#Roguelioness writes

[roguelioness]

Pharos

When Neria agreed to serve as Rook's advisor, she never thought she would meet Solas outside of a battlefield.

Pairing: Solas x Neria Lavellan Rating: G Words: 1540 dragon age: the veilguard spoilers ahead.

Read on AO3

Sleep does not come easy, her heart frantically drumming its excitement. Neria stares at the roof, lets her eyes trace the many beams that criss-cross and support the structure. It has been so long since she saw him, so many years spent with barely any news of his existence. How often she has worried about him, even as she fretted over his plans. 

Would he have forgotten her? Had he thought of her at all?

Did he miss her?

Well, she thinks, I will have all the answers I need once I fall asleep.

It is no easier, but sheer exhaustion soon consumes here. When her eyes open, she is in the Fade, familiarly green in an unfamiliar location. She glances around, waiting for her guide to show up; a few moments later a figure strides towards her, her silhouette familiar, and Neria’s shoulders relax.

“I thought you would never turn up,” Rook remarks.

“I could not fall asleep,” she confesses with a faint smile.

Rook nods abstractedly, her mind still clearly occupied by the disastrous turn of events. “Come,” she says as she starts to walk away, “the Lighthouse is this way.”

“How can you tell?” Neria asks. “The Fade is so vast…”

Rook’s expression is grim. “Interrupting the ritual had a price,” she says, voice and body stiff. “I do not know the specifics, but I am bound to Solas, and the Fade. I will always know where he is, and he will know where I am.”

She stumbles, emotion catching in her chest and clogging up her lungs. Bound to Solas? Tied so close to him that she would know his location at any time? It is what she has wanted the most the past years, and that this new hero, her successor, has been granted it while she, the one who had loved him and who still loves him, has not… The sense of being discarded, as illogical as it is, has tears prickling at her eyes, and her fingers curl into her palms, nails digging into the skin, to steady herself. I was his enemy, she reminds herself. Why would he want to let me know where he wanders when he knew I wished to stop him?

Still, the rejection stings, hot and angry, and she has to remind herself to calm those wayward emotions lest she attract the attention of demons.

“Is he-” Neria hesitates, then starts again. “Is he well?”

Rook throws her a sympathetic look over her shoulder. “You’ll see for yourself soon enough.”

Soon enough comes quicker than she expected, and it is with a near-overwhelming sense of awe that she glances at what Rook has called The Lighthouse. So this is Solas’ real base, his personal home. Once again that feeling of bitterness that she’s not the first to experience this, that for all he claimed to love her, he did not truly trust her enough to-

He gave you Skyhold, she reminds herself. 

He gave the fortress to the Inquisition, she rebuts. He gave the fortress to the Inquisitor. Not to me. 

He did not invite them, her mind patiently counters. It is Rook’s interruption of his ritual that has resulted in her presence here. He did not prioritize them over you.

For an indeterminate length of time she merely gazes up at the grand building, at the hues of gold and purple that adorn it. That it is his is impeccably clear; she has intimate knowledge of how his magic feels, and it is so thick here it is a physical touch against her non-corporeal skin. Large, gilded windows allow golden light to stream in; the stone that make up the walls gleam with a kind of mother-of-pearl sheen. The Fade here is warm, comforting, a balm to her riot of emotions – it is unsurprising that his space in the Fade is so heartening.

And yet, for all its majesty, there is something heart-wrenchingly lonely about The Lighthouse.

Rook huffs impatiently. Neria rouses herself out of her thoughts at the sound, and follows the other woman into the mansion. There is opulence everywhere, though it is not garish; wherever she looks are touches of that same purple and gold – on the border of the carpet, the edge of the drapes, the pattern on the cushions adorning the plush couches.

So much space, she thinks, for one person.

When they pass the dining hall – twice as long as it is wide, and it is so very wide – she spies a great table with more chairs than she can count, and it is empty, so, so empty save a single plate and knife and fork, with a solitary goblet to match, and it slams into her then just what a terribly isolated, lonesome existence he must have led. How many times had he been betrayed to be instilled with the belief that he could trust no one? How many friends, how many lovers had cast him aside, had turned away from him because of the rumors that accompanied his name?

“Why are you crying?” Rook asks. 

Neria wipes at her face, mildly surprised to feel the tears. “It’s nothing,” she shakes her head. “Let’s keep going.”

The library is their destination, Rook’s unofficial war room as Solas has barred entry into other places in his home. She can understand that; it must be hard enough for him to handle this intrusion into his fiercely-guarded privacy, he would not want to let these new interlopers into every little bit of this deeply personal space.

They pass what she thinks to be the library. It is- she has no words for it. A row of towering bookshelves line two walls, filled with tomes and tchotchkes and trinkets. Sofas carved from rich, warm wood and covered in soft, shimmering velvet rest next to mosaic-covered tables, atop which rest intricately sculpted lights that glow with a bright, cozy light. There are books everywhere – stacked on top of tables, scattered across the floor, spread open on the seats. This, Neria realizes, this is where he spends the most time, the true heart of his home. The urge to enter and give everything within a closer look is almost irresistible; were it not for Rook taking their arm and giving a gentle tug, she would have succumbed.

“Not that one,” she says simply as she guides away from that oh-so-compelling room.

They encounter one of Rook’s companions on the way to their destination; Neria thinks the russet-skinned woman exuding such confidence is the one Rook said was called Neve. 

“Rook, a moment if you would?” Neve says.

Rook turns to her. “The library is right around the corner,” she says. “Give me a few minutes, and we’ll catch up.”

Slightly insulted over her exclusion – did Neve not think she could be trusted? – Neria makes her way to the library, coming to an abrupt standstill at the doorway.

Standing by a window, gloriously warm amber light caressing his face, is Solas. His back is to her, and she takes advantage of his ignorance of her presence to take his in. He is dressed in dark leather armor – beautifully made with materials she doesn’t recognize – as though despite this being a safe place, he does not entirely trust the people wandering his halls. Shoulders and back stiff, his chin jutted forwards, he reminds her of a cornered wild creature that is ready to lash out and strike at any moment.

And then he turns, and she sees his face for the first time in almost a decade, and her heart skips a beat before beginning a galloping rhythm–

A deep furrow sits between his brows, but the scar she has kissed so many hundreds of times is still there. There are heavy bags beneath his eyes, but his irises are the same shade of blue-grey-violet she remembers. His face wears a touch more color but his freckles are still visible, and she wants to count them to ensure each and every one of them are yet there. He– he is thinner than she remembers, his cheeks more gaunt; he appears like a man who has been well-plagued by stress.

He looks worried and frustrated and anxious, though it soon gives way; first into an expression of shock and surprise, then muted sorrow and dulled regret, before going blank entirely. But his eyes, oh, his eyes – they are ravenously, desperately hungry, and she shivers under the weight of that rapacious gaze, her skin flushing and warming beneath the force of it.

“Oh, vhenan,” she murmurs, taking a step towards him, trying not to take it personally as he takes a step back in response, “you have not been taking care of yourself.”

Whatever he had expected her to say, it had not been that, and the tension bleeds from him. “Neria,” he says, so quietly and reverentially it pulls tears to her eyes, “ir abelas, vhenan.”

Unable to help herself, unable – and unwilling – to resist, she bridges the space between them with long, rapid strides, flinging her arms around his neck and rejoicing in the form and feel of him. “I’m here,” she whispers, making a soft, choked laugh as his fingers tighten their grip on her, “I’m here.”

[scionshtola]

For the sleepy prompts: how about 2 for Cori and Y'shtola? 👀

thank you rolo!! 💗

2.  “Go rest.  I’ll take care of it.” || (420 words)

Corisande pushed open the doors of the Waking Sands storeroom, hoping to grab a quick snack before they made their way to an inn for the night. They expected it to be empty at this hour, everyone either gone home for the night or curled up somewhere much more comfortable. Instead they found Y’shtola, a host of books arrayed on the table before her, resting her chin in her hand.

It was hard to tell from this distance, but Corisande was certain she was asleep.

She approached the table quietly, trying not to disturb her. Only when she was at Y’shtola’s side did her eyes snap open, wide with alarm.

“Oh, Corisande! ‘Tis only you.” She straightened in her chair, blinking as she focused on Corisande. “I take it your mission fared well, seeing as you have returned in one piece, late though your arrival may be.”

“I hadn’t realized I was on a schedule,” Corisande teased. “What keeps you here at such an hour? This does not seem like the most comfortable way to sleep.”

“I wished to see your safe return myself. Though had you not awoken me, ‘tis likely I would have missed your arrival completely.” She rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn behind her hand before smiling up at Corisande.

They smiled back, warming at Y’shtola’s care for them. Judging by how low her lamp had burned, she had waited a long time for them to return. “You did not have to wait up for me.”

She waved at Corisande, dismissing their words, then gestured at the book that lay open before her. “Pray do not think I have spent this time idle, however. I have been researching the primal entities, that we may be more prepared should they be summoned yet again.”

“I would not dream of suggesting you had ever been idle, Shtola.” She fought back a teasing grin. “Though I think you have done enough work for the night. You should get some sleep.”

Y’shtola’s eyes closed again, and she slumped slightly in her chair. “I just need to return these books to the shelves first.”

“Go rest,” they said, squeezing her shoulder. “I’ll take care of it.”

She nodded and pushed herself up from the table. She squeezed their elbow gently, listing toward them. “Thank you, Corisande. And as always, I am glad that you returned to us safely.”

Y’shtola left the lamp behind as she headed for the door. Corisande watched her go, heart full with affection for her friend.

[galadrieljones]

WIP Wednesday Thursday

Thank you for the tags @thevikingwoman and @roguelioness ^^

Just finishing up my Sene Lavellan x Ameridan section for Riptide. I wrote an entirely new piece yesterday in which Solas visits Ameridan in the Fade. It was very fun to write them. It's very fun to write Solas any time he is taken by surprise and/or off-balance:

"I have come here to just…ask you how she is," said Solas. "How she is doing. That is all.”

Ameridan, amused, finished his drink. He refilled it himself with two finger taps to the table. “You want to know how Sene is doing?”

“Yes.”

“She is doing well,” said Ameridan. “She is fine. Why don't you ask her yourself?”

"What do you mean?"

"I've seen your butterflies," he said, smiling. "They hover over her as she sleeps. At first, I thought maybe Abelas, but he doesn't have the power to track her like that, to know where she is. You, however, do. So, why don't you simply walk in her dreams, and ask her? Or do you do that already?"

"I haven't walked in Sene's dreams in over a year," said Solas. "I figured she would have told you."

"We don't speak of you very often, Solas. It is a sore subject for Sene. If ever we do, that's a whole conversation, and it tends to ruin the mood." 

tagbacks for both ❤️ New tags for @bearlytolerant @littlelindentree @gneebee @im-immortal @wrenbee

@a-shakespearean-in-paris @ladylike-foxes @shift-shaping @halla-hunts-the-wolf @myreia

(I tried to tag some old and new friends. If you don't have a writing wip, any wip will do, like show me your knitting or the pie you're baking, or feel free to ignore this ily)

[darethshirl]

Rules: Make a poll of your favorite female characters (no limits - as many or as little as you want) and see which your followers like the most!

thank you to @fadedsweater for tagging me! 🥰 this was FUN (probably only fun for me specifically lmao but oh well!! still counts!)

super tempted to add more but I'll keep it to 10 I GUESS 😤 tagging back @sarsaparillia, @hollyand-writes, @melisusthewee, @rosella-writes, @dreadfutures, @roguelioness, @queenaeducan and any other mutual I'm forgetting!

[thevikingwoman]

Fic Authors Self Rec

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the love ❤️

I was tagged by @myreia and @a-shakespearean-in-paris, thank you both! It's hard to pick favorites? (I cheated)

Tagging forward, and to anyone else who wants to!

@galadrieljones @redinkofshame @ubejamjar @roguelioness @galadae

@bearlytolerant @kittlesandbugs @ellstersmash @janzoo @coldshrugs

@gangrelslut @superfluouskeys @buttsonthebeach

- 1. The Lovers

FFXIV | Shadowbringers | Wol x Tansui | Explicit | 4310 words

After defeating the Rak'tika Lightwarden, Warrior of Light (& Darkness) finds time to teleport back to the source, yearning to see her lover again. Tansui is more than happy to see her again, and their need for each other is undeniable. However, after they come together, something weighs on Tansui's mind

This is one of my most recent fics, and I really love exploring both Meryta's and Tansui's POV in this one. I struggled getting it to where I wanted, but I'm so happy with where it ended up and some of the nuances I was able to get in here.

- 1.5 Passing Through

FFXIV | Stormblood patches | Wol x Tansui | Explicit | 4518 words

Warrior of Light Meryta Khatin, while helping Genbu with the Four Lords passes through Onokoro. She can't help checking in on a friend - and Meryta and Tansui can't deny the attraction between them.

Alright, I'm cheating and adding one more Meryta and Tansui fic. This one was the one that settled the idea I had for them in my mind, that made me think of them as ship - even if they're not there yet. I had such fun writing it, and I think it shows.

- 2. Choices

FFXIV | Shadowbringers | Wol | Gen | 736 words

After the reveal and failure of G'raha's plan, Meryta has a moment - angry, hurt, confused and falling apart

I love this little MSQ coda, it was so great to express the feeling about the whole plot, and how it felt to Meryta. I think I expressed her feelings and interiority so well, and put some great images in here.

- 3. Comfort

Dragon Age | Vampire AU | Solavellan | Explicit | 7107 words

"Brooding alone?” someone asks. A woman, an elf, leans on the bar next to him. Her red hair is up in a ponytail, displaying the tawny skin on her muscular back. She is wearing a shimmering white dress, only a scrap of fabric covering her back. “I am just here to enjoy a drink in peace,” he replies. She laughs, eyes sparkling and lighting up her face. Her lips are painted bold red, and he notices her vallaslin, a dull olive covering the right side of her face. Dalish, then. Not many clans do that anymore. “No one comes here to drink in peace,” she says. “Iwyn Lavellan.” She holds out her hand, and he has to take it, bringing it to his lips in a kiss. Later, he blames the alcohol, or her sparkling the eyes, or the way the dress barely covers her ass. “Solas. Pleased to meet you.”

Probably my favorite AU. I love the little plot, I love the world, I love the dynamic between them. I love writing Iwyn as the immortal. I love the images and descriptions I wrote - and he smut is pretty good too!

- 4. Home

Uprooted (Naomi Novik) | post-book | Agnieszka/ Sarkan | Teen | 2175 words

He misses her, just not more than he fears belonging.

This is probably the favorite fic I have ever written. I think I hit the mood of the book so well, and managed to make a believable continuation. I just think this one flows so well and I'm very proud of it.

- 5. Temerity

Dragon Age | post Inquistion | Solavellan | Explicit | 10728 words

Iwyn Lavellan is doing all that she can to stay one step ahead of Solas, opposing him after he reveals his plans. When she runs into her former lover in an abandoned ruin, they start a tenuous and dangerous dance. They can't help but being drawn to each other, no matter how harsh the flames of love or hate will burn them.

I love this one for so many reasons. Though not Iwyn and Solas canon (in my head) reunion, I love the darkness of this, and the way they're messed up. I'm so proud of myself for going there and writing this and putting it out in the world. I love some of the metaphors, I love the intensity. And I love the open ending I left; do they spiral or do they make it through?

[myreia]

last six lines

tagged by @lilas & @thevikingwoman, ty! 💕

tagging: @birues @roguelioness @bearlytolerant @lilbittymonster @anneapocalypse

rules: post the last six sentences you’ve written

from Lend an Ear, the last ffxivwrite prompt I finished! (who knows what I am going to write today.....)

It has happened before. He was young and foolish when he let Estinien into his heart. Has he learned anything since? Or is she destined to meet a similar end? There is something about these warriors his heart chooses—bound to wander like distant stars, while he is ever bound to Ishgard. Aureia’s voice resounds in his ear, warm and firm and with such tenderness he is reminded why exactly he loves her. “I would like that.”

[barbex]

Writer Game

Look what I found in my drafts!

@celemee tagged me for this, thank you! It looks short and fun, so I'm inflicting it on everybody. Tagging: @sulky-valkyrie, @effelants, @tobythewise, @andrastesknickerweasel, @mordinette, @zet-sway​, @roguelioness, @potatowitch, @for-the-ninth, @anneapocalypse, @rakshadow, @contreparry, @highwayphantoms, and everybody else who wants to!

Do you write in order? Yes. I'm a discovery writer. I write the story as it appears in the headlights of my very slow car.

Do you start with something in particular? I wish I had a system. Really, it would help so much! I often start with dialogue, but then I also like starting mid blowjob scene.

How fully formed does your writing come out on the first try? Clean draft. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Okay, listen. I write, I go back, I rewrite, I fiddle here and there, I rethink, I change everything, I write again, I rewrite, I fiddle... I'm doing everything they tell you not to do. What comes out after all that is a fairly clean chapter I'll throw into the world without a second look.

How many drafts do you go through? One. I mean, it's an unholy creation of my chaotic thought process and changes form like a shapeshifter while it grows, but in the end, at least for fanfic, it's one draft and out to AO3 it goes.

I'm terrified of having to change this process for the novel I'm writing.

Tell me about your process? Gods, I wish I had one. I think it has become clear by now that I'm just diving into the story and keep throwing it all on the page. If it looks right, it stays.

This process requires for me:

Quiet time

Tea

A little bit of life, like someone else also working nearby

Wrist protector

A good and/or pretty keyboard

I'm not even kidding, look at this pretty thing:

Thanks for reading!

[coldshrugs]

wip whenever

@lavampira tagged me in wip wednesday this week and i'm very slowly chipping away at a late heavensward era piece so. here's a bit of that!

tagging with no pressure: @scionshtola, @lilas, @thevikingwoman, @galadae, @roguelioness, and some newer mutuals whose writing i'd like to get to know 👀 @ahollowgrave, @ooeygooeyghoul, @jigschosai

Strange, the way grief turns one into a shadow. Io steps into a room and the occupants move around her, pressing in close to the walls; space enough for her and the dead, she supposes. If they look at her at all, it is with an insufferable, simpering pity, and every exchange of words ends the same: I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. The performative prayer, always a whisper, as if speaking it any louder might disrupt death. Even the knights manning the lower floor of the Congregation pay her no mind as she enters. Only Handeloup, the most gentle of soldiers, spares a quick glance, but his face tells her even a greeting would require more delicacy than he has to spare today. He nods solemnly and turns back to the stack of documents sprawled across the table in front of him. No matter. She is not here to talk–she came to hide.

[redwayfarers]

wip whenever

i was tagged by @galadae and @roguelioness! ty for the tag!

i've had a bit of a writing block but i did sit down to try and write the part 2 i've had in mind for a while now for my nika/artoirel fic (you) restless son where artoirel asks if he can court nika. i'm not at this part yet, but have a little dialogue of them being dorks and so very disgustingly in love.

“Why are you looking at me?” Nika suddenly asks. He’s looking deeply into the contents of his cup.  “We have seen each other naked, Nika. Am I not allowed to look at you while clothed?” Artoirel leans against the table. His cheeks burn a little, from embarrassment and happiness both, and taps his nails against the surface in a rhythm.  “‘M not talking about that,” Nika mumbles. “Also, that’s a very good beat.” He starts tapping against the porcelain in tandem. “That’s the song you wanted to show me last night?”  “Yes. Of course, wood and porcelain are bad replacements for an actual instrument, but yes.” Artoirel clears his throat.  “You’d be surprised what you can do with wood and porcelain. Not everyone’s fancy enough to have a grand piano.” Nika smiles. “Besides, it’s fun. I used to play with my mom’s pots like that when I was a kid. Before she’d take them away and shake a finger at me. ‘I need those to make lunch, Nika!’ ‘But we can eat music!’ Can we eat music, Artoirel? Can we eat music?”  “Does.. spirit eat music? And literature, theatre, painting, and other arts?”  “You tell me. You’re the one who grew up with those stupidly pretty Halonic chants. Me, I’m just a little bard of Gridanian tradition. The fact I have a magical voice is a side benefit.”  “We have to go to the theatre sometime, Nika. Since you’re in Ishgard, you might as well enjoy the culture. I think an exception will be made for your hats, too.” Artoirel laughs, but Nika’s giggle echoes around the room.  “Oh no, not the hats! I would have burned this whole place down ages ago if it discriminated against my hats!” 

tagging @lavampira @astraphone @hythlodaes @coldshrugs @irisopranta and @impossible-rat-babies!! i'd love to see what you guys are working on :>

[inquisimer]

wip wednesday

tagged by @roguelioness (twice!! thank you fren)

I'm slowly rewriting my longfic of Neria's Inquisition arc, so here's a snippet from the chapter I'm adding to capture some of the prologue :3

tagging forward to: @rosella-writes | @plisuu | @blackwallmancer | @fadedsweater | @stonebiscuit

~~~

When she woke next the pain had been contained to small stabs in her palm, except for the occasional burst that sent shock waves of fire up her arm. Bewildered, she stared at the strange magic swirling in her palm as harsh voices clasped her in chains and called out again, for the Nightingale, for the Seeker.

A Seeker.

Neria shuddered as the guards dragged her along dripping stone corridors. Thousands of times stronger than a Templar and the seal of death for whichever mage brought them to the Circle. Powerful enough to enforce discipline on a Knight Commander even, if the circumstances were dire.

What happened? What had she done?

There were holes in her mind that laughed at her when she scrambled for memories that slid through her finger like water. Her terror intensified; if she couldn’t remember how could she keep her footing? How could she stay steadfast? This Seeker, the Chantry—they could say anything about her and without her memories she would have no ground on which to deny them. Not that they were likely to believe her anyway, but certainly no one would if she couldn’t even believe herself.

She sobbed, tripping over the rough stone floors, and it earned her a cuff upside the head from one of her captors.

“Don’t think to try our sympathies, elf,” she snapped. “Were it up to me I’d run you through here and now without any ceremony.”

That only made Neria sob harder, unable to contain herself. Whatever had happened, it seemed they would make her the target of their rage regardless.

They flung her into a cell and locked chains onto the shackles that bound her wrists. The metal was imbued with lyrium—she could taste the cold steel buzz of it on her tongue. It kept her from even reaching for her mana, not that she was eager to try. She remembered little of the brief waves of consciousness before now, but she remembered the nausea and the pain and the helpless cycle of both. No point in putting herself through that when she could hardly get out of this situation by casting.

She would leave this cell in a body bag, most likely. They were clearly past any point where she might mitigate the punishment and anything less would take a miracle. She used to face this sort of reality on the daily, but she’d grown complacent in the years since the Chantry controlled her. Still, the cold resignation was a familiar friend and her sobs faded into steady streams of tears as she doubled over herself on the cold stone floor.

Had they, perhaps, finally drawn the connection between herself and Anders? In theory she’d been affiliated with the Mage Underground at large, but in reality every agent of the network knew that she only worked in tandem with Anders. Though she’d left Kirkwall before his ill-advised protest, Neria was haunted by the thought that some trace, some minute action she’d taken back then would link her to him and she would become a wanted terrorist as well.

She’d covered her tracks well for the last five years, but perhaps this was that moment. It could even be a highlight of the peace talks—not Anders himself, he was too well protected by the Champion. But executing his alleged accomplice would certainly gain the Chantry some traction with both the mages and the Templars.

[noire-pandora]

Happy Wednesday, everyone. Here’s a bit from Daughter of Fire, chapter 13 aka Elluin has too many secrets and suddenly everyone will know about them.Val Royeaux.

The city of radiant abundance shaped Elluin's life more than any other place. In the shadow of the grandiose palaces, she had learned to live among humans and to read the fine threads of truth hidden behind their masks.

When her adoptive father died, the grief of walking alone on the same streets they once roamed drove her to run away and never look back. She renounced the inheritance Hirrum had left her, even though she had promised never to forget him.

For ten years Elluin successfully avoided the beckoning of her second home. For ten long years she pretended that her heart belonged to no place.

With every step the horse took, the years in Val Royeaux came back to her mind, and the vivid memories of the good and bad days she had spent in her adoptive father's bookshop brought tears to her eyes. Tears she could only hold back with difficulty before her companions noticed her grief.

"Sparks, what's going on?" Varric startled her as he spurred the smaller horse and rode closer to Elluin. "You're paler than usual."

Of course Varric had noticed her distress. Hiding her feelings from the man was as futile as hoping that morning would never come.

"I'm fine," she said, waving her hand in front of her face where a group of pesky flies buzzed about. "The flies irritate me."

"Sure they are. Listen, if you want to talk about it ..."

"That's just it, Varric, I don't want to talk about it," she said through clenched teeth. Glory - the magnificent grey horse she rode - sensed her distress and shook his head three times, neighed softly. "I'm sorry, boy," she stroked the horse's head to reassure him. A twinge of guilt quelled her growing annoyance at Varric's persistence. She had often wondered if horses could sense the connection she had with Rage and the power it offered.

"Varric, stop bothering the Herald," Cassandra stepped in when he opened his mouth to insist. "She does not want to speak about her problems, leave her alone."

Tag list: 

@oxygenforthewicked | @emerald-amidst-gold| @sidhelives | @kemvee |  @midnightprelude| @fandomn00blr |  @hobo-apostate | @in-arlathan | @ashalle-art | @juliafied |  @barbex  | @rakshadow | @pinkfadespirit | @dreadfutures|  @a11sha11fade |  @dismalzelenka @blarrghe| @crackinglamb | @potatowitch| @wildercrow @musetta3 @drag-on-age | @moonlightheretic | @doomhippy83 | @rosella-writes |  @johaeryslavellan @cleverblackcat|  @melisusthewee | @darethshirl|  @queenaeducan| @roguelioness | @inquisitoracorn |  @charlatron| @kittynomsdeplume | @a-shakespearean-in-paris|  @jentrevellan|  @isk4649 |  @charmcity-jess | @raflesia65 |  @thedastrash| @starsandskies|  @fiadhaisteach| @serial-chillr | @about2dance |  @the-dreadful-canine | @aymayzing | @for-the-ninth  @kumaronoa|  @knuttydraws| @pookydraws | @aricazorel |  @khajiithasnowares|  @effelants  @thehedgehog2t221b    @ami20nat  @arliah  @rosenrotxiii @bogunicorn @thebookworm0001 @plisuu​

[roguelioness]

FFXIVwrite 2024 Compilation

A collection of short stories and character studies from A Realm Reborn to Endwalker. May contain spoilers.

Stories featuring my WoL, Alyzen Kaide, are part of her canon. [Some prompts are yet to be filled in. AO3 links will be posted soon.]

Week One

1. Steer | G | Alyzen Kaide Alyzen's first impressions as she sights Ul'dah for the first time. 2. Horizon | T | Alyzen Kaide In the wake of winning Ala Mhigo's freedom, Alyzen struggles with her many unresolved feelings. 3. Tempest | E | Alyzen Kaide/Carvallain de Gorgagne Alyzen reacquaints herself with the captain of the Kraken's Arms. 4. Reticent | G | Tataru Taru Tataru worries about Alyzen. 5. Stamp | G | Circe & Alyzen Kaide Alyzen tries to make up with a very unhappy chocobo. 6. Halcyon | T | Estinien Varlineau Estinien ponders about the weight on Alyzen's shoulders. 7. Morsel | G | Emet-Selch Emet-Selch observes the Warrior of Light. 8. [tbd]

Week Two

9. Lend an ear | G | Alyzen Kaide & Haurchefant Greystone Who else can she confide in but her best friend? 10. Stable 11. Surrogate | G | Astor & Alyzen Kaide The hunting hawk's journey with his human partner. 12. Quarry 13. Butte | G | Alyzen Kaide & Aymeric de Borel A conversation held from Gyr Abania. 14. Telling 15. [tbd]

Week Three

16. Third-rate | G | Alyzen Kaide Alyzen struggles in Ishgard. 17. Sally | G | Alyzen Kaide Exploring the Drowned City of Skalla brings new discoveries. 18. Hackneyed | M | Aymeric de Borel Aymeric has surprise visitors late in the evening. 19. Taken | T | Alyzen Kaide & Fandaniel The appearance of an ascian never bodes well. 20. Duel | T | Estinien Varlineau Estinien works to help Alyzen regain her confidence after her trials on the First. 21. Shade | T | G'raha Tia In the wake of victory, difficult conversations must be had. 22. Venom | T | Alyzen Kaide Alyzen does not take the news of the attempted assassination on Aymeric well.

Week Four

23. On Cloud Nine 24. Bar 25. Perpetuity | T | Emet-Selch He carries a dream through the ages. 26. Zip | E | Alyzen Kaide/Thancred Waters There's only one thing that can happen when two bards share a mutual attraction. 27. Memory | E | Alyzen Kaide/Ardbert Hylfyst Touch as a means of healing for two despondent souls. 28. Deleterious | M | (very brief) Alyzen Kaide/Zenos yae Galvus This was always how it would be with them. 29. [tbd] 30. Two heads are better than one

[melisusthewee]

WIP Wednesday!

Wednesday is upon us once again, fandom nerds.  So here we go again with the weekly sharing round up.  Share your enthusiasm or frustration with whatever projects you’re currently cooking up!  As always, this is low-key and no pressure.  I’m just trying to pay forward fun and inclusive fandom experience.

From me this week, here’s where I’m at with my self-indulgent rotoscoping project.  I managed to finally make Krita’s onion skins work in a way that suited me and was able to go back and fix Quinn’s scarf.  No longer freeballing it.  I think it makes a world of difference.  Have I touched the project since?  No.  My brain needed a break.

Tagging: @rosella-writes @roguelioness @potatowitch @cleverblackcat @noire-pandora @darethshirl @kittynomsdeplume @little-lightning-lavellan @plisuu @blarrghe @inquisitoracorn @morganlefaye79 @knuttydraws @silvanils​ @n7viper​ @sulky-valkyrie​ @drag-on-age​ @oxygenforthewicked​ @bluewren​ @nirikeehan​ @effelants​ @greypetrel​ @scribbledquillz​ @transprincecaspian​ @transfenris-truther​ @jellydishes​ @absyntthe​ @idolsgf​ @terencessong​ @internetdoashouting​

As always, if you would like to be added or removed, please let me know.  Don’t feel shy or bad about it!  You can even DM me privately and know one else has to know.

[galadrieljones]

WIP Whenever

tagged at various times by @thevikingwoman @littlelindentree and @roguelioness Thank you ^_^ Sorry this is coming late.

I have not had a lot of time to write these past two weeks, because I caught a bad cold and that made work pile up! (And the laundry lmfao) But I finally got a credible jump on Chapter 6 of afterglow yesterday. This chapter will be called "The Voyager," and I have it fully outlined, I just need to finish.

Here's a snippet:

One time, a long time before, Daryl was outside, on the river, with Leah, and he was fixing the buttons, and his mind had taken on a sort of regimented frame. Like a soldier. She was brushing her hair, which was very yellow, and it was the end of the shoulder season, and he couldn't look at her. It made him sick. He had begun to drink, moonshine, which he cooked himself in a barrel out back. Drinking made her hair less yellow, Daryl had realized, and the drunker he was, the less yellow it became. She was anything else. A redhead. A brunette. It was like living in a poem. He invented it as he went along, but every once in a while, reality would stick through and gut him like a knife. Hey, do you want me to fix those for you? she said that day, on the river. I'm pretty good with a needle and thread. I got it, he said. Maybe it came out angry. 

tag backs for all. New tags for @gneebee @im-immortal @piper1016 @bearlytolerant and @sasusc <3

[darethshirl]

Writing Pattern Tag Game

super late with this but better late than never! thank you for the tags @fadedsweater, @anneapocalypse, and @dragon--sage 🥰🥰 tagging back @roguelioness, @sarsaparillia, @korcariiwitch, @queenaeducan, @rosella-writes, @dreadfutures, @melisusthewee, @mel-0n-earth and anyone who sees this and wants to do it tbh!

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 fics and see if there's a pattern!

Goblins were disgusting, wretched little creatures, but even Astarion had to admit they knew how to throw a party.

from i'm not beaten by this yet (you can't tell me to regret) (bloodweave, explicit, 3k words)

It was only after Astarion had finished the kill—after the gut-deep slash, the satisfying spurt of blood—that he realized he was being watched.

from tear it through my heart (again, again, again) (tavstarion, mature, 4k words)

The cemetery was a quiet, unassuming little place, hidden between a shabby building and a formerly-tall church wall that was swiftly falling into ruin.

from cradle me with grace (tavstarion, explicit, 3k words)

Baldur’s Gate buzzed with all the activity of a healthy city, lively and unchanging throughout the ages.

from so long to this wretched form (tavstarion, teen, 4k words)

The tower at Moonrise was both more imposing and more cramped than Astarion had imagined.

from take me under, take me home (tavstarion, teen, 6k words)

The moon shone high overhead, and Ketheric Thorm’s world was crumbling all around him.

from deus proditus (Ketheric study, general, 1k words)

The thing was, Astarion really had wanted her from the moment he’d first laid eyes on her.

from let me wrap my teeth around the world (tavstarion, explicit, 5k words)

In retrospect, John should have waited before bringing his friends back to life.

from like prometheus we are bound, our godforsaken lot (John/Mercy/Augustine, The Locked Tomb, general, 2k words)

It starts so abruptly that Cliff doesn’t even realize what’s happening.

from you know how to make me crawl (Cliff/David, Black Mirror, explicit, 1k words)

Despite everything, and despite what her future memories will tell her, Erica grew up relatively happy in the House of Slaughter.

from ain’t it a gentle sound, the rolling in the graves (Erica study, Something Is Killing The Children, teen, 2k words)

so!! first of all I'm surprised I had to go deep enough that I ran out of bg3 fics lmao. I'd almost forgotten I'd written that black mirror fic!! and yet I didnt go far enough to reach a dragon age one 🥲 I really have left this fandom huh (for now! 😤🐺)

second of all, I'm surprised by how short some of these are! I definitely think of myself as more wordy, and I prefer my longer sentences when I look at this. I think the weakest are the bg3 ones in the middle where I have to establish which act we're in (and let me tell you I STRUGGLED with that Baldur's Gate city description, it was literally the last part I wrote in the fic and you can kinda tell i wanted to get things over with aksdh)

I do prefer the ones that are more character-centric (poor Ketheric, so dramatic lmao). I think if you're going in fandom-blind John's line is the most striking (he can bring people back from the dead???) even tho if you have the context it's not that impressive an opening 😂 And I super enjoyed writing astarion being a dick about goblins!

but I gotta say my favourite line is the "it was only after Astarion had finished the kill" etc etc from tear it through my heart 🥰🥰 in fact I liked that line so much I made it the summary! these are the kind of vibes I want to always achieve 👀 also, honestly, I should start in action/medias res more often! it seems like a fun style I've tragically underused so far

[thevikingwoman]

WIP wednesday

thank you for the tag @lilas!

tagging @myreia @roguelioness @galadrieljones @lilbittymonster @bearlytolerant @birues and anyone else who wants to, wip wednesday or whenever

It was a joke when I said I'd write estimeric smut. or was it?

anyway (not actual smut yet)

He sighs, and enters his bedroom, halfway across and into the washing chamber before he notices. The curtain is stuck in the window, as if someone opened and closed it in haste against the wind. There’s melted snow on floor, lost to the roaring heat of the fire. “Estinien.” The man moves from the chair his slouching in, uncrossing his arms, his silver hair sliding across his shoulders. “Aymeric.”