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Countdown to DAtV, day 12!

A lil two page comic I did back in the day about fighting together in the Arbor Wilds. Since there was no way to interact in game, I did a little something for that moment ^_^

f you want to join in on the Countdown hashtag, share a DA creation of yours that you've been wanting to repost! Let's share our old creations to get hyped for the new game!

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Tipsy talk - pt 3 (fin)

There we go. Let's see how Daphne will play this out!

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Just posting hole while we wait for patch 8 🤣

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(prompt 6 of febuwhump 2025, of which i'm already late to - forced to stay awake)

Sleep Can Wait, But Not This Dance — Cullavellan

read on AO3

summary: Lavellan’s had the worst night—covered in blood, running on zero sleep, and surrounded by Orlesians who won’t stop staring. Cullen finds her on a balcony, ready to offer an escape, but she has one request first: a dance. She’s too tired to stand on her own, but that’s fine—he’s more than happy to hold her up. word count: 1k

Lavellan has had a long night.

Lavellan has had a long night and she hates just about everyone in Halamshiral. Especially the humans, who continue to stare at her with stone in their eyes, as if stone and barbed contempt could be curious behind their golden masks. Despite the satin gown she wore once again and the careful efforts of a visibly annoyed Dorian several minutes prior, the scent of blood and ichor is still all around Lavellan. 

At least, she thinks it is. Lavellan cannot remember the last time she slept more than an hour or two at a time, and she swears some of the blood still lingers directly beneath her skin. Can the Orlesians see the stains she wore, curdling beneath the sun-browned skin and the deep, burgundy satin clinging to it like another layer? Can the Orlesians spot the evidence of Florienne’s treachery still painted upon her like a second vallaslin? Will the Orlesians even care if they do? Or will they simply smile and offer wine-scented compliments on her prowess as Inquisitor?

Celene and her pretty words and all of the very pretty guests are a blur as Lavellan shuffles out onto one of the many and very pretty verandas outside, where the air does not smell of violence and gore but of roses, lilacs, and gardenias—flowers that should not be in bloom at this time of year but no doubt have been magically tampwered with to keep Halamshiral from being anything other than beautiful. And it is beautiful. And maybe it is the sleep deprivation or her stomach screaming out that is not field rations, but Lavellan is fairly certain she can see her clan’s aravel in the near distance, across a snowy stretch of grass. But how can that be?

“Dorian told me you were thinking about jumping.”

No. That is definitely not the voice of her Keeper. But it is the voice of someone who is as equally wonderful—and perhaps, at this current moment, just a bit more welcome.

A tired but warm grin sleepily stretches across Lavellan’s face as she turns to see Cullen approach from the ornate double doorway. Vivienne had insisted on dressing the Inquisitor and her advisors personally, and Lavellan had seen the wisdom of that insistence the second Cullen had emerged from his office. The matching burgundy tunic and gold sash only served to accentuate his eyes and hair, while a tight cumberbund highlighted his powerful waist. 

Which looks incredibly sturdy right now.

Even fatigued, Lavellan easily identifies the soft emotion brimming in his gaze as concern. “Please tell me that is not the case,” he chuckles, though the noise doesn’t sound anything other than nervous.   

Lavellan extends a hand in his direction, humming contentedly when he pulls her to his chest. “Of course not,” she replies, the words coming all too slowly. “I did not survive an entire night of Orlesian nobles just to leap to my death now. At any rate, you know how your reactions amuse him so.”

“Ah, I see,” Cullen says. One brow quirks high upon his smooth forehead. “So, then it’s my fault that I was worried?”

The resentment in his tone makes her snort. “If you say so.”

“Hmm. Well, I wanted to see how the woman I love was fairing in this Maker-forsaken excuse for a nation, but if it would amuse you and Dorian for me to leave…”

She instinctively tightens her arms around his waist. “Don’t you dare,” she growls. “If you leave, nothing will keep me from falling to the ground.”

Cullen rears back at this, frowning. “Do you need to leave? We can make a quick escape now… perhaps send Andraste herself as an apology gift? Do you think that would be enough?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

“Mmmm,” Lavellan sighed. “I hate them all.”

Cullen’s chest rumbles with laughter, shifting against Lavellan’s freckled cheek. “Me too. I originally came out here to see if you would dance with me, but it seems as if neither of us are in the mood for one—”

Now it was Lavellan who is rearing back, her long, braided hair glimmering in the moonlight like a perfect veil of white. “You can’t!” she exclaims. “I have wanted to dance with you all night, and then I was forced to dance with Florienne before she tried to kill me, and now you want to rescind the offer?”

“Darling,” he huffs, smirking. “You can barely stand on your own two feet. When was the last time you slept?”

“Doesn’t matter. You know what matters? Dancing with you.” Cullen’s gaze softens then, and Lavellan knows she’s won.

“Fine.” Taking one step away, Cullen bends at the waist, his golden hair calcined into silver. “Would you do me the honor of a dance? Or two?”

Even if she was not tired and Vivienne had not personally dressed him, Lavellan thinks the resplendent grin on Cullen’s face will still do the trick. She answers his grin with her own before wrapping both arms around his chest. “You may,” she says, her voice low and shy. “But this is as high as my arms can go until I do get that night of sleep.”

“That is honor enough.” He proceeds to press one hand to the small of her back, while the other comes to rest behind her head, each finger weaving into her curls. Then, they began to sway,. foregoing all footwork in exchange for a slow side-to-side pattern.

And although it is not the Orlesian way to dance, Lavellan thinks it is the best dance she has ever had in her life.

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Man and his best friend.

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He prays to Andraste before he goes to war.

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I hate this man. I hate him so much, like, look at him? That damning smirk, like he knows what he's doing. He knows his effect. God dammit

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Cullen is really hard to draw like omg

One week to go!!!!

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It’s always like that, even after Corypheus is defeated

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Medea survived the mountains after the destruction of Haven out of pure spite. The main motivator for her to get up, to keep moving despite the cold, the ache, the pain was just a certain blonde's grating voice in her head. She could hear his voice growling at her to get up and keep walking. It kept her sane, just cussing him out every time she imagined him glowering at her.

'Get up, Lavellan'

'Getting weak, Lavellan?'

"FUCK YOU RUTHERFORD!!"

When they found Medea through the snowstorm, Cullen had her in his arms, and he was berating her.

"You are a Maker damned fool, Lavellan"

"I know"

"What would have happened if you didn't survive?"

"I know"

"Reckless, idiotic, NUG HEADED ASS"

"I know!"

And the thing is, Cullen isn't trying to be mean per say. Yes, he was FURIOUS with Medea, but he was actually trying to keep her awake. She felt cold in his arms, and he knew that he had to do anything, anything to keep her from closing her eyes.

If that means insulting the woman whom he respected the most? So be it.

Additionally, Medea had been missing for weeks in the mountains. Everyone, except some of the Inner Circle and Cullen, thought she was dead. Cullen knew she wasn't because she just is too stubborn to let a bit of snow stop her from trying to piss him off for fun.

Still, to know she was safe and alive? He allowed himself a small sigh of relief when she was placed in the medical tent.

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this exchange will always be funny to me.

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Hozier performs Bridge Over Troubled Water

❝ Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down ❞

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So many members of the Veilguard are so sleepy, you guys. They are so tired. And it doesn’t matter how heroic/traumatized you are. Eventually you will sleep.

Sometimes you fall asleep really hard in the wrong places.

It starts when they find Davrin passed out in his armchair with Assan on top of him (he didn’t want to move and disturb his feathery baby!)

Harding playfully puts a little wooden griffon on his lap: “Haha, now he’s being squished by 2 griffons”

Lucanis: “he’s a warden. He can do hold more than that”

That incident ends with almost the entire wooden menagerie atop him, before Assan gets bored and upsets the whole thing.

One day they find Bellara and see how many blankets and pillows they can give the poor girl instead of the pile of gears she was passed out on.

Now its a game. Even the wisps join in. Taash goes in to consult Neve, and she’s passed out at her desk and and the wisps are covering her in case notes and knickknacks.

Beds (and what counts for beds) are out of bounds, but everywhere else is free game.

There are 0 points for Rook. Rooks falls asleep everywhere and anywhere at the drop of a hat.

Lucanis is 100 points because he’s hard to catch, and Spite could awaken at anytime and send them all screaming when his violet eyes pop open.

It finally escalates (and ends) when Emmrich shoots awake on the green library sofa to find piles of precious books forming a rough throne on his chest with Manfred seated in it.

Everything falls and everyone runs because he is Not Pleased.

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I don’t care about anything other than you being alive

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dragon age twitter au? dragon age twitter au. INQUISITOR + FRIENDS EDITION