill Zathrian’s.
The Dalish are dying out, any way you slice it.
Then suddenly a hole rips open in the sky and everybody thinks Lavellan did it. It destroys the Conclave…don’t tell me for one second that the humans didn’t immediately start developing an ‘elves and vengeance and antiMaker’ conspiracy theory. The ‘remain silent’ dialogue option in that first interaction isn’t a stoic ‘I don’t give a fuck’ to me, it’s more of a ‘whatever I say doesn’t matter I’m already dead’ for a Dalish Inquisitor.
The true horror is knowing that they wont just kill you, they’ll call for a bloodbath on elves across Thedas.
“For the elves were guilty of the greatest sin, of turning from the Maker.”
You’ve damned them all and you can’t even remember how or why. For a First, it must be terrifying to realize even if you try to diplomatically talk your way out of it, they’ll never believe you. As a hunter or warrior, you know it’s hopeless. All you can do is throw yourself forward as the villain, claim that whatever happens you acted alone and take as many of these shems out with you as you can. As a mage you know if they take pity on you, you’re condemned to their mage-slavery prisons.
“Whatever you think I did, I’m innocent!”
But then they believe you (barely, like thank the Creators the Lavellan clan taught you how to talk to humans civilly and not panic) but it’s basically a hostage situation. There’s one other elf with you and even if he’s not Dalish thank Mythal because shit you were scared and you’re still scared but at least it’s something. His name is ‘Pride’. You take it as a sign from the Creators that it’s not time to give up yet. Suledin, you think.
There is an orb, a weapon that caused this. Solas tells you it’s elven and your heart sinks.
“Eventually, the humans will find a way to blame elves…”
You become Inquisitor and things are a little better but the humans call you Herald of Andraste. You don’t believe in their Maker but none of them care. You know your clan would feel betrayed, think you’ve given up your gods. You haven’t of course but the terror is there…what if the gods think you’ve given up them? You talk to Cassandra and Leliana, trying to understand the human chantry and maybe figure out a way for your two beliefs to coexist.
But no.
You realize it wont help. Cassandra talks about spreading the Maker’s word to all corners of Thedas…you remember the lonely howls of the wolves across Dirthavaren. You know what ‘spreading the Makers word’ means. Leliana at least acknowledges what the Chantry did, but she dismisses it with words. All those lives and hopes and dreams dismissed with the words ‘that hate won’t just go away if you dissolve the Chantry’. You understand what she really means, though.
She’s saying that the hate will never go away, not until the elves are just like humans. The Chantry will never stop. She says she wants elves to be part of the chantry so they survive and you try not to taste bile in the back of your throat when you think of what that means.
“My father says humans are like weeds that choke out the grass…”’
Slowly, slowly, slowly...they consume you.
730 notes
·
View notes
OC Questionnaire
Thanks for the tag @brother-genitivi and @greypetrel! I tried to do this for two of the OCs I talk about a little less c: I'm tagging you both back in case there are other OCs you'd like to do this for!
(Also, I swapped star sign for the tarot card I associate them with because I don't know shit about astrology lol)
Tagging back @pinayelf @jtownnn @heniareth @blightbear @dungeons-and-dragon-age @vakarians-babe @star--nymph @daggerbean @ndostairlyrium @scribbledquillz @inquisimer @dreadfutures @palipunk (and if anyone ever wants me to stop tagging them in these things, please lmk!!)
NAME: Salshira Lavellan
NICKNAME: Sal (she hates this; it’s a childhood nickname from her mother)
GENDER: Female
TAROT CARD: Knight of Wands
HEIGHT: 5’6”
ORIENTATION: Bi
NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY: Dalish (Hispanic)
FAVORITE FRUIT: Plums
FAVORITE SEASON: Fall
FAVORITE FLOWER: Daisies (followed closely by sorrel and ranunculi)
FAVORITE SCENT: Cinnamon/nutmeg
COFFEE, TEA, OR HOT CHOCOLATE: Sipping chocolate c:
AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: 6
DOGS OR CATS: Yes
DREAM TRIP: Antiva
NUMBER OF BLANKETS: Three
RANDOM FACT: Salshira is ambidextrous, but she pretends to be right-handed
NAME: Tavitha Hallowthorn/Octavia Raithborne
NICKNAME: Tav
GENDER: Female
TAROT CARD: Eight of Pentacles
HEIGHT: 6’7”
ORIENTATION: Demi
NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY: Half-wood elf (Hispanic)
FAVORITE FRUIT: Golden apples
FAVORITE SEASON: Spring
FAVORITE FLOWER: Pale roses
FAVORITE SCENT: Freshly-sanded wood, marble dust
COFFEE, TEA, OR HOT CHOCOLATE: Tea
AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: 7.5
DOGS OR CATS: All animals are precious and should be in her vicinity immediately (she prefers pigeons/birds, though)
DREAM TRIP: No, thank you. Right here is fine. (Maybe Chult. Maybe. But only because she wants to meet dinosaurs)
NUMBER OF BLANKETS: One heavy blanket
RANDOM FACT: Seriously considered asking Halsin to teach her about being a druid, but only because being a bear looks really fun.
28 notes
·
View notes
fic rec list!
been seeing a lot of these today and it got me thinking about making my own :o
tumblr urls added whenever possible
if you happen to know an author's tumblr url that didn't get listed, pls rb this and @ them! i'm not trying to keep my recs or praise any kind of secret from them :')
keep your hands on me by LathboraViran (cullen/solas; rated E; no archive warnings apply)
author summary: Cullen is bad at card games, and Varric doesn't always play for coin. The cost of a lost game of Diamondback? Cullen has to kiss Solas. It goes both better and worse than he had expected.
my notes: i really loved this - both cullen and solas are written incredibly well. it's hot, nuanced, and feels so true to both of them and how they could come together meaningfully
With the Tide by desiredemon (jazzmckay) ( @jazzmckay ) (fenris/m!hawke; rated T; no archive warnings apply)
author summary: In the wake of their final fight for Kirkwall, Hawke and his friends escape the city together. They've been through an ordeal, the future is uncertain, and emotions are still running high--in the aftermath, the dust settles.
my notes: jazz is an extraordinary writer and they managed to get everyone's voices down so, so well. this is a compelling look at what happens after the events of da2, with all the inherent complexity intact
Power, Intrigue, Danger, and Sex by Hezjena (andruil/fen'harel/ghilan'nain; rated E; no archive warnings apply)
author summary: When Solas later recalled the evening, he liked to imagine it was the result of careful manipulation, a triumph of his skilled diplomacy and a delicious trickery where he allowed himself to be underestimated… rather than the result of too much ice wine and morbid curiosity.
***
That time Solas accidentally-on-purpose has a threesome with Andruil and Ghilan’nain in Ancient Elvhenan.
my notes: okay, i am head over heels with how everyone is written here. solas' characterization is perfect, and both andruil and ghilan'nain are utterly fascinating - as individuals, in their dynamic with each other, and in the way they interact with solas in this. it's hot and messy, mind the tags, and a wonderful examination of arlathan's culture
let me wrap my teeth around the world by wizardlover ( @wizardfvcker ) (solas/varric; rated E; no archive warnings apply)
author summary: “Aren’t we friends, Solas?”
This seems to startle him enough that he turns to look at Varric. In the dimness of the tent his eyes reflect the light from the fire outside, like a wild animal.
“I would call us that, yes."
“Then won’t you share whatever burden is pressing you down with me? That’s what friends are for, you know.”
“Not this one." Varric sighs.
“Come on, Chuckles. I’ll get back out there and get the Inquisitor to spill it, but it seems like a waste when I’m already here.”
Solas is quiet for a long moment—he has shifted around again, so Varric can only see the rise and fall of his back as he breathes, carefully controlled.
“I am… compromised,” he says. Varric waits. “That damned plant, combined with an errant spell—I have… urges. And I can’t—it is—” He cuts himself off, frustrated, and isn’t that a wonder, Solas out of words? And then,
“Urges?” Varric stifles a laugh. “Do you mean—”
“You know what I mean, dwarf,” Solas hisses, and Varric realizes that his neck is red and the tips of his ears have gone pink, and that the air in the tent is warm and stuffy and a little heady, all of a sudden. He clears his throat.
my notes: i am, of course, always so thirsty for solas/varric content - the world needs more of it - but also this particular fic is delightful. i love the writing, particularly the way varric describes solas' behavior and staring - i've come back to read this multiple times because it's just... really, really good. also hot!
The Switch by playwithdinos ( @playwithdinos / @dinoswrites ) (f!lavellan/solas; rated E; creator chose not to use archive warnings)
author summary: Lavellan usually lets Solas take charge when they're alone, but she's back from slaying the Fereldan Frostback and she's not in the mood to bow to anyone.
Fill for this kink meme prompt: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/13696.html?thread=53207680
my notes: love this one soooo much - lavellan is fascinating here and the way she takes charge is delightful, i particularly enjoyed how it began so much earlier than in the bedroom - and solas is written so well, love his characterization here. it's very hot and another i've definitely come back to
That Time of the Month by bluebeholder ( @wanderingnork ) (f!adaar/solas; rated E; no archive warnings apply)
author summary: Kubide gets her period. Solas offers a suggestion for how they might have some fun.
They're going to have to burn the sheets when they're done.
my notes: love this one so much - every line is just rife with characterization and depth, absolutely love the way kubide conducts herself and her reactions throughout, the physical descriptions are wonderfully done, and overall it's super hot and makes their feelings for each other incredibly clear.
In the Blue Morning by rosieofcorona ( @rosieofcorona ) (f!lavellan/solas; rated G; author chose not to use archive warnings)
author summary: He wants to stay like this forever, wants the sun to forget to rise, wants the castle to sleep and sleep in an endless dream.
But the light keeps coming, every moment. The castle will wake, and they will see.
And this will cost them, in the end.
my notes: this was such a delight when i first read it, and still such a delight when i just reread it now ;o; the way everything is described is really beautiful, and the balance between them, the juicy foreshadowing, everything, it's so good. a soft moment that acknowledges what is to come
Master and Apprentice by ar_lath_vhenan ( @arlathvhenan ) (f!lavellan/solas; rated T; no archive warnings apply)
author summary: He was playing with her then, just as she had played with him only moments ago. He’d seen through her thinly veiled flirtations—her shameless assault on his composure—and finally settled on a counter offensive now that he possessed the upper hand. The tricky bastard.
—
In which Solas teaches Lavellan to paint
my notes: i really, really enjoy this fic - the intimacy alongside the uncertainty is wonderfully complex, and the descriptive language for how they manuever around/with each other has never failed to impress me. love this lavellan too <3
10 notes
·
View notes
Happy Fridayyy~ For DADWC: "DAY 23: presumed dead" ;-;
HI GIN THANK YOU. I got Thalia x Saeris on the brain again so here, have some pain.
Thalia and Dorian discuss the loss(?) of a certain elven scout for @dadrunkwriting
WC: 667
---
“Word for you, ser,” says the requisitions officer, handing Thalia a missive.
She takes it, unrolls the parchment, reads the words. Then reads them again. The third time, the ink starts to blur together in her vision.
“This can’t be right,” she whispers.
It says her scout, Saeris Lavellan, was ambushed with his team by a group of Freedmen. None were presumed to have survived. Her mouth feels dry and sticky.
She leaves the camp, sits on a log, and stares out over the leafy expanse of the Emerald Graves, the missive clutched in her hand.
Dorian finds her there, some time later.
“Sovereign for your thoughts,” he says, stepping over the log with long legs and settling beside her.
Thalia swallows hard and looks down. “It’s nothing.”
“Ah, yes. Getting a letter, going white, and then disappearing for hours certainly implies it’s nothing.” Dorian adjusts himself, dusts a bit of pollen off one shoulder. “Beautiful place, these Graves, but I’m being eaten alive by mosquitos. Maker, do I hate the South.”
She can tell he’s trying to get a laugh out of her, but she can only manage a pained smile. “Do you remember one of our scouts? Saeris?”
“The elf with the great hair?”
Thalia snorts. “That’s the one.”
“Only in passing. I’m not sure we ever talked. But he cut a striking figure, so I confess he does stand out in my memory.” Dorian narrows his eyes at her. “What about him?”
The words stick in Thalia’s throat. “He’s dead.”
“Ah.” Dorian shifts his weight. “That’s too bad.”
Too bad. Is that really all it is? She crumbles the parchment tighter in one fist. “He’s, um. He was nice to me. I liked his bird.” She sounds like an idiot. She inhales sharply, fighting an onslaught of tears.
Dorian peers at her, surprised. “Sounds like it was a touch more than that, perhaps?”
“Yeah. Maybe.” They had kissed once, while camping together in the forests outside Crestwood, when she was brooding over the mistakes she’d made with Blackwall. She agonized over that kiss afterward, worried it was too forward of her, too stupid for her to jump at the first man to be kind to her since the warden. That maybe it would be too strange to continue, her as a highborn lady and Saeris as a representative of the Dalish. But she’d wanted to, maybe, once time permitted. Once her responsibilities cleared out, and she could think about it logically.
And now it was too late.
“The Freedmen,” she says, with a sniffle and a scoff. “They’re just some desperate rabble-rousers. That’s hardly a fitting end.”
Dorian watches her with a heavy expression. “I am not sure any end is fitting, when it comes down to it. It’s always too little, too soon. You always think there will be more time.” He’s looking past her now, into the rustling foliage. Thalia swallows, remembering that Dorian has ghosts of his own, ones that follow him in his quest to aid the Inquisition.
She sighs, wiping at her eye with a knuckle. “They didn’t even find his body.” There was a grim poetical quality to it, that Saeris should be lost in a land named for the slaughter of his ancestors.
Dorian puts a hand on her shoulder. “Come now. It doesn’t do to dwell on the gruesome details. Return to camp with me and we can toast to his memory.”
Thalia raises an eyebrow. “You’ve brought alcohol with you?”
“When am I ever without it?” Dorian grins. “A nice Minrathous red I’ve been saving for a special occasion, ever since I bribed the quartermaster to obtain it.”
Thalia snorts in spite of herself.
Dorian nods. “I think now could not be a finer time to drink it.”
He leads her through the gathering dusk by the elbow. Thalia stuffs the missive in the pocket of her trousers. She’ll pull it out from time to time in the future, read it over again, and wonder.
11 notes
·
View notes
I saw this question floating around and thought it fascinating so WOE inquiry be upon ye:
If you had to pick 5 fics you’ve written to make a “crash course” and sum up your writing personality, which would they be?
This is so sweet to ask, thank you 😭 I love a chance to ramble.
The first one has gotta be the intro to Virelan Lavellan, who hadn't been fully formed yet in my brain by this point. I'd wanna be felled by you, held by you (fuel the pyre of your enemies) is a rambling Hozier reference used as a pretty cover for primal kink fade sex. I just really like making beautiful smut and using it for character revelations.
Another smut as character study is this fic that forms little vignettes around bits of canon banter between Solas and Blackwall. Lay Down Your Armour was my case for the Blackwall x Solas ship as an example of two similar men finding refuge in each other. It was one of the works that really cemented my love for Solas rarepairs.
Another rarepair I love is Solas x Iron Bull, and I got to explore that with King's Gambit — it's another pairing built around character studies of two liars, replete with a drake fight, philosophy talk surrounding Bull becoming Tal Vashoth, and also gay sex so yay!
Continuing on with rarepairs, as well as vignettes built around canon banter, I used actual lines from the game to make a case for a romance between Cassandra and Solas. My life is like the dust (that hides the glow of a rose) is smut free (I know, crazy right?) and chock full of romance, including candlelit evenings reading together, a dance among flowers, and poetry.
Finally, I just really love crafting atmosphere and writing introspection, and Solas in the Temple of Dirthamen is prime material for that. I wrote this little one shot, in our eternity, only darkness reigns, to explore Solas's thoughts while exploring the temple of the young Evanuris he locked away — maybe one he'd even considered his friend, seeing as how his statue guards the temple's entrance.
Thank you again for the chance to share. 💚 I'm really proud of these and they were fun to write.
8 notes
·
View notes
Happy Friday and welcome to DADWC! For your Lavellan/Solas, perhaaaaps: "A meticulously clean elven mosaic" from the Artifacts of Thedas!
i may have gotten carried away and spent the better part of 2 dadwc chipping away at this one, but in my defense my fridays are pretty full. it was a LOT of fun thinking about Viera, and her faith after everything. i def think it's getting a full write one of these days
@dadrunkwriting
Viera'vun / Solas
words: 1445
cw: discussion of character death
Solas had never seen Viera bow her head until now, nestled there within the rubble.
Their travels had led them deep into the embrace of a long forgotten forest, and to the clan whose camp spilled from the mouth of its nearly buried temple like water from a cracked vessel. Her absence that morning had been no surprise—the Herald often rose with the sun, and the promise of a hunt amongst her kith come dawn had nearly kept her from sleep the night before—however, when the hunters returned and she did not, he couldn’t hold himself from questioning.
No satisfying answers were forthcoming. “She is where she needs to be,” they told him, “leave her. An outsider wouldn’t understand.” It was truly impressive, how they handled the ‘flat-ear’ in their midsts with such tolerance. As morning bled into midday, however, and Viera was still nowhere to be found, he searched for the answers on his own, following the echo of her mark as it called to him from within the ruins.
And ruins they were, a shrine to the dead that was itself decaying. Dust danced in the light pouring in from above, seeping its way through what remained of the high ceiling to feed the blankets of moss that coated each and every stone. The Dalish residing there had not been negligent, however, and while much of the room had been consumed by time’s passage and nature’s reclamation, not all was lost. It gleamed as it caught the light, a mosaic spanning the back wall entirely, carefully cleaned and preserved. From within varying shades of restored tile towered a hooded figure, pointing into the distance with a crook in his elbow, an owl lifting to follow his outstretched hand. A countenance he recognized, if bitterly so.
It was at its feet he found her, still as those who were honored here. He’d nearly overlooked her amidst the mess, eyes passing over the crown of her head until she moved, bending further forward in her deference. At her lowest point she whispered a prayer, too quiet for him to hear, before lifting her eyes back to the altar and the offering she’d made there—old bones, carved and painted, nestled within bright purple flowers. That was when she noticed him, surprise flashing across her face as she turned towards him, before a smile overcame it.
“Ah,” she breathed, “you found me.” Her head tilted, questioning him with a blink. “Is something wrong?”
“Not to my knowledge, no,” he answered, clasping his hands behind his back before padding closer. “I only thought to search for you, when you hadn’t returned by midday.”
“I told the two I hunted with to mention where I’d gone. They didn’t, did they?” He bit his tongue to keep from saying anything hasty, though she read the answer easily enough across his face, sighing. “I might’ve figured. I only wanted to make an offering, but…I guess I lost track of the time.”
He studied her as she returned her eyes to the mosaic and her hands to her lap, the woman outlined in gold. For all the worries she carried he’d hardly seen her so relaxed as this, shoulders sloped and features soft. It was reminiscent of those rare moments they stole together, quiet and away from camp. “You don’t often speak of your faith.”
“I don’t often find that there’s much to say,” she answered, though his words hadn’t been a question. “Even as the Keeper’s kin, I wasn’t very diligent. Not compared to Ilo’s family, anyway. I prayed before and after the hunt, gave offerings when it was time to…I guess it was always just a personal thing, to me. Private.”
“Shall I take that as a hint?”
“Not at all, it wasn’t intended that way. In fact, I’d like it better if you stayed.”
She’d gotten bold with him since their jaunt in the Fade, possibly dangerously so. Still, despite his pause, he did oblige her. Picking a path through the debris he joined Viera at her side, there beneath a glimmering face shaped by hands he knew to be unwilling, ones that were long dead. Cleansed after millennia by those deluded into worship. Before his lip could curl his eyes flicked away, down and to the altar, to the flowers and the bone. It was there that his growing discomfort softened into something somber, something concerned, recognizing what it was she’d come here to do.
“...It is for the First?”
He didn’t look at her, but still he could feel her—the way she froze as if seen, exposed, before letting free her breath to fly. Her words caught at first, tripped by an unsteady heart, but she pushed through it. Often, he knew, she did. “It is. You recognize the offering?”
“The bones of an owl, the messenger between the Fade and the waking, carved with a prayer,” he said, “and the likeness as well. Falon’din.”
“Friend of the Dead.” She sighed through her nose, enough to push the petals atop the stone to tremor. “I never had the chance to make an offering for Rehn, after I buried him. I’m sure the clan did once they were a safe distance, but I…I never could. I was too busy running.” From the corner of his eye he saw a flicker of movement, of fingers swiping quickly the peak of her cheek. “I’m not running anymore. Even if his soul has long since passed on, I needed to do this. I have to move on.”
“If only it were so easy as that,” he muttered, and meant it. She didn’t dispute him. Gesturing with his chin, he carried on, pushing past the pang that asked questions of himself. “The flowers you’ve chosen, your purple phlox: I’ve not seen them used in this way. Have they a meaning for you?”
“I saw them while we were on the trail this morning, tucked at the edge of the treeline, like they were sitting in the shade. It reminded me of him, how he’d read scrolls while I climbed trees. He liked flowers, purple ones especially.” Her eyes roamed up the mosaic, flashing like its tiles as they climbed, a ripple stretching across her brow. “We’re taught that the Creators are trapped. After everything, I couldn’t see the point to it anymore—why pray to gods who can’t hear, let alone answer?—but then there were those damned flowers. I couldn’t get them out of my head all morning, it was like…like…” She shook her head as she searched for the words, growing still as she found them. “Like he was reaching for me across the Veil, one last time. ‘Keep climbing, Vie, I’m just below.’ Like somebody was, anyway.”
“You might be more correct than you believe,” he said, meeting her gaze as a question tilted her towards him. “I’m sure you’ve surmised that the Veil is thin, here in this long forgotten remnant of the past. For all my criticisms of the Dalish, your kith have treated this place with due reverence. It is not so hard to believe that which troubles you might have resonated with the denizens of this place—Love or Compassion, maybe, drawn by lost goodbyes or unresolved remorse, and beholden to those who restored their home. Enough, even, for their sympathies to reach across that barrier between worlds, to draw you to this place where you might know peace.”
“Or, perhaps,” she countered, softly, “my proximity to people like my own was simply enough to reawaken memories I’d believed buried. Maybe, flowers are merely flowers.”
“Of course, it is a possibility. The phlox specifically, however, gives me pause.” Running his hand along the rim of the altar, Solas gently lifted one of the blooms, tilting its lavender petals with the pad of his finger to face the starburst at its center towards him. “Across cultures spanning centuries it signified many things: the hope for unity and harmony, or deep bonds between friends and family. ‘We are alike’. There is another interpretation I prefer, myself.”
“Which is…?”
“‘Our souls are united’,” he answered, and let the flower fall back to the stone. “Nuarehn’s soul may have long since passed, but just as his memory lingers in the shade of the trees, I wonder, too, if he might linger within you.” Turning from the altar his hand clasped her shoulder, feeling as she breathed his words in. He squeezed, and let her go. “I will tell the others that you are safe. Take all the time you need, lethallan. We will be there for you, when it is done.”“I will,” she uttered, quiet. “Ma serannas, lethallin. Ma serannas.”
9 notes
·
View notes
Happy Friday x3 I'd love to see: I still remember how you taste for Dadwc, and maybe with m Lavellan/Solas if you are in the mood for it x3 Happy creating <3
Ohhhh yissss, I'm exactly in the mood for some Solavellan angst. Thanks for the prompt and happy Friday, Spicy! Here's my villain Inquisitor and Solas meeting in the Fade, the prompt is slightly modified.
Solas x M!Lavellan
Rating M for violent imagery and war
for @dadrunkwriting
-----
“Mahanon.”
The voice stops him dead in his tracks. What was he even watching? A few quick blinks and the surroundings blur, leaving one person sharp and colourful in a sea of now-monochrome crowd.
“Solas,” he breathes, and for once he can wrestle himself from the role of a spectator in his dreams. The frozen figures of his imagination implode into dust as he stalks through them, headed towards his love.
Soon they stand close enough to touch, but…
“It's been a long time, Solas,” Mahanon says, his fingers squeezing into a tight fist he pockets. Fighting the urge to hug Solas, or worse yet, kiss him.
A sad smile curls on Solas' lips. “You've been waiting for me?”
“Of course,” Mahanon scoffs, though it's not anger. Not really. “I've waited my whole life for someone like you, and then you just…”
He throws his hands in the air. Even here, under the waxy black sky, he can't say it.
“I still remember everything. Your touch. Your voice. Your taste.” Mahanon sighs, the oft-played memories flashing in his mind as he stares in Solas’ eyes. “How could you just… forget about me?”
Mahanon notes the way he takes a half step back, how his brows furrow.
With a flick of Solas’ hand, their surroundings shift from deep emptiness into a field of battle. Corpses lay on the ground, cries of desperation pierce the air. The stench of burning flesh closes in like claws, but Mahanon's attention shifts back to Solas.
“What?”
Solas blinks a couple of times, his mouth turning downwards. He shakes his head, looks up to Mahanon.
“Do you not see?” His hand draws an arc, gesturing at the burning field. “This is why I've had to forget about you. You and I, we do not stand for the same thing.”
Mahanon's hands flex at his sides. For once, he's silent, waiting for the inevitable blow.
“You do this,” he points at a phantom clutching a grievous wound, “because you enjoy it. You cut through—”
“I don't enjoy it!” Mahanon growls, teeth bared. “I have to! I have no choice!”
Solas stays silent for a moment, a finger rising to his lips. Then, quietly, “Then what is your end goal?”
Mahanon crosses his arms on his chest, closing his eyes. That's… a good question, one he's never quite found the answer to.
There's one thing he knows for sure. “I'm lost without you.”
“You were already lost when you were with me.” Solas’ jaw tightens, his posture stiffening. “There's nothing I can do for you.”
Everything fades to black without a warning, and when Mahanon's eyes open, it's to stare at a ceiling he knows all too well. His castle, quickly falling back to disrepair.
The fireplace is nothing but embers at this time of night, but he shelters by its fading warmth. Reports from the warfront already in his hands as he tries to shake the nightmare.
To think of it as anything else would be unacceptable.
13 notes
·
View notes
The whole crew's here 🏳️🌈
Just some boyfriends, some girlfriends, and a girlfriend supporting her partners 💕
Dust Lavellan belongs to @nerdlingwrites 🥰
9 notes
·
View notes
Welcome to Blue’s Blog
I’m an artist, fic writer, and admin at @thedasincolor and @dadrunkwriting, but science is my day job!
Mobile Nav:
My AO3: @ youworeblue
My Ko-Fi
#My Art
GIft Fics Received
Gift Art Received: #art for blue
I take writing prompts!
Information about Prompts
My prompt horde.
Prompts filled for @dadrunkwriting: #da drunk writing circle
Feel free to make fanart, podfics, and derivative works of mine, as long as a heads-up & credit is given. I always appreciate the creativity of this community <;3 (Full statement here.) (Banner credit.)
-:-:-
CURRENTLY PROMOTING:
Please check out my murder mystery fic!
it ends, or it doesn’t.
Rated T, 7 chapters, 45k. Complete. Felassan finds himself investigating a murder with a ragtag group of three outcast Dalish, uncovering an ancient ruin hidden in plain sight and the ugly secret trapped at its heart. Illustrated by Adurna-0! With additional commissioned art by sbeep and crunchyncrumbly.
-:-:-
Characters & AUs
Bloodied and Broken World State
Elvhenan AU
One Wild and Precious Life AU
Shadows in the Sun AU
The Mirrorverse Collaborative AU - OPEN!
Halevune Mahariel | Garrett Hawke | Inquisitor Ixchel Lavellan
Pronunciation: Ixchel.
-:-:-
Bloodied & Broken World State
Main Series (Ixchel's Story)
Full Collection
Rust & Bone (Halevune Mahariel and his family)
In-continuity tumblr drabbles: #bloodied and broken bits
Ship tags:
Solavellan: #broken mirrors
Mahariel x Morrigan & Kieran: #old blood older still
Platonic: #cage of the ribs
This is my Dragon Age series following Inquisitor Ixchel Lavellan and her battle to find hope for herself, and hope for Thedas.
Her story truly begins in Dead Pasts and Dread Futures--with her suicide. As the world ends, Ixchel is resurrected under mysterious circumstances and is sent back in time to the Conclave. Ixchel is furious, convinced of her own futility, and yet she cannot give up again.These are the stories of how she gets better. She’ll bring the world with her on that journey, which continues now in The Brave Guide.
TOO LONG, DIDN'T READ: Dead Pasts and Dread Futures Summary
Main Series Reading Order:
1.0 - Lead Her Through the Darkness - [BECandCall]:Oneshot. Complete.This is the story of how Ixchel found her name. BECandCall aka DuchessofSwoll wrote this gift for me during the Dragon Age Fanfiction discord server’s OC swap month.
1.1 - Two-Handed: INCOMPLETE. The story of Ixchel’s first life, as a teenage Inquisitor. Ixchel comes to the Conclave as an effort to win favor from Clan Lavellan. She does not have vallaslin, or any experience as a warrior--or any idea of how precious friends and family could be. This is not a Solavellan story.
1.2 - Ruined Empires and Dust: Drabbles from Ixchel’s young life. Angsty.
1.3 - The Vallaslin:Oneshot. Complete.Ixchel is finally offered the vallaslin of Dirthamen after proving to Keeper Hawen how dedicated she is to preserving Elven history. Solas cannot in good conscience let her take them. Not without a warning. (Follow-up post here.)
1.4 - The Hope of Fen’Harel: Oneshot. Complete. Ixchel’s Trespasser eluvian scene with Solas.
2.0 - Dead Pasts and Dread Futures. 170 chapters, 600k. Complete. Ixchel is in her mid-twenties when she ends her life, tired of being the Hope of Thedas and the Hope of Fen’Harel, and tired of being alone. As the world ends, she gets resurrected and sent back in time. She is very angry, and very depressed about it. Ixchel struggles. She finds hope.
3.0 - The Brave Guide. Longfic. ONGOING! Regular updates. A direct continuation of Dead Pasts and Dread Futures.
Hot Takes. Complete. Discarded draft. Smutty.
Dread Wolf and the Champion.Excerpt fic. Complete. The collection of only Solavellan moments of Ixchel and Solas in Dead Pasts, Dread Futures. In case you just wanted some Solavellan with (less) politics and interpersonal conflict.
Our Careless Heads with Roses Bound: Drabbles. Ongoing.Fluff Prompts for Bloodied & Broken characters set during both Dead Pasts and Dread Futures or The Brave Guide.
(3.1) Fade to Blue.Oneshot. Complete. An extended, stand-alone version of a smutty chapter in The Brave Guide. No other reading required. <3
(3.2) The Day the Dread Wolf Wed the Brave Guide - [exalted_dawn | @exalted-dawn-drabbles ]. Ongoing. My beautiful friend and dear Beta, Ed, decided to write how her OC Talenna convinced and orchestrated Ixchel to do a bonding ceremony with Solas, at the Arlathvhen, after Corypheus’s defeat. It’s beautiful and I adore it.
(3.3) the road seems too wild for mixing it with blues.Oneshot. Complete. Written as a gift for the Solavellan Hell Exchange 2022. Solas and Ixchel have a happy ending, visiting Cumberland as tourists--not as famed and feared leaders. Pure fluff.
(3.4) it ends, or it doesn’t. 7 chapters, 45k. Complete. Written for a terribly managed Big Bang, but one of my favorite fics ever. Felassan finds himself investigating a murder with a ragtag group of three outcast Dalish, uncovering an ancient ruin hidden in plain sight, and the ugly secret trapped at its heart. Illustrated by Adurna-0!
-:-:-
#Elvhenan AU
Ixchel gets sent back not to the Conclave but to Elvhenan, with a fragmented memory. This is not Solavellan but rather Dirthamen x Lavellan.
Currently this exists in prompts only, and:
Ship Tags:
Dirthamen x Lavellan: #sunbird
Ancient Elves and Ancient Spirits: #Glory and Valor and Pride and Wisdom
The Inexorable Tide - [kittynomsdeplume]. Oneshot. Ixchel appeared in Elvhenan in an explosion that leveled Falon’Din’s temple. Dirthamen takes her in, for she wears his vallaslin, and slowly teaches her the Elvhen language...and they fall in love. A BEAUTIFUL GIFT from the 2021 Beyond The Veil Discord Server Satinalia Exchange.
-:-:-
#One Wild and Precious Life
Solas and Inquisitor Ixchel Lavellan defeat Corypheus, heal the Veil, and thwart the Evanuris, but Solas falls into uthenera again. He wishes that now-immortal Ixchel would live a full life, and to her own surprise...she does. She falls in love with the widowed Prince of Starkhaven, and he with her.
This exists in drabbles and prompt fills only.
-:-:-
#Shadows in the Sun
My world state for DA4!
Ixchel Lavellan was 16 when she became Inquisitor, but rather than end her life as she does in Dead Pasts and Dread Futures, she chooses to live. Kieran enlists her help in searching for his mother, who drank the Well of Sorrows and now has disappeared. Eventually Kieran x Ixchel will happen.
This exists in drabbles and prompt fills only at the moment, but that will undoubtedly change.
-:-:-
The Mirrorverse Collaborative AU
The Dragon Age Fanfic Writers Discord Server anniversary (Aug 2021) generated a bunch of crossover-type gift fis and introduced the idea of a multiverse connected by eluvians. Thus, the Mirrorverse was born.
If anyone wants to play in this sandbox or read OCs interacting in each others’/an in-between reality, I have an open collection for fics that have any Dragon Age OCs crossing universes via mysterious eluvians! They’re fun to play with and people are making gifts for their friends or just having their own OCs interact, it’s great!
We love seeing this device, please use it and tag us/submit to the collection! This isn’t limited to friends-of-mine/members of any server. We just love this gimmick and would love more multiverse interactions out there. It’s such a fun way to play with OCs.
The Bar at the End of the Multiverse - [CrackingLamb]. Oneshot. Multiple Inquisitor Lavellans wander through mysterious eluvians and find themselves at a bar for some bonding time.
Walkers of the Lonely Path. Multichapter (5). Complete. A gift fic I wrote for six Lavellans and one Mahariel. It’s essentially a dungeon crawl, with lots of lore, angst, and elven bonding.
i want to share your mouthful - [RosellaWrites]. Oneshot. Virelan Lavellan post-Trespasser struggles to let go of the weight of her responsibilities as Inquisitor and mother. Ixchel helps with sparring, bathing, and some sex.
turning stones to look for light. Oneshot. Complete. A gift fic I wrote for Rosella-Writes, where Ixchel holds Virelan’s Solavellan baby and muses about whether Virelan’s version of Solas has any hope of redemption.
tell me if i drown - [Lalaen]. Oneshot. Gethrael Lavellan, reeling after a horrific experience in Wicked Eyes, Wicked Hearts, goes to the Bar at the End of the Multiverse and runs into Ixchel.
13 notes
·
View notes
burning water and bubbles (m.)
Solas x Female Lavellan Inquisitor
In which Solas asks for forgiveness.
Warnings: smut, solas being a tease, thats about it tbh
Gif is not mine
It’s odd to see her sitting sideways in the bathtub, head laid gently upon her arms along the edge. The music from creatures outside spreads across the room, wrapping around the walls and filling the space between them; eerily soft and slow, the nighttime nocturne meanders round and round enticing the dust in the air as it catches the fire light of the candles. He wants to apologize, admit he was wrong and bear the consequences of his mistake, but she’s unrelenting. A cold anger and an even colder love, she’s not going to be so easily swayed by the tender apologetic words her lover could soon come to muster. And he is not one so easily ensnared by the wicked games she plays with him.
“Are you really going to ignore me all night?” He tries his best to sound annoyed, to sound bothered by her cold shoulder, but he can’t, amusement tinges at the edge of his voice because he knows exactly how this game ends. How this game will end.
She makes no indication that she has even heard him speak, no sound or movement comes from inside the tub aside from the rolling of steam off the water and into the air.
“So you are holding to your word then, huh?” A grin bites at the edge of his lips that she cannot see, but she hears it in his words. She cannot see him but knows exactly how he looks right now, painting it in her mind’s eye. His arms are folded across his chest while he’s lazily propped against a door frame in her room, their room, within the stone walls of Skyhold, with a tilted grin on his face and a teasing look sparkling in dark eyes. She doesn’t need to see him to know he enjoys this. That he enjoys their games together.
She answers with a hum, electing to turn around in the tub ‘til she’s seated in it correctly, sinking within the water until she’s laid out, stretching her body until her ankles hook at the narrow edge in front of her and she is submerged to her shoulders.
She’s denied him the view of her now, so he pushes off the door frame, shutting the stained glass door behind him and walking forward until he’s in front of her. He easily catches her ankles in his hands as he gazes down at her, but she remains unmoving and seemingly relaxed, her eyes remain closed as if she’s far off in thought somewhere. Yet Solas knows her too well, knows that she is no master at ignoring him once he gets his hands on her. That she is quick to crumble beneath his gaze, so eager to please, that this is the only reason she has her eyes closed and her body is buried within layers of bubbles to block his view and hopefully his lingering hands.
She tries to flinch her legs away from him as he begins to rub delicate circles against her ankles, but he’s too quick, too strong, and his grip tightens tenfold around her. There’s a split second where she fears he may pull her legs until she’s dragged under the water as some form of childish punishment for her silent treatment and her eyes fly open at the thought while her hands shoot from beneath the water to brace on the side edges of the tub, but Solas makes no move to do so. He only loosens his grip, resuming his earlier task of rubbing her ankles. The corners of his eyes crinkle under his boyish grin as she glares up at him petulantly, deciding then to dip her hands back into the water before bringing one back up to flick water onto his face.
“If you want attention so badly, why not go find Varric? You know how he likes to talk.”
“Maybe I will.” He laughs, but he makes no indication that he is going to take his leave. That he will walk out of this room and go find the aforementioned, leaving her here alone in the burning water and bubbles of her bath.
“Then I certainly will not hold you here, Solas.” There’s a teasing glint to her words, she’s prodding him for a reaction, and it works. He hums an acknowledgement, nodding his head as he peers down at her contemplatively. She knows he will not leave, but what exactly he will do instead, she is still entirely unsure of. He loosens his grip on her ankles and his hands leave her for a split second as he begins to slowly make his way from the end of the tub in the middle of the room. His right hand finds purchase on her right leg, dragging leisurely and dipping beneath the water as he makes his way around until he’s kneeling next to her.
“How can I get your forgiveness, ma vhenan? What would you have me do?” He’s asking her jokingly, she knows this, but there’s something hidden behind his eyes that tinges with want; want for forgiveness, want for her.
“I don’t know. I guess you’ll have to figure it out yourself.” She chides, smirking, feigning innocence and ignorance of the answer to his question. And he hums back in turn, seemingly contemplating her words and his own actions from here on out, with raised brows. His right hand emerges from her thigh beneath the water, liquid dripping down and disturbing the bubbles.
He repeats her own action from earlier and lifts his hand to flick the residual water from his hand onto her face, before he lifts himself from his kneeling position beside the tub. He walks easily, barely a step away then forwards, he finds himself standing behind her and kneeling again. Behind the tub and her, his hands glide easily down her arms that lay perched on the side of the tub until they are rested over her own.
“You’re awful, you know that?” She grinds out behind closed eyes and gritted teeth, but there’s the hint of a laugh behind her words that she can’t hide, no matter how much self-control she thinks she has.
“Hmm, really? You must tell me all about it, my love.”
“You know,” she pauses, laughing slightly under her breath, “if you wish to have something around that you can tell what to do, perhaps we can get you a dog.”
“And if you wish for an apology, then I’m willing to give you one.” His breath grazes across the nape of her neck, his teeth nips at her ear and travels down to her pulse point to gently lay a kiss upon it before he begins, “I’m sorry.” Kiss. “I’m sorry.” Bite. “I’m sorry.” Kiss. And it goes on and on as he works his way down to her shoulders and back up again, until the little lavishes are painted upon both sides of her neck.
Not one to be distracted by the pursuit of his mouth upon her neck, Lavellan hums out in thought before furthering her teasing. “You know, if you think this will be enough to gain my forgiveness you are sorely mistaken.”
“Oh?” A feign of shock, “And if this was the only trick I had up my sleeve, then what?”
“Then I suppose you’d have to try harder.” She pauses but not a moment too long before gesturing vaguely to her desk across the room, “After all, you did ruin many important documents which, with the utmost urgency, required my signature to keep the Inquisition afloat.”
Solas knows that’s simply not true, any document possessing any value at all were signed in front of Josephine and immediately filed or sent accordingly, but he plays along regardless. Although, he has no real clue as to what he spilled ink all over earlier that morning when he’d swiped stray paper and quills off her desk as he hoisted her on top of the then cleared surface.
“The Inquisition will be alright for a few days while they are rewritten.”
One of Solas’ hands leaves it spot from on top of her own to return beneath the water's surface, grabbing at her thigh before slowly trailing down, closer and closer to-
“Oooh”
“Interesting.” He jokingly ponders as his fingers tease harsh circles on her clit. And her back arches in response, pressing further into his hand as her head falls back onto his shoulder, wetting his shirt with her damp hair.
“Sh-ut up.” There’s no malice, just her sighed out desperation, heated face, and the overwhelming focus she’d now put into the movement of his hand. She remains silent, or rather, tries to as whines bite at the edge of her labored breathing.
“You know what? You’re absolutely ravishing when you’re at a loss for words.”
“A-nd you annoy me.” She tries her hardest not to let the moan slip between her clenched teeth, unwilling to let him win, but it’s a short-lived victory she can’t possibly consider when two fingers move down to catch at her entrance and push in.
“Really? You don’t seem particularly annoyed with me right now.”
She gasps out, face twisting in mock anger and her hands grip tighter on the edge of the bath, “You’re not playing fair.” It’s breathless and warm and he can’t help but chuckle lightly at the obvious beginning of her fall to submission, as her breath quickens and her chest heaves causing the movement of water to slosh around his arm more.
Solas is humming out in reply, brows raising while he looks tauntingly down at her. “Is that so?” He asks as his hand continues to work inside of her.
“Mmhmm,” she takes a second to draw in a shaky breath, “Y-you can’t stand to lose, s-so you cheat.”
And Solas nods contemplatively behind her, “I can stop then. It would be terribly dreadful to your new predicament but if you are so adamant that I am being unfair…” So he does, removing his hand from between her legs and beneath the water's surface, back up into the warm air of the room.
“W-ait. N-no… That’s not what I meant.” She stutters out.
“Then what did you mean, Inquisitor? And please be sure to be detailed, we wouldn’t want anything else misconstrued, now would we?”
“What have I told you about calling me that when we-“ And her complaint is dead in the water as his hand descends on her breast, catching a nipple between his fingers and twisting lightly.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” He pauses for half of a second before adding teasingly, “Inquisitor.”
“Y-you’re playing a dangerous game right now Solas.”
“Perhaps.” Truly Solas assumed nothing of her half-hearted threat. What could she possibly do to him?
98 notes
·
View notes
To Build an End
(Cullen/Emmaera Lavellan | 1,524 Words | No warnings)
It was finally over.
When they left behind the ruins of the temple, they were not precisely where they’d been when they’d left the others behind. Varric had climbed from the dust and broken rock with her, both of them leaning unsteadily on each other until they could find Dorian and Cassandra. She ached to her bones, from the tips of her pointed ears to the blistered toes tucked into her boots. Her hair had come loose at a critical moment in that last push toward Corypheus, she’d lost a glove somewhere in the sky, and she had watched her friend vanish into the mountains.
All was not well—all would not be well for quite some time. Regardless, it was over.
“Send a raven,” she told Lace when they found her missing scouts at last, limping close enough that the croak of her voice could be heard. There was a half-collapsed wall to her left and she leaned hard enough against it that she worried she would send the second half of it toppling into the abyss.
“Already sent, Inquisitor,” Lace said. She cleared her throat and saluted, her eyes shining with the last of the Rift’s magic. “He’s really dead, huh?”
“Dead as I could make him,” Lavellan said. She thought of Hawke, of her assurances that Corypheus had been killed before.
Would they see their enemy again? Would he find some other doorway, some other crack to slip through into their world? She could not know. She did not know what happened to a body when it was scattered through reality and unreality at once. Perhaps she had merely fragmented him into several wholes and he would return to them as a legion of Coryphei. Perhaps he was simply and entirely dead.
Lavellan didn’t know that, either. She knew only that she wanted badly to be held, to be clean, and to sleep, not necessarily in that order.
But first: the mountain.
“Is everyone well enough to ride?” she called, her voice cracking in the middle of “enough.”
Cassandra, who had carried the unconscious witch from the ruins, made a displeased sound somewhere behind them.
“Except for Morrigan,” Emmaera amended, and squeezed her eyes shut when another pang gripped her leg. She would drink a potion in the saddle and that would fix it enough, but—they could not wait. Their people needed to see them well, and soon. She did not want another search party scouring the mountains for her body. The memory of the snow, of the cold after Haven’s fall echoed in her thoughts now.
No. No, they needed to go now.
“I suppose we’ll make it if we’re in some sort of hurry,” Dorian puffed, pressing both palms to his knees. “I suppose I rather agree that I wouldn’t prefer to hang around here at this particular moment.”
“Good,” Lavellan said, tucking her errant hair back behind her ear. She thought of the path up the mountain, of the ones waiting for her there.
She thought of Cullen, who would surely be beside himself while they waited. When she came to him, his hair would gleam gold in the torchlight and he would smile at her and—and she needed to see him now.
“Quickly then,” she went on, whistling for her hart. “Up the mountain to Skyhold—to home.”
|
It was finally over.
Over a year of pain and devastation, personal losses and private triumphs, and it was over at last. Corypheus was dead. The Breach—Cullen had checked it so many times he’d lost count—was gone, too. The rest would be a logistical nightmare; they might have united disparate groups for the sake of this battle, but the unrest that had been seeded in these past months would not be quelled when the sky was sealed shut again. There were still rifts out there, still people who needed the Inquisition’s help, but—
It was done.
Even now, as the crowd of the Inquisition’s allies and soldiers waited with eyes on the gate, there was an air of celebration below. Someone had rolled a barrel of mead into the courtyard from the Herald’s Rest and tapped it. Mugs had passed from hand to hand, but the advisors had all abstained out of duty and decorum. Cullen thought Josephine might have benefited from a stiff drink; it was surely not visible from below, but she’d worried her quill to bits with nervous fingers. He could relate. It all felt too easy to be safe. They had thought themselves victorious before, hadn’t they? Haven yet lay half-buried under snow for his follies.
If he had a choice, he would be pacing the gates below and waiting for her—for their return. Leliana’s messengers had been clear: the ruins had fallen, but the Inquisitor had climbed safely from the wreckage. She lived, she walked under her own power, and now he had only to wait.
Cullen knew patience very well; he had learned it at the end of a blade and without countless repetitions. If necessary, he could call upon a dozen verses of the Chant to still his itchy fingers, his anxious feet. Maker willing, he would not need them. Maker willing, she would climb the hill and step through the gate any moment now. Any moment—
“Peace, Commander,” Leliana murmured. Cullen, who’d been tapping the hilt of his sword with increasing vigor, stilled his fingers.
“She is near,” Leliana went on. She looked so impassive, only the faintest hint of a smile tucked into the corner of her mouth. “Only a few moments more.”
“Truly?”Josephine asked, scribbling furiously. “Maker have mercy; I do not know if the catering will be ready. And the decor—”
“It will be fine, Josie,” Leliana murmured, stepping closer to her friend and resting a hand on the ambassador’s shoulder. “You’ll see.”
“Are you certain that—” Cullen began in an undertone, but Leliana was already shaking her head.
“Have you come to doubt me after so long, Commander?” she said, but she was still smiling. That was a good sign. He knew better than to anger their spymaster.
Cullen gestured sharply, shaking his head.
“Of course not! I only—”
The sound of horns cut off the end of the sentence, which was fortunate. Leliana knew precisely what he and Lavellan were to each other, but they had not acknowledged it publicly yet. It was a sign, perhaps, of how unsteady he felt that he hadn’t even considered less telling words. I only wish to see her again, to hold her safe—a sentiment that he felt keenly, but need not explain to Leliana. Neither Leliana nor anyone else here needed to hear such things. The only one who really needed to know was—
The Inquisitor strode into the courtyard below and their people erupted into cheers. Her armor was badly singed, but the burns showed worst in her hair. Her neat braids were gone. Instead, her hair fell in thick waves to her waist on the left. On the right, where her armor was most badly singed, it ended abruptly just above her elbow. Soot smudged her face and her gait was uneven. Her friends followed in her wake, each acknowledging the crowd in their way, but he did not look at them. His attention was entirely for her, assessing what little he could see from atop the stairs.
It was useless. Cullen was too far to discern much more. He had to hold still instead, had to present the correct face for their people, but—was she hurt? Was she hiding some injury beneath the burn marks and the armor? What had killing Corypheus cost her beyond what he could see? Cullen knew all too well the cost of a fight, the toll it took on one’s mind. It was not something he wished her to understand as he did.
This war had already cost her so much; what more had she lost this evening?
When she rounded the stairs at last, Emmaera’s eyes found him first. Cullen needed little more assurance than that: she met his eyes, green to gold, and smiled.
Well. Well, then.
Cullen held his composure long enough to bow for her as the other advisors did, but then he had little choice but to let go. What did it matter if everyone here knew that he loved her? What did it matter if they saw how she opened her arms to him, how she tucked her face into his neck, how he returned the gesture without question or hesitation?
“I am well,” she told him, half-laughing. The crowd roared even louder beneath them, but he could hear her clearly nevertheless. “All is well, Cullen. Creators, but I am glad to see you.”
“And I you,” he told her, careful not to hold too tightly even though he was loath to let go. When he’d embraced her, he’d tucked his nose just beneath her ear. Hidden under the smell of metal and blood and char, he caught the faintest hint of the oil she used in her hair.
Lavender—sweet lavender and his love, safe and returned to him despite all the odds.
And—it was finally, finally over.
43 notes
·
View notes
Companions as the MC recap
So over my twitch (twitch.tv/ADLegend21) I did a Dragon Age series where I played a world state where companions were the main characters of the various games. I didn’t want and overlap where said companion was in the same game or was elsewhere in a game so no DAO companions were eligible to be Hawke since Hawke leaves lothering in DAO which also meant that no DA2 companions could be the HOF since the games overlapped.
I went with the roster of Blackwall/Thom Rainer as the Hero of Ferelden, Vivienne De Fer as Hawke, and Zevran “Lavellan” Aranai as the Inquisitor.
Warden Rainier
For the headcanon, Rainier fled to Ferelden since that’s where Blackwall took him to join him and he was in Highever when the Couslands were attacked. Howe did manage to get the family, but Rainier met up with Duncan who continued what Blackwall wanted and brought Thom to the joining, while Thom was set on avenging the Couslands because they showed him a kindness when he deserved none. He survived and recruited Morrigan and Leliana after leaving Ostagar with Alistair. Rainier is big on peaceful conflict resolution and redemption because of his backstory. He’s been on the bad side of politics twice now with his own mistake and seeing the Cousland’s fall to Howe in a similar way to the Caliers. This lets him recruit Sten in Lothering so he can offer the Qunari the redemption that he himself is also after. When finding out news in Denerim he stumbles upon Genetivi and pursues the Urn of Sacred ashes first and a clash with Sten. The two come to respect the others abilities and they rescue Genetivi and obtain some of the ashes as a reward for protecting them from the Cult.
Zevran is also recruited as a means to gain the upperhand on Loghain and a way to watch out for more Crows. Shale is also recruited and Morrigan starts to complain about her tent being “cold”
Rainier then goes to recruit the Mages since their near Redcliffe and having mages will give more help in recruiting the Arl, only for Broken circle to happen. At first he goes in with some intent to help the annulment, but Wynne convinces him to rescue as many mages as possible and they are succesful. The fade is actually a walk in the park for Rainier because of his combat focus. He and his companions defeat Sloth and gain the Litany which helps recue Irving and the other mages. Cullen isn’t regarded for his opinion on the mages.
With the Mages and the Ashes, Redcliffe is a cake walk. Rainier defends the town from the undead onslaught and with the Mages, Wynne is able to defeat the Demon possessing Connor and with the Ashes in hand, Eamon is healed.
While Eamon recovers, the Dalish are found and their conflict with the werewolves really plucks at Rainier’s heartstrings. His desire for peaceful conflict resolution rally comes through and he manages to get Zathrian to end the curse.
When it comes time for Orzammar, Rainier initially is against Bhelen because of the news from Harrowmont of Bhelen’s coup against his siblings. Harrowmont wants to keep Orzammar’s traditions intact and not let Bhelen run roughshod. That all changes when he meets Zerlina in dust town. Seeing a mother and child left to scraps all because of the caste system hits the same nerve that his story about the Dog does. An infant being left to die when there’s something he can do about it spurs him to eventually side with Bhelen because of his feelings on the casteless He defeats Branka and gives Shale the backstory she needs to find herself and also brings Oghren along, unfortunately. Bhelen is crowned King of Orzammar and he promises his army and the Legion of the dead.
Morrigan and Rainier become official official after he gives her Flemeth’s Grimoire and she gives him a ring to find him. They had found love in the middle of what felt like the End of the World. Those poor Fools.
The Landsmeet saw a rout of Loghain politically. Rainier avenged the Couslands with intent, killing Howe after declaring his mission to do so as complete. The Landsmeet ruled in favor of Rainier and he defeated Loghain in the duel.
However, he agreed with Riordan that Loghain should be submitted to the Joiining. Alistair hated that. It became the dealbreaker for him and he forsook ruling with Anora to see Loghain killed, but left with his life instead as Rainier refused to allow Anora to execute Alistair instead. Loghain survived and became a Grey Warden.
Morrigan and Rainier made love on the even of battle and completed the dark ritual as a byproduct. Together they slew the Archdemon and parted for a time.
Rainier enjoyed his time as Warden Commander of Fereldan. Building the wardens back to the respectable force they were and was able to protect both Amaranthine, and Vigils keep. He ultimately vanished as he began to search for a cure for the calling the Architect.
Vivienne Hawke
For the Headcanon, Vivienne was a friend of Malcolm’s while they were both in circles and she receives a letter from him after he arrives in Lothering when Bethany is born (no older Hawke sibling, the twins are born ‘first’) She comes to Lothering to help get Bethany some training when the Darkspawn win at Ostagar. She flees with the family, though Bethany perishes when the Ogre attacks them. Vivienne sticks with the family to help Flemeth in exchange for passage to Kirkwall and becomes a Hawke in Lieu of returning to the Circle after she hears that it’s thought that she perished in the Blight.
Vivienne contemplates joining the circle at the Gallows, after all she was first Enchanter, but after meeting Anders and seeing what was done to Karl, she resigns herself to remaining an apostate because she knows her time away from the circle would cause Meredith to use the brand on her and that is unacceptable. She has no issues controlling her power and she’s invested in returning the Amell estate to the Hawke family and Leandra even offers her a place in it.
Despite her own feelings toward Meredith, she does encourage other apostates to return to the circle. Their fates are closely watched by Vivienne, especially when she leaves Carver off the expedition team to take care of Leandra and he joins the Templar Order.
A few years into living in Kirkwall she helps Sebastian Vael avenge his family and they become as close as a dashing rogue and a mage can be. She does her best to help mediate the situation between the Qunari and the Viscount, evening earning the title of Basilt-An from the Arishok until he attacks the city.
Vivienne can no longer hide her magic once the rest of the nobles in the city see her face the Arishok in single combat and come out victorious after Isabela returns to Kirkwall. when Meredith learns of this, they stand in unison to anoint Vivienne as the Champion of Kirkwall, thus making her untouchable to Meredith without a Viscount.
Vivienne still plays it safe when dealing with matters of magic. She doesn’t abide by blood mages and tries to keep people from turning to it at any cost, especially after Leader was murdered by Quentin. She is duped by Anders because she wanted to help him seperate from Justice but despite her willingness to aid the templars, she stands firmly against Meredith when she calls for the rite of Annulment when Anders, a Grey Warden, destroys the Chantry. She immediately comes to the aide of the circle in it’s hour of need and is ‘betrayed’ by Orsino (Varric lies to protect him and says Vivienne killed him) and she slays Meredith at the Gallows
Because of her connection to the Hawke family, the Carta mistakes her for a blood Hawke and she and Carver eventually uncover Corypheus and kill him the first time which then sends her on the run and out of Cassandra’s clutches.
Zevran “Lavellan” Aranai
After eliminating most of the Antivan Crows, Zevran takes up with a Dalish clan in the free marches in between DA2 and Inquisition. For the headcanon he helps protect Clan Lavellan from bandits and they offer him a place in the clan. When they hear of the Mage Rebellion and the conclave, they send him to investigate since he has knowledge of the situation and of human cultures so he can fit right in. This leads him to Corypheus’ ritual and gaining the anchor in the explosion.
For the headcanon, Leliana recognizes him which prevents Cassandra from killing him and she vouches for him which allows them to close the rift partially and work the with Inquisition.
He immediately hits it off with Josephine as she works to clear his name of killing the Divine with magic since he is no mage.
A funny thing happens after Val Royeaux.
Zevran finds his old friend Thom Rainier in the Hinterlands under the name of a different Warden and runs into the Champion of Kirkwall at an Orlesian Ball. In the headcanon Rainier is working with Avernus on the cure and stayed in Ferelden with the Drydens and Vivienne returned to court under her previous name claiming to have stayed with the Avaar to help them fight the Blight. Cassandra was almost none the wiser until Varric needed Vivienne to talk about Corypheus. Leliana was also overjoyed that her friend was still alive.
Zevran chooses to side with the Mage rebellion, having rebelled against an institution himself he can sympathize with their blight and doesn’t want to leave them in servitude to a Magister like Alexius. He gives them their freedom because he’s seen what mages can do when they work for a common cause.
He happily accepts the position of Inquisitor and works with Leliana to understand The Game to make sure Corypheus can’t overthrow Orlais for the moment. Halamshiral’s wintersend ball ends with a public truce between Gaspard Briala and Celene and Florianne as the Jester at Skyhold.
Vivienne and Loghain team up to track the Wardens to Adamant Fortress and there Loghain finally receives the death Alistair wanted for him all along, but this time it is to slay an enemy of the Wardens in the Nightmare.
Zevran took a liking to the Dalish Culture, finally seeing the things his mother believed in and felt a kinship to it, so when he learns about the Temple of Mythal and the well fo Sorrows, he takes it for himself after following the rituals, unlike the Red Templars and Samson. He partly does this to needle Morrigan and he boasts about it to her until they meet Mythal who happens to be Morrigans mother.
Zeveran also falls head over heels for Josephine a woman who feels like home to him because of their Antivan heritage and because she’s just plain wonderful to be around. Leliana is of course very protective of her friends and in the headcanon warns them both, but they just laugh and tease her for caring about them, lovingly of course. After Corypheus is defeated Zevran meets the previous Inquisitor in the Frostback mountains and it gets in his head that the world has taken much from him in both the fifth blight and the fight against Corypheus. He doesn’t know ho much longer he can stay in the spotlight and be the hero.
When Leliana calls the exalted Council two years after becoming Divine, Zevran and his mark dutifully step up to stop the Qunari invasion and after losing this left hand to Solas, he disbands the Inquisition as it is finally time for him to just live.
Conclusion
All in all this was an interesting Run. I was surprised that characters got along when I didn’t expect them to. Vivienne was maxed friendship with both Merrill and Anders somehow despite their opinions on Circles and Magic. I was surprised that Blackwall and Morrigan both ended up together, but knowing how he is in Romance made it all fit for them. Zevran and Sera got along great despite him being Elfy and of course he got along with the companion versions of the MC’s he knew. He obviously would want Leliana as Divine since they were friends and his appreciation for Dalish culture ends up having him be the vessel for the well of Sorrows. I might end up doing this kind of series again with different characters just to see how things pan out. IF you read this far, Thanks! Also gimme a follow over on twitch for more fun streams!
21 notes
·
View notes
AO3 Meme
I was tagged by @fereldanwench, thank you!
Rules: Give us the links to your wonderful words with the Most hits, Most kudos, Most comments, Most bookmarks, Most words, and Least words.
🥇 Most Hits/Kudos:
The Fall
Cremisius "Krem" Aclassi x Female Lavellan (Dragon Age: Inquisition)
Madera Lavellan tries to find a way to apologize to Krem for breaking his nose, only she finds herself in a uncertain situation with the Chargers' lieutenant.
A fic I wrote for a friend years back. Still one of my most loved fics, by both myself and readers. It ended up being both most kudos (161) and hits (2500).
🥇 Most Comments:
Yours
James Vega x Jeff "Joker" Moreau (Mass Effect)
What's in a name?
The hell if Joker knows, but it's important to James Vega to give him a nickname, no matter how much he wishes it wasn't. And if someone asked him if he cared about what the nickname ended up being, he would deny it with his last breath.
No amount of denial can change the truth. He secretly loves the attention.
A fic I wrote for SpecReqs. I've never written this pairing before and had so much fun with. This has the most comments with 15!
🥇 Most Bookmarks:
Dust in the Wind
Female Shepard & Jeff "Joker" Moreau (Mass Effect)
Jeff Moreau has always fought twice as hard to gain the same amount of respect as his fellow officers. He didn't expect to have that in common with a biotic with a famous last name.
-or-
The time that Joker befriended the future first Human Spectre.
This story has the most bookmarks out of my entire writing collection at 15!
🥇 Most Words:
Dust in the Wind is the winner of this one with 32k words (so far). I have two chapters left here!
🥇 Least Words:
Twilight
James Vega x Steve Cortez (Mass Effect)
James Vega says goodbye to more than just his Commander. He says goodbye to a friend.
This has the least amount of words at about 250.
Tagging: @aroserinosman, @aceghosts, @korblez, @sparatus, @teamdilf, @eluvisen and @starknstarwars
10 notes
·
View notes
Fic Recs
Hi! I finally updated my fanfic recommendation page on my blog (which you can view here)! This will be updated regularly, but I will copy and paste it as is so you can take a look at what I'm reading!
Here are a list of the fanfictions that I have either read or are currently reading and think that should get more attention!
“Not Another Dragon Age Fanfic (The Lone Wolf Cries)” by dork_trash94
Kieran finds himself suddenly transported to Thedas, and vows to keep a close eye on the Dread Wolf to stop him from betraying them once again.
As he finds out, a ‘close eye’ unfortunately means actually being close - and it doesn’t help that the game’s timeline is changing, either.
Lots of pining, sprinkle of yearning, some funky Time-bending, and a frequently flustered Solas.
(via @fenharel-apologist94 on tumblr)
They’ve also just released the first chapter of their newest fanfic!
“Tea Leaves and Sweet Dreams” by dork_trash94
Kieran was not prepared to meet Solas - the infamous and reclusive TA for Professor Flemeth’s Magic Theory and Application class - in person, in his tea shop. Much less the same academic program.
I am currently in the midst of reading this next fanfic but I positively adore the author’s use of language! Dwarves are not usually my favorite fantasy culture but I have so grown to love the Aeducan and Brosca storytelling here. It is the first part of a four part series so we are all in for a treat!
“Of Diamonds and Dust” by @dragonologist-phd
Marja Aeducan and Darvis Brosca lead lives as different as one could possibly imagine. Marja Aeducan, a member of the nobility and second in line for the throne, has spent her life maneuvering the dangerous political machinations of the Diamond Quarter. Meanwhile, Darvis Brosca, a Casteless dwarf rejected by society, does whatever it takes to survive on the streets of Dust Town.
When a Grey Warden arrives in Orzammar, the lives of Marja and Darvis are forever changed. Driven from the city by misfortune and betrayal, the two must join the ranks of the Wardens in order to save their own lives. But the surface has far greater dangers than they realize. The noble and the thief will need to stand together if they’re going to fight against the oncoming Blight, the brewing civil war, and the strange surface malady called “sunburn”.
Also, the contemporary fic to read alongside it:
“And So They Burned”
I have been reading “South” for over a year now and I need it to get widespread to a wider audience. His use of imagery and their idea of Tolkien’s world is so refreshing. They also have a lot of other LoTR fanfics that you should check out, too!
“South” by oxbridge
The Grey Company rides south: Through Eregion, Dunland, and beyond.
Other fics that I’m currently reading and think should be shared!
“Dead Pasts and Dread Futures” by youworeblue
The Inquisitor’s heart broke after the Exalted Council when her family of friends scattered to the winds. She was emptied of hope as Solas’s power and reach grew. Left with a dead past and dreading the future, Ixchel Lavellan lay down and chose not to wake up.
As the Veil began to unravel, and the fabric of reality tore apart at the seams, a desperate ally sacrificed everything to give her a second chance.
And Ixchel will never forgive him.
(via @dreadfutures on tumblr)
“Keepers” by AkbalKiin
A necromage in the plains causes a stir to the local folk. The Inquisition investigates and recruits an elf, a former Keeper, into their rank for his knowledge on Dalish archaeology and his stealth abilities. The Inquisition tests his skills as they close in on Red Templars as part of a plan to thwart Samson and Corypheus.
(via @nightmarist on tumblr)
“Une Autre Histoire D'amour” (series) by fondofthehowes
Exploring the relationship between Étienne Montmartre, an Orlesian warden better suited to be a bard, and Cassandra Pentaghast. For a woman that long pined for the concept of a man that would sweep her off her feet, she never anticipated that she would not only find it, but that he would be far more than that too.
“Would That I (O Unrepentant, Faithless, Treacherous)” by @thiefbird
Saved from Alistair’s vengeance to presumably die to the Archdemon, Loghain Mac Tir is at a loss to find himself alive after the end of the Blight.
12 notes
·
View notes