#Movran the under

[108garys]

Avvar Rook?

So Movran the Under's whole clan can pick up and relocate to the silent plains at least a decade ago? All of them, kids and all? And they can actually do pretty well in their new territory? And by the time of veilgaurd children would be grown, youths just starting out would be seasoned and all would have a solid chance to hypothetically interact with northern thedas cultures? don't ruin this for me bioware

Ignore the rush job and see the vision I was suddenly struck with(I know the locations aren't 100% accurate)

Obviously a warden could be conscripted/recruited anywhere but I do feel like taking advantage of Edvarr hold being relocated opens the path for a lot of interesting potential role playing/characterization for Rooks of any age, here's hoping that height and voice pitch slider is all they're selling it as and perhaps a tendency towards more blunt dialogue choices would help but I do feel a person could find creative reasons why someone from Movran's clan would end up in any of the available factions

I don't usually post in the dragon age tag but I had to get this idea out and I hope you like it 😊

[daitranscripts]

Skyhold Masterpost

Main Quest Related Conversations

Here Lies the Abyss: Hawke Here Lies the Abyss: Warden Alistair Here Lies the Abyss: Warden Loghain Here Lies the Abyss: Warden Stroud Here Lies the Abyss: Morrigan - The Final Piece: Morrigan

Skyhold Quests

Sit in Judgements:

Introduction Magister Gereon Alexius Knight-Captain Denam Magister Livius Erimond Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons Ser Ruth Samson - Chief Movran the Under Mayor Gregory Dedrick Crassius Servis Mistress Poulin - Skyhold's Cells

Miscellaneous:

Promoting Barris Quizquizition Skyhold Upgrades Sutherland and Company

Other NPC Conversations

Cremissius Acclasi Dagna Lace Harding - Mother Giselle - Main Quests Mother Giselle - Investigate: Tell Me About Corypheus Mother Giselle - Investigate: I'd Like Inquisition History Mother Giselle - Investigate: Let's Talk About the Chantry Mother Giselle - Investigate: Skyhold Exclusive - Morrigan - Archivist Cabot Elan Ve'mal Gatsi Sturhald Harritt Helisma Derington Marden Ser Morris Surgeon

Conditional:

Haven Survivors - Dennett Fiona

Specializations for the Inquisitor

Assassin - Heir Artificer - Three-Eyes Tempest - Khim - Knight Enchanter - Helaine Necromancer - Viuus Anaxas Rift Mage - Your Trainer - Champion - Chancer de Lion Reaver - Breaker Thram Templar- Ser

Ambient Dialogue

Quest Related:

Here Lies the Abyss: Morrigan and Warden

General:

Cullen's Runner Josephine's Runner Leliana's Runner - Apothecary Runner Merchant Runner Quartermaster Runner Researcher Runner

Locations Masterpost  

[dragonagepolls]

This doesn’t have to mean you agree with them morally. It’s ok to like a villain for being an interesting character.

*Characters who have EVER been controllable party members are not included (e.g. even though Leliana is an NPC in DA2 and DAI, she is controllable in DAO and therefore does not count). Romanceable NPCs (Cullen and Josephine) have also been left out in the interest of giving everyone else a chance.

Bracket 1

Bracket 3

Bracket 4

Bracket 5

Bracket 6

Bracket 7

Bracket 8

Brackets were seeded with a random shuffler. 

[dragonagekeeper]

Disclaimer: This is not recorded in the keep.

Captured as part of the Lost Souls quest. Judged for his crime of attacking Skyhold with a goat in retaliation for his son's death.

Judgment polls / Dragon Age Inquisition Polls

Movran's son, the Hand of Korth, was sent to kill Tevinters but decided that attacking the Herald of Andraste would bring more glory to his god. After his son's death, Movran answered, as is tradition in Avvar culture, by smacking the holdings of the offending party (in this case, the Inquisitor) with goat's blood. Movran freely admits, however, that he has no intention of actually pursuing any conflict with the Inquisition, and offers himself to the Inquisition for judgment.

Banishment

Banish Movran and his clan

2. Put on public display in a gibbet and "probably" released

Sentence Movran to be put in a gibbet (a hanging cage for public display)

3. Arm and Exile to Tevinter

Arm and Exile to the Tevinter Imperium

If Movran is exiled to Tevinter, his clan will establish a settlement on an uninhabited region of the Silent Plains, off the Imperial Highway. The Inquisitor can either overtly support Movran's new settlement (incurring the Imperium's ire), covertly supply them (allowing the settlement to flourish and becoming a welcome stopping point along the road), or simply leave them to their own devices.

4. Assign to Abernache [Sided with Templars and only if Abernache is alive]

Conscript Movran into the Inquisition, in which case he will serve alongside Lord Esmeral Abernache

If partnered with Abernache and Josephine's suggestion is taken, Movran and Abernache develop something resembling a mutual grudging respect and become an effective ambassadorial team, with Josephine noting the value in the Inquisition's threat of "not recalling our ambassadors".

[omniblades-and-stars]

Chief Movran the Under could get it.

[not-your-lifeline]

Inquisitor:

the entire courtroom:

this man: *YEETUS GOATUS*

[dirtybiowareconfessions]

Confession: Chief Movren can fuck me while the rest of his clan watches and humiliates me. Then they can join and make me a cum filled and soaked mess

[7classyantiquestores]

A recent War Table mission in I did in Inquisition let me team up this amazing posh Orlesian noble Abernache with the huge brutish warlord Movran as a diplomatic team, and I’m living for this duo.

Josephine said: “Together they are offensive on every level. A useful pair to inflict on others, perhaps? ‘Do as we say or we will not recall our ambassadors’?”

“Do what the Inquisition wants or our ambassadors won’t leave” is such a hilarious power move and I would love to see this.

Also Movran’s report on how they work is fantastic: “Abernache is too pretty! But spirited! His words hit some like cudgels! And then I hit the rest with actual cudgels!”

Yes, I think this will work out just fine.

[fresh-bungle]

Im sweating its the midde of the night and I was struck with this image and I had to draw it.

You're welcome 😂

[shannaraisles]

Set In Darkness

Chapter: 46 Author name: ShannaraIsles Rating: M Warnings: Language! Summary: She’s a Modern Girl in Thedas, but it isn’t what she wanted. There’s a scary dose of reality as soon as she arrives. It isn’t her story. People get hurt here; people die here, and there’s no option to reload if you make a bad decision. So what’s stopping her from plunging head first into the Void at the drop of a hat?

Never A Moment

She had to tell Cullen.

What a fun conversation that would be. How do you tell a devout workaholic with past trauma issues operating under too much stress and an honorable streak a mile wide that you're carrying his illegitimate love child? How the hell is he going to react? She couldn't even process how she was feeling. Panic was reasonably high on the list, closely followed by shock and abject terror. This couldn't be happening. Whose bright idea was it to make her give birth in a place where epidurals and proper surgery didn't exist?

"Evy," she called to her friend, ducking out of the tent once she'd tidied away the evidence. "I need to talk to the commander about something. Are you all right to hold the fort here for a little while?"

Evy looked up from her work, a faint flicker of concern crossing her face as she took a good look at Rory. "Of course," she answered easily enough. "The nurses have everything under control - I just have to show the new healer around. Are you all right?"

Right, so I look as pale as I feel. Great. "I'm fine," Rory promised her with a weak smile. "Just a little tired, but what else is new?"

The younger woman didn't look convinced, but she knew when not to push. "Take your time," she told her friend. "It's just recovery care right now, anyway."

"Hopefully I won't be too long," Rory assured her, though she had no way of knowing that.

It wasn't as though she could knock, walk in, drop the news, and immediately skip out. If she was lucky, his response wouldn't be audible all over Skyhold or hazardous to his continued health, but whether luck was with her or not, this wasn't a quick conversation in the making. Should she even take this to him now? He was swamped with work; this was just another headache to drop on him, and it wasn't even a headache he had any power to influence. It was a fact. And while there was a way to make it go away ... Rory didn't want to do that. She couldn't imagine Cullen pushing for her to do it, either. So that was that. She was a mum, for better or for worse. Holy crap, I am so screwed. A world of what ifs were open ahead of her, too many to make coherent sense. The panic was simmering - it, at least, was going to be with her in some capacity for the next, oh ... twenty years or so.

The nearest gatehouse tower was still closed off while workers toiled to make it safe. She could have passed under the stone arch and used the steps up to the battlement there - it was the fastest route to Cullen's office. Her feet, however, took her up the stone steps to the upper courtyard. It seemed as though her panic was enough to make her delay this inevitable conversation, even if it was only for a few more minutes. Her mind was racing. Now she thought about it, how could she have missed the symptoms? She was more tired than usual; her toilet breaks more regular; her sense of smell more acute; she did ache in some very specific places. She hadn't had any morning sickness, but then, some women didn't, did they?

So how long do I have, she wondered, lost in thought as she climbed the steps to the main hall. The only mistake had been that night, and that was ... Rory frowned, counting the weeks in her head. Seven or eight, so two months ago, give or take. Seven months to learn as much about midwifery and babies as she could. That really wasn't long enough.

"Looking very serious, Cupcake," a familiar voice drawled nearby.

She blinked, finding herself by the hearth in the hall, with Varric eyeing her from his table. "Hmm?"

"Serious," the dwarf repeated, laying down his quill. "You, looking very. Problems?"

"When aren't there problems?" she asked evasively, chuckling a little in spite of her turmoil. "No, I'm just thinking. Sometimes it hurts."

"Last thing we need is you and Curly with headaches," Varric commented mildly. "Just him is bad enough."

Great, he's having another bad day without telling me. She sighed wearily. "How bad?"

"He's just cranky," her dwarven friend assured her. "Pretty sure a visit from his girl would clear that right up."

"I'm not making any promises," she answered, feeling her anxiety ratchet up a notch. If he's already cranky, this isn't going to go well. Yay. "What are you working on?"

"Huh? Oh, this?" A very nearly evil smile crossed Varric's face. "His illustrious Inquisitorialness wants the next chapter of Swords and Shields for Cassandra."

Rory's eyes narrowed warningly at the mischief in his face. "Varric ... don't you dare muck up their relationship just to get a petty jab in at Cassandra."

"Would I do that?" he asked innocently.

"Yes. Yes, you would."

He chuckled, conceding the point. "Well, I'm not," he promised faithfully. "If only because I think you and Ruffles would hold me down and stab me with my own quill if I did."

She snorted with laughter. "You could be right."

Josephine had worked out that Kaaras liked Cassandra when he'd asked her to explain his book of Antivan poetry to him. The ambassador was a staunch defender of the drive to give the Seeker and the Inquisitor alone time in the hope that one of them would crack and just admit to being in love. She'd even expressed a certain frustration that they didn't even argue properly, unlike Cullen and ...

Rory's smile abruptly faded as she remembered why she was here in the first place.

"All right, Cupcake, what's hurting?" Varric asked, his face creased in a worried frown. "I've never seen you lose a smile that fast before."

Rory sighed, shaking her head. "It's nothing you can fix, Varric," she told him reluctantly. Wish you could. "I'll deal with it."

He eyed her for a moment with vague suspicion, but managed to suppress his natural desire to help with whatever it was. "Here if you need a splendid chest to lean on."

She smiled gratefully. "Thanks."

"Heads up, though," he added, jerking his chin toward the other end of the hall. "Ruffles incoming."

"What?"

Rory glanced over her shoulder, surprised to find Josephine bearing down on her like a woman on a mission. It was unusual to find the Antivan woman out of her office before dinner, but apparently some things required her to seek people out personally.

"Mistress Allen, I am glad to find you here," the ambassador said with a purposeful brightness to her tone that instantly made Rory suspicious. "Madame De Fer's seamstress has arrived. She would like to see both yourself and Lady Trevelyan this afternoon, to begin designing your gowns."

The healer just about managed to bite down on her groan. This was all she needed right now - dress plotting for Halamshiral. "I'll tell Evy," she promised politely. "I think her wedding gown is a little higher on the list of priorities."

"We have only two months to help you prepare for the Imperial Court," Josephine reminded her. "Though several people need that preparation as well. You will not be alone in your lessons."

"I can't promise to always have time for those lessons, Josephine," Rory countered, but the Antivan lady was already ahead of her.

"We will, of course, work around your duties," she insisted with easy aplomb. "You will need to be aware of courtly etiquette and dance, that is all."

Oh, is that all? Lovely. Knowing she couldn't get out of this, Rory decided to give in gracefully. "All right. Just let me know when."

"I will keep you informed," Josephine agreed. "but you must see the seamstress today."

"I will," Rory promised her. "I have things to do first, but I will." Things like give the commander a heart attack and then cry for a solid hour. Shouldn't interfere too much, should it?

She turned to open the door into the rotunda, unsurprised to hear Josephine focus her attention to Varric as she slipped into what was now Solas' work space. Empty, of course, with the elven apostate in the Emerald Graves with Kaaras, but still very much his space. From high above, she heard the croak and flap of the ravens in the rookery and, a little closer, another familiar voice calling down to her.

"If it isn't my favorite unicorn!"

Biting back a frustrated reply, she turned, tilting her head back to find Dorian leaning over the railing above her. "Unicorn?" she repeated incredulously. "Seriously?"

He laughed at her expression. "Perhaps not," the mage conceded with an ostentatious shrug. "Come up, I have something for you."

Can't this wait? But despite her faint annoyance, she wouldn't say no to Dorian. With a rueful smile, she altered her course, turning to take the steps up to the library. It's only a few minutes, she reasoned with herself. You've got about a month to break the news before it becomes blatantly obvious; a few minutes isn't going to make any difference.

Dorian was waiting for her at the top of the stairs. "You're looking done in again," he said, by way of hello. "Tell me, do you ever sleep a full night?"

"Occasionally," Rory heard herself say, a split second before her brain reminded her just who she was talking to.

"How marvelous," the altus teased brightly. "Who would have thought the commander had it in him?"

This time, the answer was out before she could stop it. "I think you'll find it's more often in me." There was a beat as she caught up with herself. "I did not just say that."

"Yes, darling, you did." Dorian laughed, pleased with her snarky reply. "I'm delighted for you."

Mortified and blushing, Rory rubbed her forehead. Why pick today, of all days, to revert to the blurting nug-woman with no boundaries? You've been doing so well! "You said you had something for me?" she asked in a desperate attempt to take control of the conversation.

"It isn't as exciting as what Cullen gives you," the mage warned, chuckling at her slightly outraged squeak of embarrassment. "You are utterly adorable when you're embarrassed, you know. But, as I promised, I have put together a small medical library for you."

Instantly, her embarrassment was gone. "Really?" she asked, curiosity mingling with excitement as she followed him to his little corner of the library, where he indicated a small stack of books on the table. "Thank you! I didn't think you were serious when you suggested it."

"My dear girl, when I say I will do a thing, it gets done," Dorian informed her comfortably. "You were in something of a lather about the gaps in your knowledge."

Rory tilted her head to read the spines. The Leech Book of Vald, Genitivi's Compendium of Thedosian Medicine, Plinth's Anatomical Studies, De Materia Medica, Historia Naturali ... She paused as she found a title that had nothing to do with medicine at all, clearing her throat to get his attention as she extracted Swords and Shields, Vol. III, from the pile. Dorian didn't even blink.

"It's your turn to read the dreadful thing," he pointed out, "though where you find the time to read, I have no idea."

Laughing, Rory put the book down. She actually rather enjoyed Swords and Shields - it was terrible, but entertainingly so. "I don't suppose there's anything on midwifery in this pile, is there?"

"Sadly, no," the mage told her. "Why? Is our blushing bride expecting, too?"

"No," she answered, her smile just a little wan. If only. "But I know virtually nothing about it, and now we're settled again, it's a certainty that someone's going to ... slip."

She wasn't sure she liked the way he was looking at her, but thankfully, he didn't say anything aloud. "I will keep my eyes open for you," he promised instead. "Should I have these delivered to the tower? I saw the workers manhandling a bed in there earlier, so I assume you are moving out of your charming tent at last."

"That would be lovely." She reached up to hug him gratefully, waiting until he responded before pulling back. One of these days, he was going to react instantly to her hugs, but she was patient enough to work on it slowly. "Thank you, Dorian."

"It's my pleasure to be lovely," he answered, the fingertips of his right hand brushing over the smooth curve of her flat stomach, one brow raised curiously. There could be no doubt what he was asking, though she was deeply grateful for his discretion.

She felt the determinedly calm facade she was holding in place crack just a little. "Keep it to yourself?" she whispered, the panic shining through briefly.

Dorian's mustache twitched as he smiled far more gently than she had expected. "Until he tells me, of course," he agreed without a moment's hesitation. And Cullen would tell him, she realized. The two men's friendship had blossomed far quicker than she had expected. "That does rather require you telling him."

"I'm working on it," she promised softly. "I was on my way to try, actually."

"Good." Dorian patted her hand gently. "Don't let me detain you."

Encouraged by his calm confidence, Rory headed back down the stairs, crossing the rotunda to the external door with his eyes on her back all the way. She had a feeling that deviating from her course would result in her being frog-marched directly to Cullen and possibly locked in with him until she 'fessed up. Dorian Pavus might only ever openly admit to having one friend, but he was compulsively protective of all the friends he made. Making her tell the truth through sheer bloody-mindedness was not beyond him. And, besides, he was right. Cullen needed to know. He deserved to know first.

It was breezier up here than it had been in the courtyards. Tucking her arms inside her cloak, she headed across the stone bridge, ignoring the shiver that ran down her spine at the icy gusts that rushed her, albeit gently. Pausing at the door, she knocked, wincing at the sharp, "Come!" that answered her. Sounds like he's in a wonderful mood. She pushed open the door, peering inside warily.

Cullen was standing behind his large desk, leaning on the surface as he scowled down at the papers that covered it. The two other doors to the tower stood open, allowing that healthy breeze to rush through, ruffling his weighted paperwork as it did. He looked tired and angry, and that vein in his temple was throbbing again. The elfroot potion she always made sure he had plenty of was sitting on the desk by his hand. Headache or no headache, here goes nothing.

"Are you busy?" she asked, closing the door behind her.

He raised his eyes from the desk, and his scowl melted away at the sight of her, replaced with a weary smile that made her heart ache pleasantly. "I can always make time for you," he assured her quietly.

"But not to take the potion that will deal with that headache," she pointed out. Despite the anxious knot in her stomach, her smile was fond as she moved toward him, stepping over fallen debris to do so.

"I was just about to," he told her, the guilty cast to his expression telling her the bottle had been sitting there for a good hour or more. Under her knowing gaze, he unstopped the potion and took a healthy gulp, grimacing at the taste.

"Have you taken a break at all today?" she asked then, again knowing he hadn't before he admitted to it.

"There's so much to do," he tried to say, but Rory was just as stubborn as he was. It was part of the reason he'd noticed her in the first place.

"And nothing is going to fall apart if you take ten minutes to walk the battlements with me," she informed him, her expression daring her lover to argue. "Please?"

Cullen's brows drew together in concern at the unexpected plea. "Are you all right?" he asked her, straightening to come out from behind the desk.

Just that tender concern was enough to destabilize her composure, but she managed to keep it together. "I'm worried about you," she told him. It wasn't a lie; it just wasn't the truth, either. "Ten minutes, that's all I'm asking."

He held her gaze for a long moment, clearly trying to decide if he should be worried. "Ten minutes," he agreed finally, laying a hand at the small of her back to escort her out into the sunshine.

They walked in silence along the crenelated battlements, passing the guard patrolling this section before coming to a halt to look out over the snowy vista side by side. Cullen's fingers brushed hers, a single point of contact that meant the world to her as she struggled to find the words for what she needed to say. I'm pregnant was too blunt, too unexpected. Marry me, I'm up the duff likely wouldn't go down too well. Remember that time against the tree lacked the gentle tone she thought he needed. What about ...

She squeaked as his arm wrapped about her waist, drawing her close into his side. "You're fidgeting," he murmured against her temple. "Why so nervous?"

A low sigh escaped her lips. "Because there's something I need to tell you," she confessed, tilting her head to look up at him. "And you might not be happy about it."

"I already know you're going to the Winter Palace," he told her in a disapproving tone. "Which you somehow failed to tell me yourself."

Red heat spilled guiltily across her cheeks. Is that better, or worse, she wondered. "No, it's not that."

The wrap of his arm squeezed supportively about her back. "What is it, then?"

"I, um ..."

But Fate has a funny sense of humor. Sometimes it enjoys throwing obstacles in your path. In this case, as Rory braced herself to share her news ... it threw a goat at the outer wall directly below them. She distinctly heard the bleat, and the splat, leaning forward to look down at the man who had thrown it as Cullen exclaimed in affronted surprise.

"What in the name of -" He drew back from her, already shouting to his men. "Detain that man!"

As the soldiers scrambled to catch the Avvar hooting in satisfaction on the mountainside below, he began to follow, only to turn back to her with an apologetic look in his eyes. She sighed, shaking her head with a helpless laugh.

"It'll keep," she promised, waving him away. He needed his duty to come first, at least until he could make the decision about his priorities. "Go."

With a last concerned look, Cullen moved away, quickly out of sight. Rory turned back to the view, leaning against the gray stone to watch as the Inquisition apprehended Movran the Under with no small difficulty. Typical, she thought resignedly. Goatus interruptus.

[skyheld]

i still don’t understand why you can’t just send the avvar chieftain who throws a goat at skyhold away without punishment,  but i do like that there’s an option that both he,  presumably his clan and nearly all of the companions approve of

[luxflora]

FUCK the elves tbh like in the game i like the dalish but fuck solas and the elvhenan and also i hate how fandom has just gotten all over dalish/elvhen lore’s dick and just like COMPLETELY ignored human history & the actual history of andraste and the chantry and also THE FUCKING ALAMARRI AND THE HUMAN TRIBES AND ALSO THE DWARVES FUCK FANDOM ELVES ARE BORING AND OVERDONE AND HUMANS AND DWARVES ARE FUCKING FRESH

[thorgans-guide-to-thedas]

Brekka Outpost

After the exile of the Avvar chieftain, Movran the Under, he and his companions settle alongside the Imperial Highway in the Silent Plains. Deciding to make a new life with the resources given by the Inquisition, the people of Edvarr Hold now occupy a rather lively oasis that is a popular traveler's stop on the way to the Tevinter Imperium. Feel free to use this location in your campaigns!

Location description under the cut:

1. Oasis: A beautiful freshwater spring that is naturally occurring. There are beautiful shady palms and sweet smelling flowers that grow alongside the rim of the water. 

2. Market: A quaint market that holds the necessities for travelling and every day life. 

3. Longhouse: Home of Movran the Under and his trusted advisors. It is also the place of celebration and feasting, which you are gladly invited to if you are lucky enough to be called ‘friend’ by the chieftain.

4. Traveler’s Refuge: A bustling encampment of passing travelers, where tents of all shapes, sizes, and banners can be found set outside the walls of Brekka. 

[chocochipbiscuit]

Black Emporium Recs!

Black Emporium 2022 was amazing this year! It always is, but I was extra excited because this was my first time doing exchanges for a few years!

In the spirit of the anons period, posting without creator names!

Art

Wine Stains - Josephine/Tentacles - Josephine relaxes after a long day at work, with help from a friend! I love how full-bodied and luscious Josephine is in this art! Every curve and freckle is pure indulgence. And I was lucky enough to have this gifted to me!

kraken’s garden - Isabela/Tentacles - Isabela has fun with a friendly sea creature! It’s sweet and playful in every detail, and I adore her little lip-bite and the little suckers on the tentacles. I was fortunate enough to have this gifted to me!

heartsease - Cassandra/Leliana - Soft and gorgeous art of them spooning in a meadow! Just lovely, and it makes my heart at ease. <3

another turn about the room? - Josephine/Leliana - Regency AU hand-kissing!!!! It’s beautiful and warm and makes my heart sing!!!

Looking Up to Her - Cassandra/Josephine - Josephine’s astride Cass (and Cass’ strap), while Cassandra is looking up very respectfully!!! Tender and hot and just!!! Lovely!!!!

Four Seasons - Cassandra/Josephine - A lovely series showing them growing closer over the course of the year. <3

Fic

What We Can Do Together - Briala/Shianni - The elf political duo that I crave!!! Briala and Shianni are friends and allies, and this fic begins with Briala sending an invitation out of Denerim. There’s so much implied history and growth nibbling around the edges of this fic, I’m just glad to get this glimpse of their future. And I was lucky enough to be gifted this!

Pleasure Cruise - Isabela/Merrill/Tentacles, Isabela/Merrill/Aveline - Isabela invites Merrill and Aveline to look for treasure! Isabela and Merrill tell Aveline about a very interesting dream that they have. ;) It’s light and playful smut, and it was written for me!

Abernache over Under - Abernache/Movran the Under - Puntastic title for the ambassadors who might not be recalled! It’s bite-sized PWP, perfect for making you smile!

Home Is A Fire - F!Adaar/Josephine - Adaar’s a little nervous about Josephine meeting the Valo-Kas, but it goes well. :’) I really love the cheerful avalanche of the kith!

Divine Victoria’s Nug Rescue - F!Surana/Leliana - Delightful Oghren POV as he visits Val Royeaux to see…well, the titular Divine Victoria’s Nug Rescue. Short, sweet, and fun!

Flowers for the Ambassador - The Iron Bull/Josephine - Someone has been secretly sending Josephine flowers! But who is it? This was fun and sweet, especially with Bull giving Josephine helpful hints to solve the ~mystery~!

Barefoot in Skyhold’s Morning Dew - Merrill/The Iron Bull - Merrill visits Skyhold, and is very interested in Bull. The feeling is mutual! Merrill’s POV is absolutely wonderful here, and there’s this gorgeous tenderness about the shared connection with both of them as outsiders to their own people, but also extremely hot enthusiastic rough sex and I’m still just like HNGGGHHH I enjoyed it so much!

By the Spymaster’s Stolen Drawers - Josephine/Leliana - Such a fun outsider POV fic! We’re following one of Leliana’s agents as he follows an unknown person who’s snuck into Leliana’s room, as well as getting his memories of watching Josephine and Leliana fall in love!

those flowering summer nights - Cassandra/Vivienne - A series of moments where Cassandra and Vivienne are forced to spend time together, and the feelings that bloom! This is just so beautifully written, both Cassandra’s POV and Vivienne, and it’s beautiful and tender and yearning and there are so many moments of shared vulnerability, including missteps and argument, it’s gorgeous and complex and I cannot do it justice with my clumsy words!

I get it bad and it gets better every day - Anora/F!Cousland - A lifetime of conversations, starting from when they were young, and their evolving relationship. Anora is wonderfully voiced and I love the complexity as they grow older and reach a different understanding of who they are to each other. It’s sweet and a little achey and tender and just! So good.

the treasure of a gentle soul - Josephine/Delrin Barris - Adorable bite-sized fluff of their first meeting!!!

What Harding Left Behind - Bram Kenric/Lace Harding - Absent-minded academic’s quest to return one of Lace Harding’s lost possessions! He braves suspicious gate guards and his own embarrassed fumbling! Utterly sweet and precious, 1000% recommended!

Still Alive - F!Hawke/Vivienne - Hysterically funny Hawke voice and some very real Vivienne thirst before ricocheting and walloping me in the feels with complicated grief and mourning and sometimes just burying yourself in someone’s arms as an interlude against the pain!

a star to steer her by - Bethany/Nathaniel - Bethany, in the Wardens and now on Isabela’s boat with Nathaniel. This is gorgeous and lovely and absolutely sold me on a ship I had never considered before!

away from the party - Leliana/Morrigan - This is such a short fic to pack in so much about the weight of their history and relationship and the way that Morrigan’s leaving again and Leliana’s objections…I just am swoony because I love this ship and this hits my buttons for them. <3

There are many other fine works in the collection, this was only a sampling of what I was able to read and consume during the anon period. <3

[kristieconspiracy]

1/∞ (funny) moments: Dragon Age: Inquisition

You killed my idiot son, and I answered, as is my custom, by smacking your holdings with goat’s blood. Don’t look at me.

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

Here’s a silly little thing I did on request for @crunadh for the prompt “Healing”. What if love has actually healing powers – or at least Geralt believes it does?

2.183 words, Rated T, read under the cut or on AO3

"Oh. Oh! Yeah, right there. Go ahead, uh... don't stop... a little harder..."

"You're embarrassing," Emhyr muttered, but he actually didn't stop. His hands vigorously kneaded Geralt's back, and the latter's muscles responded to it like butter to sunshine.

"The word you're looking for is enthusiastic," Geralt replied with a groan. "Who knew you were so good at it? You're a natural. Oh, yeah, right there!"

"We have servants for that sort of thing," Emhyr returned.

But he still didn't stop. His fingers squeezed with just the proper hardness to relieve all the tension his spouse had gotten after his training. The same had probably been right by stating that even a horse needed regular exercise and that he needed to resume it. The comparison seemed somehow indecent to Emhyr, but in the end, it was probably apt – a witcher without exercise was useless, and if he had to compare it to anything, it was perhaps to a well-trained soldier, whose skills would rust without regular training. Oh, all these comparisons were useless because in front of him on the bed, completely naked and with tangled hair, lay his husband, and he knew exactly what this sight did to him.

"That's right," smirked the latter now. "But you like it. You like it so much that you..."

He uttered the last words in Nilfgaardian, another thing he had begun to practice again lately. This earned him a hearty slap on the backside.

"Your pronunciation of arse leaves much to be desired."

"Maybe so, but you have healing hands," Geralt growled delightedly underneath him. "You will find..."

He suddenly fell silent. Emhyr, who had noticed that even Geralt's buttocks were tense and had begun to loosen them with a vigorous kneading, asked irritably, "What?"

Deft as a snake, Geralt wriggled around under Emhyr's dexterous hands, accidentally presenting a first success of the latter's efforts.

"You know," he said, unusually serious, "you actually have the ability to make me feel better when you touch me."

Emhyr snorted. If there was one thing Geralt was not, it was romantic; and he had not for a moment supposed that this desire for a post-exercise massage had any meaning other than a new form of foreplay that his witcher loved so passionately.

"It's true," Geralt protested, "healing hands."

"Oh, really?"

Emhyr thought this was nothing more than a strange but somehow cute form of dirty talking, and wordlessly he brushed off his dressing gown.

Geralt's eyes lit up on his reply, "Let me show you what these hands can heal."

                                                        -:¦:-

A few days later, their breakfast was graced by Ciri's presence, who was now back in the palace more often and had begun to take a renewed interest in her future duties. Her morning greeting faltered when she noticed Emhyr's left hand resting on one of Geralt's thighs.

"I beseech you, at breakfast? You can't keep pulling the young married couple card all the time."

Geralt merely grinned, but Emhyr, on whose stoic countenance her insolence bounced that morning, calmly brought the teacup to his mouth and took a sip before answering.

"The leg is aching," he simply replied, and Ciri's expression became compassionate.

The effects of multiple fractures and magical healing were more noticeable some days than others, she knew this, and so Ciri asked with interest, "And that helps?"

"Sometimes," Geralt said. Then he grinned again. "I've told your father before that he has healing hands, but he won't hear of it."

Ciri screwed up her face as if he had made a dirty joke, but then she suddenly mused, "You know, there might even be something to it. I once read about how lovers can actually develop healing abilities when they interact with each other."

"That's nonsense," said Triss, who had just entered the room.

"Well, in this case, I guess you can talk about relief as a priority, but what if there's something to it? Love can release endorphins..."

"Healing is due to the body's own substances, which can be triggered with magic, but certainly not by love," Triss said, and thereupon a somewhat heated discussion broke out between the two, which soon encompassed utterly different topics.

                                                   -:¦:-

The matter was forgotten for a while as everyday life had a grip on them, but like flashlights, it brought itself back to mind repeatedly. Such as when Emhyr – which, given his idiosyncrasy of often poring over papers in an uncomfortable pose until late at night occurred not so rarely – experienced a headache. Geralt, who had already tried in vain hours ago to lure him away from this work to get some rest, had put his hands on his husband's cramped shoulders, pressed a kiss on the back of his head, and looked over his shoulders.

"That can wait until tomorrow," he said firmly.

And Emhyr, quite contrary to his habits of not being distracted from a task, had actually put down the quill, laid back his head, and let his spouse handle his shoulders. Geralt had to think of the countless times Emhyr's presence, his touch, the mere feeling of his hands in his had given him a sense of relief.

"There is something to it after all," he said thoughtfully.

"Hmm?"

"Healing hands," Geralt replied, "What if that really works? On both sides?"

"Don't be silly. There's nothing healing about it. Your fingers just happen to rest on neuralgic points and cut off the pain supply, that's science, Geralt."

Despite the pretentious tone, Geralt had heard exactly the essential point from these words. He leaned over, nuzzled his cheek against Emhyr's, and whispered, "That means you don't have a headache anymore?"

Emhyr looked at him in surprise but had to silently admit that this was true. And he, too, remembered countless occasions when it had been this way – Geralt had a talent for making a difference with a single touch, and no doubt it was the same the other way around. It was intuitive, something neither of them had ever consciously thought about. The soothing effect of a hand, even fleetingly placed on tense muscles. Fingers intertwined, untangling strained thoughts. A firm stroke over the back after a nightmare. The gentle touch on temples that were taut from endless brooding. As Geralt had said: the ability to make the other person feel better just by touching them. He had to admit that there was indeed something curative about it.

                                                       -:¦:-

The implications of these findings, if taken seriously, were remarkable. They both mulled over these considerations without actually talking about it, and almost unconsciously, the mutual touching increased. If the reason they were doing each other well with this was their mutual affection, it only seemed to strengthen it. In other words, Geralt and Emhyr could not keep their hands off each other. As if to regularly reassure themselves that their touches had the desired effect, they touched each other more and more frequently. It was undoubtedly an exciting boost for their love life, which had never suffered from too little attention, but now reached unexpected new heights. It almost seemed as if they wanted to combine true love's kiss with true love's touch, but if they were enchanted, this spell could not be broken.

Although they had rarely hidden their affection, it seemed even more apparent now, and they were seen holding hands in the palace more often than before. It seemed to lift the general mood. As far as Emhyr was concerned, it would have been an exaggeration to say that he displayed certain contentment. But overall, everything seemed as bright and rosy as it should be for newlyweds.

Nevertheless, everyday difficulties had not disappeared, as became apparent one day when Ciri accompanied a limping and cursing Geralt to the infirmary set up by Triss. They had been hunting together – a concession they had both wrested from Emhyr, for Ciri, too, needed a balance to the duties she had, after all, voluntarily accepted. It quickly became clear that this balance could not be found in the ever languishing Movran Voorhis, which had led to some disagreements and the latter's near resignation. After those waters were smoothed, Emhyr had agreed, to the astonishment of both Ciri and Geralt, that she could occasionally accompany him when he took on a contract – nothing too dangerous, nonetheless.

This time, something had gone wrong, and it was only thanks to Ciri's quick intervention that Geralt escaped with a dislocated kneecap and a broken arm, while she herself only suffered a few scrapes. As always, Emhyr had been notified immediately, and he watched the treatment of his court sorceress with a wary eye, holding Geralt's hand.

Ciri, observing that Geralt apparently used the touch to nearly break his spouse's hand between a string of juicy curses, which the latter stoically accepted, said at one point in surprise, "Say, you two, you didn't really take that seriously, did you?"

"What?"

"Me, rambling on about the healing power of love the other day. I was just teasing you, but apparently, I started a little something..."

Triss, who had just conjured up a magical ointment for the re-set kneecap with flowing hand movements, looked up at Ciri and replied, "Well, I for one took it seriously."

As all eyes turned to her, the sorceress could not prevent a certain blush from shooting into her cheeks.

"What? It's not so far off, even though I was skeptical at first. So if you were just making it up, Ciri, you were amazingly clairvoyant. Love may release hormones that can relieve pain, among other things – so, for instance, with a touch."

To everyone's surprise, Geralt started laughing, and even Emhyr showed a slight smile.

"It's clear you were messing with us," Geralt said to Ciri. "However, I have to admit; there was something rather stimulating about the idea..."

"Oh please, don't elaborate," Ciri moaned with a disgusted expression. "If I had known that you would become the purest lovebirds after this…"

"I guess you fell into your own trap there, girl," Emhyr opined. "When apparently it can be scientifically proven that there is some truth to your love theory."

"I didn't say anything about it being scientific," Triss interjected. "There are only a few writings by physicians on this."

"Doctors aren't scientific enough for the sorceress, that's it," Geralt sneered but quickly regretted it when she turned to treat his arm.

"We can test out which one you prefer," she replied calmly. "Traditional splinting of the bone as done by barber-surgeons, often with little accuracy, wraps of dubious hygiene and at most weekly dressing changes, as recommended in the now obsolete but still used publication Osseous Therapeuticus. In the meantime, you can try a lot of loving affection; it allegedly promotes the healing process and, in some cases, shortens it. However, some report that the pain is a bit detrimental to libido. Or we might do it my way. That hurts, too, but instead of hoping for a dubious result for about two months, you can move your arm again without any problems in a week. I still recommend holding hands with the other arm, though. "

The others stared at her, speechless, until Geralt, feeling quite powerless at the moment, finally inquired, "You made that book up, didn't you?"

Emhyr, on the other hand, stated, "In this case, I trust entirely in the healing abilities of truly competent hands," which, of course, settled the matter.

                                                      -:¦:-

That evening, however, when they were alone, and it was up to him to take care of his spouse, which essentially consisted of making him comfortable, Geralt couldn't help but remark, "And I still think there's something to it."

"Well," Emyhr commented rather dryly, "it's obviously some dubious science, but this thing about releasing hormones..."

"Not that," Geralt interrupted him. "It's only logical; you can find some writings about it at Kaer Morhen, though these days they might not be considered particularly ethical. Still, I think the idea that true love can heal..."

"That wasn't what Ciri was implying," Emhyr interrupted him, frowning. "Hold on. You knew about this hormone thing and all that all along? But you tried to make me believe in the power of love?"

Geralt made a somewhat embarrassed impression. Emhyr raised his brows – which, depending on his mood, could mean anything from mockery to skepticism to blatant rejection. This time, however, it was something else.

"I would consider that a touch of romance; however, I suspect you had some baser instincts."

With one arm in a sling, Geralt's shrug turned out a bit awkward.

"Well, it worked," he returned. "You were very affectionate lately."

"That's the dumbest thing I've heard lately," Emhyr blurted. "You don't think there would have been any other way to achieve this.... aim?"

"Oh yes, certainly," Geralt admitted bluntly. "But it was more fun that way. And healing it was in any case."

"You're such an idiot," Emhyr muttered, shaking his head. "Why do you think it was healing?"

Geralt grinned, and Emhyr instantly regretted his question.

"Sexual healing."