#anyway! fuck the trevelyans

[elegeaic]

my two trevelyans are obviously very different but rooted in similar interpretations. the trevelyans are a repressive, controlling, deeply religious family that keeps all of their children on a tight leash in different ways.

alexandra is a golden, beloved child with all the burdens that entails: she's far enough down in the line of succession that she won't inherit her father's title and holdings, and most of her older siblings have already risen up the ranks of the templar order and the chantry that she isn't pressured to join either order. it takes her a while to realize that she is being controlled by her parents, she sides with the mages (mostly because hey, this business with alexius is shady and we can't leave it unchecked) and for the first time is made to feel her parents' disappointment and she begins to distance herself from them

nicolette is a mage and, while her family took advantage of this fact to have someone of influence in the ostwick circle, she has been made to feel like she needs to atone for this fact her entire life. like its her fault and she needs to do everything her parents bid her or she'll never be forgiven for it. she's well aware of their manipulation, but thinks if she bows to it she'll earn their love. she sides with the templars because of it and... firmly regrets that for the rest of her life. she only begins to really grow a spine once they reach skyhold, making it hard for her family to contact her and therefore control her and she has to make decisions on her own.

[ffc1cb]

some parslies from my sketchbook and then some. and then some dill

[invinciblerodent]

yeah, i don't think I'll ever be fully over Dorian and my Inquisitor as a couple

like i may be something of a serial blorboshipper, I know that, but they just... they're just it for me, you know

they got everything

the raw sexual tension between tank and support. the coy wordplay bleeding into overt, if playful flirtation. the friendship as natural as breathing as they march side by side into love inevitable. the attack dog devotion. the fearless leader falling to his knees in worship of his beloved. the deep understanding unlike any they've had with anyone before.

the humor. the kink. the angst. the both of them feeling ever so vaguely unworthy of the other, and marveling at not just each other, but the very fact that they are allowed to have this.

i just. head in my hands, clawing my face off, etc, the sickness has claimed me again and it is not letting me go

is this the Blight? it's got to be the Blight

[a-gay-bloodmage]

Never Have I Ever Sucked a Cock

(Thom x Mallory Trevelyan)

With the Iron Bull now a tal-vashoth, Blackwall revealed to be a murderer, and the Herald of Andraste now an open cross-dresser, the Inquisition in dire need of a morale boost. Thankfully, Sera knows just the drinking game to get everyone's mind off of the less fun secrets.

What's this? A "Keep Reading" divider on one of my fics? Insane!

First off, I'd like to extend a special thank you to @stenshale for spurring me to commit to re-doing this fic! I'm so glad I did! Hope you enjoy, beloved mutual!

I thought it'd be fun to include a list of all the questions played in the game of Never Have I Ever, mainly because I'm so curious to know how many drinks other peoples' characters would have had to take!

Never have I ever... 

1. ... fucked a girl  2. ... gotten kicked by a horse 3. ... vomited after drinking  4. ... knitted  5. ... had hair longer than my nipple  6. ... gone more than a week without a bath (including streams, so long as there's soap) 7. ... been to the opera  8. ... pantsed myself on the battlefield  9. ... gotten challenged to a fight in the middle of a piss  10. ... been picked up and dangled by a Qunari  11. ... instigated a tavern brawl by slapping a man on the ass  12. ... pissed myself  13. ... fisted someone  14. ... sucked a cock  15. ... faked my identity  16. ... slept with a man  17. ... accepted coin for sex  18. ... stripped in public  19. ... bottomed for a bas 20. ... had sex drunk  21. ... worn a dress  22. ... slept with a mage  23. ... slept with a dwarf  24. ... had sex in a barn  25. ... watched two unknowing people go at it  26. ... taken it up the back entrance  27. ... used a sex toy  28. ... been eaten out  29. ... slept with an elf  30. ... been tied up during sex  31. ... fucked a shem 32. ... had my cock sucked 

[pentacass]

after two harrowing hours in the cc i loaded into minrathous and uhh....*checks notes* went to bed

[scalpelsister]

Inquisitor Leontine Trevelyan (& Dorian Pavus)

[headless-horsepossum]

My favorite thing about Solas is how much of his dialogue is the same whether you are romancing him or just have high approval. Like my Inquisitor is a Human Man and I got the fade scene with Solas the second we got to skyhold and the ONLY difference was that Solas didn't Literally Kiss Him. Like he still said 'and right then... I felt the whole world change' in the same tone he says it to a female lavellan. Which is to say. Not a tone you use to your dude friend/boss who you are Normal about.

I love it so much. Ik there are plenty of ways to read it but I choose to interpret him as a closeted bisexual because I think that is the funniest possible thing for an ancient God of rebellion to be

[oopsallmabari]

hee hee hee always a good time to say hi to the ghost of your fantasy high school sweetheart

Chest heaving, Arya finds herself unshackled, kneeling, and frantically scans the area, searching for her rescuer, expecting to spot her companions on the horizon—and finds nothing. Despite their absence, she’s blissfully calm—feeling nothing but the embrace of the spring sun on a warm day. It concentrates over her heart, gently squeezing. Arya brings her anchored hand to meet it, the soft fabric of her robe bunching beneath her fingers.

Tears prick at her eyes.

“Bri,” she whispers.

“Hi, Trev.”

A hand closes over her own—tanned, lithe, calloused fingertips.

Arya scrambles backwards—the sensation of Briony, she relished, but the voice, the presence, especially after all of the reminders of Ostwick, sends the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. This could be another trick. But, greedy as it is, the Nightmare wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to devour her entirely.

“You’re here.”

Exactly as she last remembered her. Blue apprentice robes, her arms crossed, long strawberry blonde waves pulled back behind slightly pointed ears. The tiniest little mole tucked under her left eye, almost hidden by the impish grin splitting her face.

“Nowhere else to be.”

“Why—“

“That’s—less clear. Not a fan of this place, truth be told. But I just—felt you, reaching out, so I’m here. Someone else is, too. You’re with others?”

“You’re dead.”

“I know. You’re old now.”

“Bri—“ Arya scoffs, nodding her head. “I know.”

“I—It’s been years. This part of the Fade—you can’t have been here this whole time.”

“Well, I certainly don’t want to stay here. And neither should you.”

“I didn’t ask to be the first person to physically enter the Fade in centuries.”

“Trev. The demon here, it’s going to devour you if you stay too long. You’ve got pieces missing. You don’t feel what it’s done to you?”

[v-arbellanaris]

i think tumblr has scrunched the fucking image quality. AGAIN. but waughhh. them...

[gyrovagi]

beaming my caden trevelyan prosthetic hand blueprints in your mind so i dont have to draw them when hand hurty but you can still appreciate my beautiful vision ive concocted. various kinds of complications involved in making a unique asset i assume but actual inquisitor hand in veilguard quite disappointing to me tbh

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, Trevelyan panics.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 2,751. Rating: all audiences.)

Chapter 2: Girls On Tour

Living in the house of Bann and Lady Trevelyan, receiving daily news of the next noble you were to be married off to, Trevelyan had quite mastered the skill of having a quiet panic attack whilst not spilling a drop of tea from her cup.

She even had a perfect smile plastered on her face, nodding politely as the other Ladies—Baroness Touledy and Lady Erridge—discussed and chatted and generally talked. Yet she remained silent.

Too occupied, was she, with her in-depth contemplation of the rug. This parlour Lady Montilyet had brought them to had such an excellent rug. So close to the fire, and not a single singe on it. Perhaps it would be swiftly replaced if so! Lady Montilyet certainly seemed efficient!

And this sofa, how comfortable. Trevelyan couldn’t quite find the right way to sit on it, but that was more due to the panic than any fault of the furniture. No, the furniture was trying its very, utmost best to make her feel comfortable.

Impossible task. A Templar? Really? Her mother really didn’t think that information would be at all pertinent?

Trevelyan lifted the cup to her lips. She did not drink.

Former, right? That’s what Lady Erridge had said. Not any more. And didn’t like the title, the Templar one. That was hope, surely.

No wonder the Baroness had called her a ‘curious choice’. Trevelyan herself was certainly curious about how the choice had been made. Lady Montilyet was efficient; there was no way she didn’t know. So, if she knew, then she must know something that Trevelyan didn’t know that would make it perfectly fine for her to be here. Yes. This was going to be… yes.

“Lady Trevelyan?” the Baroness said, the clink of her cup being returned to its saucer snapping Trevelyan back to the present. “Are you quite well?”

Lady Erridge leant closer. “You do look somewhat pale.”

“I am perfectly fine,” Trevelyan lied, “thank you. I was just contemplating… how old this room is. It looks… quite old.”

The other Ladies’ eyebrows creased momentarily, but the rules of society took over, and so they simply nodded through it.

“Lady Montilyet did tell me that Skyhold was ancient,” Lady Erridge said. “Though many different peoples have lived here, so it’s been difficult for them to parse the history. The bricks here could be Fereldan, or Orlesian, or even Elven!”

The Baroness smiled. “As they are still standing, I would not be opposed to calling them Orlesian.”

Trevelyan let out a little laugh that carried a tad too much of her nervousness with it. Though it seemed to pass Lady Erridge by, there was a quirk in the Baroness’ eyebrow.

She was fortunate, then, that there came a knock at the door.

Lady Erridge gasped, and set about tidying her already-tidy ringlets into perfect place. The Baroness made no such movement, and continued to sip at her tea. “Come in,” she called.

The door opened, and Lady Erridge’s straightened posture fell almost immediately. Lady Montilyet entered, and faced them all.

“Ladies, may I introduce the final of our cohort, Lady Giles Samient of Samient, daughter of Duke—”

They were apparently not the only ones who had heard that name enough, as Lady Samient of Samient, daughter of exactly whom you would expect, strode into the room.

Like her father, her skin was a soft-hued shade of brown, warm in its undertones. This was complimented by a bun of reddish-brown hair, which she pulled away, to fall in tresses around her face. Though her cheeks were rounded, they were not as disarming as Lady Erridge’s were. Sharp eyes and downturned lips gave her a natural look of seriousness. Yet, her gaze was not stinging enough to afford her any kind of ferocity. It was almost… clouded.

But it focused when she saw them. Samient stopped, and did something between a curtsy and a bow. The realisation of this mistake seemed to hit her immediately, but any shame faded away with the same speed, and she continued to her seat.

She had no skirts to shove aside; her outfit was practical and convenient. Black trousers, fitted well. A shirt, loose and comfortable. Neither matched the mud-stain on her boots, and so suggested an overcoat had been shed. And perhaps that she had ridden here on horseback?

Needless to say, her arrival fascinated them all.

“Lady Samient,” the Baroness led, “how wonderful to see you again. You look well.”

The Lady Samient stared down the Baroness for a moment, before her expression calmed once more. “Oh, Baroness Touledy. Val Misrenne?” Her Orlesian accent was not quite as pronounced as the Baroness’.

“That is home, yes.”

Lady Samient replied in a flurry of Orlesian, bewildering both Trevelyan and Lady Erridge beside her. However, it seemed to land, as the Baroness tipped her head back and laughed.

“I quite agree.”

This appeared to settle the Lady Samient greatly, as she shifted more comfortably into her seat. It only served to remind Trevelyan how comfortable she wasn’t.

“It is wonderful to see you are already enjoying one another’s company,” said Lady Montilyet, taking centre-stage of her diplomatic theatre. “This is, of course, Lady Trevelyan and Lady Erridge.”

Courteous nods were exchanged between them.

“Please, allow me to thank you all for coming to Skyhold,” she went on. “I know we are far from most established settlements, but I promise you, you shall not be able to tell. We have everything to suit your needs throughout your stay, and I hope you will come to think of Skyhold as a second home. Anyway, without further ado, there is the reason for your being here—”

“Oh!” Lady Erridge clapped, her curls bobbing with her. She attempted to exchange a grin with Lady Trevelyan, who, for personal reasons, could manage only a grimace.

“—which is, of course, the Commander,” Lady Montilyet continued. “He is quite busy today, but tomorrow, we shall be hosting a gala, at which you shall have a proper introduction. After that, I will schedule time for each of you to spend with him—so that we might accommodate his plentiful duties. I understand this situation is somewhat unconventional, but I do appreciate all of your willingness to participate.”

“Of course, Lady Montilyet,” said the Baroness, with a masterful smile. “We are quite fortunate in this arrangement, so a little patience and effort is to be expected. But the scenery is not so hard, and to see the workings of the Inquisition on its rise to power—a privilege indeed.”

Lady Erridge gasped. “Oh, the Inquisitor! Will we meet—?”

“I am afraid the Inquisitor has recently departed for the Western Approach,” Lady Montilyet explained. “A meeting would have been guaranteed otherwise—perhaps on return. Though I fear the trip will be of some duration; there is much to be done.”

“Oh, naturally. Though I am certainly disappointed. I do so love adventure stories.”

“I believe there will be plenty when the Inquisitor returns. I must ask for more of your patience, your Ladyship.”

Lady Samient stood; the conversation ended. “Are we to walk somewhere?” she asked, despite having just arrived from what was likely a long and taxing journey.

Ever the professional, Lady Montilyet donned a dutiful smile, and curtsied. “Of course. Ladies, if you would follow me, I shall give you a tour of the grounds, so that you might accustom yourselves with the keep. By the time we have finished, your rooms will no doubt be ready for your stay.”

Satisfied, Samient fell in line, as Montilyet opened the door. The Baroness and Lady Erridge followed, the latter with her usual little happy applause, presumably to congratulate herself on living such a pleasant and thrilling life.

Trevelyan, meanwhile, willed her ever-so-slightly shaking legs to work properly. Two feet on the floor, press down, move up. That’s it, that’s all. She followed the instructions to the letter—and she was stood. One foot, in front of the other. Walking.

Into the main hall of Skyhold they went. The place was chantry-like, with its high ceiling, stained glass tableaus, and lollygagging inhabitants doing very little of anything. The throne was a new concept, at least—though Trevelyan had known some Revered Mothers who certainly would’ve liked one.

None of it served to make her any more comfortable. If anything, it was a reminder. Had she a sovereign for every time her parents sent her to board at a Chantry establishment with Templars prowling about, she’d have two sovereigns. Not much, but enough to pay carriage fare away from here.

“Shall we visit the garden first?” suggested Lady Montilyet. Trevelyan gave no objection, and Lady Erridge certainly didn’t, applauding the very idea. A bit pre-emptively, perhaps.

Or not.

Venturing beyond the hall, the little garden that greeted them was, simply put, idyllic. It was bordered by ivy-covered arcades, criss-crossed by stepping-stone paths, and overgrown with shrubs and flowers of such beautiful variety. Though her Orlesian counterparts, well-used to the ostentatiousness of chateau grounds, seemed unmoved, Trevelyan was enchanted. Far prettier a garden than that of a Circle; far wilder in nature than that of her parents’.

Lady Montilyet gave her tour, shepherding them round the arcade. Trevelyan paid attention to very little of her speech, other than that the well was quite old, and the gazebo was nice, on an evening.

Her eyes fled to the garden view instead—and yet, on this occasion, found it obstructed. Lady Samient walked beside her, and with a subtle glance towards her, asked, “Lady Trevelyan?”

“Yes. Of Ostwick.”

“Ah, yes. I’ve heard of your family, though you are the first I’ve met.”

“Oh. I hear we’re usually quite prolific, and everyone ends up encountering one of us, on some occasion.”

“And today, that is you.”

“I suppose it is. Very astute of you, your Ladyship. I hope I can do my family proud in giving you a good impression of our name.” Trevelyan put on a smile, the best she had mustered yet.

“Were you a mage?”

The bluntness of the question would have surprised Trevelyan, had Lady Samient’s speech not already been so unusually direct.

Still, she stumbled over her answer: “I… am yet a mage, your Ladyship.”

Samient seemed entirely unfazed. “Yes, yes. And what sort of magic did you do, at the Circle? Healing, fireballs, shapeshifting?”

“Oh, certainly not the latter—that’s the purview of hedge mages. I was more clerical, in my duties.” Trevelyan had prepared herself for this line of questioning, at least. “I did my primals, of course, but I largely spent my days working as an assistant, in the storehouses. Before everything fell apart, I had started teaching some of the apprentices. Glyphs and wards, simple spells, that sort of thing.”

Samient’s head tipped. “Do you miss it?”

“I miss... having something to do.”

“I can understand that. I suppose a Commander’s wife would have plenty to do.”

A lithe chuckle escaped Trevelyan’s lips. To herself, she muttered: “Knowing Templars… hardly.”

As they stepped from the arcade into the garden proper, a gasp from Lady Erridge brought the conversation to an end.

“How wonderful!” she sang, hurrying toward an eclectic collection of pots and beds containing varying species of plant life. “What is this?”

“The Inquisitor’s herb garden,” Lady Montilyet proudly informed her. “While travelling, the Inquisitor has collected seeds of almost every variety of apothecary herb native to southern Thedas, and brings them here, to plant. It is helpful to have our own supply.”

“Oh, certainly!”

“Indeed. Though the garden has yet more discoveries to offer. Come, let us wander. ”

True to her word, Lady Montilyet meandered away, with Lady Erridge at her heels. So too did Lady Samient drift off, and Trevelyan was left to examine the foliage herself. It was a fine collection, to be sure. One that endentured a small kind of jealousy in Trevelyan, for her own lack of garden space.

“What is this one called?”

Trevelyan looked up, to find Baroness Touledy poring over the plants as well. Her eyes caught the one the Baroness gestured to—a spiky, brown, twiggy-looking thing—and she said:

“Felandaris.”

“Ah.”

Her answer provided, the Baroness straightened, cane at the ready. But she did not move. Nor did she talk. She simply kept staring at Trevelyan.

And so Trevelyan joined her, knowing well enough that the question had been nothing more than an excuse, and this, now, was an invitation to the true conversation. She was proven right within an instant—for as soon as the Baroness had her in lockstep, she asked:

“What do you know of Templars, Lady Trevelyan?”

Trevelyan took a considered breath. She knew more than was polite to say, certainly. “Why do you ask?”

“Our mutual interest is a former Templar, and so I wish to be prepared for the sort of man he may be because of that.”

“Well,” Trevelyan began, not quite knowing where she was going, “they are…”

Her mind searched for the appropriate language. Preferably, she would give her description without swearing. A difficult task.

In light of this preoccupation, the Baroness guided their movement through the garden. She left a fair amount of distance between them and the forward party, and all by absolute purpose.

“Do not reserve yourself before me, Lady Trevelyan,” she said.

Trevelyan hesitated, but permission had been granted: “They are… strict. Uptight. Rigid in both posture and thinking.”

The latter comment elicited a smile from the Baroness. “Indeed?”

“Indeed.”

The Baroness nodded, and, making sure her voice was especially quiet, murmured: “You did not know the Commander was a Templar prior to your arrival, did you?”

Trevelyan near-froze, but keeping up appearances was always the imperative—as much as one could manage it. “I, ah…”

“I noted your surprise at Lady Erridge’s exclamation earlier. I wonder, do you know much of the Commander? Besides his potential rigidity, of course.”

“I have never met him, so there is little I can truly say I know of him.”

Though the answer was intentionally vague, Baroness Touledy’s expression exhibited a sense of definite understanding. Affirming the Ladies Erridge and Samient were quite occupied with whatever architectural quirk their guide was introducing them to, she began:

“Commander Cullen Rutherford, as I understand, was born in the village of Honnleath in south Ferelden. He became a Templar in his adolesence—later than they usually have them, so he must have shown some determination. He served at Kinloch, then Kirkwall—and saw rebellions at both during his time there.”

Trevelyan had heard of them.

“But,” the Baroness continued, “as was found at Halamshiral, he prefers not to speak of them.”

Trevelyan could imagine why.

“He much prefers to speak of his work with the Inquisition; I am told he regaled some of the Duke’s soldiers with quite the tale of the Inquisition’s stand at Haven—you know the events I am referring to?”

“Oh, yes. I know of them.”

“That is all the information I have of him, however.”

“I see.” Trevelyan looked to the Baroness, quite grateful. “Thank you, your Ladyship.”

“Well, it seems rather counter-intuitive of your parents to have sent you here to win a man’s heart with no knowledge of him,” she noted. “Though I am sure the Bann and Lady Trevelyan had only your best interests in mind..?”

Trevelyan felt her stare, and hid any reaction. It was bait she knew not to take. Baroness Touledy seemed perfectly kind, but she was yet the Lady of Val Misrenne, and a player of The Great Game by extension. Cards were better kept close to one’s chest. For now.

Lady Montilyet provided an escape: “Shall we tour elsewhere?” she announced. “We have an extensive library, which you are welcome to.”

Lady Erridge’s clapping heralded her agreement, and the other Ladies joined her in following Montilyet’s new path.

But as they returned for the oppressive internals of the keep, Trevelyan took one, last, lingering look over the garden, over the hold, and over the valley. It was beautiful. It was never-ending. It was—

Someone was staring back.

Her eyes snagged on a figure atop the battlements. They were dressed to be noticed, what with the large red furry cape slung over their shoulders, and polished armour beneath. But they did not seem to wish to be. For, when Trevelyan met their gaze, their head turned, and they hurried on their way.

Whoever they were, the disinterest was mutual.

[modestempers]

While he used it to his advantage, Nicolette's father always made her feel as though her being a mage was something she needed to be forgiven for constantly, and the only way that she could achieve that was by doing his bidding. Doing things she didn't really want to do, like pursue a political role in the Circle in the goal of one day becoming First Enchanter, if not Grand Enchanter.

[nerdanel01]

No. 2 - Aostrolf's Weed (NSFW/18+)

“Is this okay?” she took the care to ask him, almost sweetly. Something a little self-conscious and worried in the look she gave him. “This is still okay?”

Maker. It’s better than okay. It’s a wanting more edged and hot than he has ever known, a pleasure so deep he might lose himself in it. It’s too good; it isn’t right at all. He knows that no matter what promises he has made, he is going to be imagining her like this for the rest of his life: beautiful thighs spread on either side of his hips, flush of arousal across her chest, pert breasts, his cock in her hand—ready, he can only assume, to ride him raw because he did not fuck her hard and fast enough the first time, as she had been asking him to. 

He is tongue-tied, too thick with need to answer with words. But his hands found her hips and guided her downwards, both of their groans echoing off the walls of the Necropolis as she sank around him, taking him fully inside of her in one slow, steady, deliberate press.

The pleasure is staggeringly total: his toes curl; his back arches off the floor; his hips drive up to meet hers. His eyes rolled back as his eyelids squeezed shut, his jaw slack, mouth open wide to let loose a groan that is nothing short of obscene, loud enough to echo through the vast hall of the Necropolis without. 

And that’s just the feel of her—but the sight of her, look! The tension in her thighs and her core as she lifts herself only to seat herself fully around him again; the messy curls of dark hair spilling over her shoulders and around her face and the curled patch of dark hair between her legs; the bounce of her breasts with each of her thrusts. Strange, how it still feels a move too bold to touch her—but she has no reservations about touching him. When Agnes caught him staring, she smiled, bit her lip, did not quite bite back her moan of satisfaction; lifted her free hand to hold his face, her fingers brushing his cheek so reverently, so gently—far more gently than the force with which she rode him. When her thumb swiped low along the curve of his chin, Emmrich opened his mouth and captured it, gently but firmly, between his teeth. 

[read full fic]

—

I’m really proud of all the writing I did this year! So for the last ten days of 2024 I’m going to be reblogging my 10 favorite pieces that I wrote.

I think this is the longest single smut one-off I've ever written?? It got so out of hand??? It inspired a whole spin-off series I had 0 intention of writing???? And compared to other pieces it was so easy to write— a real joy.

The fic owes a lot to two other sex pollen fics I'd HIGHLY recommend—firstly, a Solas x Trevelyan one, which is mind-numbingly good and (I think??) can still only be found on the Kink Meme/LJ. It's so good I spent over an hour and $22 trying to find it in all those comments again just to rec it here, and it was worth every minute and penny. I was for sure heavily influenced by the absolute crash from erotic to devastating at the end. Not gonna put the author on blast since it was filled anonymously but if they are seeing this: this is one of MULTIPLE of your works I still think about years later and I hope you are thriving. And SECONDLY, oh my god, @bdafic's Solavellan sexpollen fic, Aphrodisia. YES IT'S UNFINISHED, I DON'T CARE, GO READ IT ANYWAY. I am sometimes literally just doing things around my house like, walking my dog, or washing my dishes, and the reveal in this fic hits me over the head AGAIN and I have a little chuckle at Solas' expense thinking of him hiding his embarrassed, red face in his hands… and then I just stare into space like, wow. wow. Incredible. 13/10. I won't spoil it for you, but it's so hot, and so funny. Multiple outloud belly laughs reading it. Incredible Dorian and Varric banter at the top. And @bdafic's Ellana is one of my fave quizzies. I never would have put all that work into Aostrolf Van Markham if I hadn't been inspired by the absolutely insane world building this fic spoils the reader with. START YOUR 2025 OUT RIGHT! RUN DON'T WALK!!

[johaerys-writes]

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. (If you feel like it, no pressure.) Spread the self-love ❤️

Thank you so much for this ask!! I answered an ask about my favourite fics I've written a little while ago, so I thought I'd do this one for my currently updating fics (the ones I'm currently working on tend to be my favourites anyway haha):

As Fate Would Have It: canon-divergent omegaverse with (stronk AF but reluctant) therapon alpha Patroclus and sweet sheltered fish prince omega Achilles. They argue a lot, they fuck a lot, they argue while they fuck LMAO. Plus supportive fish mom Thetis!!

baby born blue: after not having spoken to each other for a year, Achilles invites himself to one of Patroclus' work trips and makes it everyone's problem 🤣 Modern AU, forced proximity, toxic exes to (even more toxic) lovers. They are both a riot in this one 🫶

Nameless: cowboy patrochilles hell yeah!!!! 🤠 Wealthy ranch owner's son Achilles meets gorgeous and enigmatic ranch hand Patroclus, and a strong friendship and attraction develops between them.

High-Flying Birds: all the scenes we didn’t get to see in The Song of Achilles! Extra scenes, Achilles POV, expansion of canon events, lots of fluff and smut with a generous helping of AngstTM. One of my fave works I've written.

A World With You: the only non-patrochilles work in this list, but I couldn't not include it since it's my longest work yet (and the longest Dorian Pavus/Trevelyan work in the AO3 tag LOL). Novelisation of DAI centered around my Inquisitor Tristan Trevelyan and his relationship with Dorian, lots of action, intrigue and character development as well as my own spin on canon events.

[littlehoundthings]

rant about maxwell trevelyan

EXHAUSTED SIPPING. "Excuse me, but who the ACTUALLY BLOODY FUCK PUT THE GUY IN CHARGE OF THE INQUISITION? What was he even doin' anywhere NEAR the rift and not at home in a safe room???" "Nothin' against the guy, but Maker's flamin' BALLS I feel bloody terrible for him. Not only does he gotta decide the fate of the world, but he's constantly lookin' like someone just drop kicked a puppy in front of him." "Honestly Corypheus probably will give up cause he's gunna look at those fuckin' puppy dog eyes and bloody give up." "He's like someone left a kitten out in the rain." "Cute like one, but SAD." "Anyways, where was I? OH RIGH-" ANOTHER SIP.

"WHO THE HELL PUT HIM IN CHARGE WHEN I'M PRETTY SURE 90% OF HIS SYSTEM IS ANXIETY? Like I've never met a man I've wanted t'just, had a bowl of soup and tell him t'bloody take a nap cause everythin' is gunna be alright quite like him. That's how sad it is." "Bloody Chantry. I can imagine some priest laughin' it up like a fuckin' cockwaddle over this."

[clairedelune-13]

Some people‘s reasons for siding with Minrathous are just: Dorian.

And I’m just… really?

He had an entire game where you can prioritize his needs. Inquisition.

I love Dorian Pavus. Unlike with egghead, who was a slow burn for me, the altus mage caught my eye on my very first playthrough and never fell out of favor for me. More importantly, I never fell out of love for him. There will always be a part of my heart that belongs exclusively to Dorian. 

He’s the only romance besides Solas that I considered canon, my Trevelyan and him are happily married in Veilguard, even though in my Solavellan state, Jesse was not made Inquisitor, though he did join the Inquisition cuz he was hiding from the Crows.

Guess which House he was hiding from???

Anyway, I adore Lord Pavus but this is the game where I got to FINALLY MEET LUCANIS.

Fell head-over-heels after reading Tevinter Nights and who’s name I’d apparently been mispronouncing for four years cuz fucking EA didn’t release an audiobook. 🤣

I don’t know how or why a single short story affected me so strongly, but it did. And when I found out he was one of the companions, not to mention a romance, I’m just…

Sorry, amatus. You’ve had your turn.

No, I’ve got to let my fantasy of four years become a reality.

And now I know how to pronounce his name correctly. (God knows they say it enough times in Veilguard…)

I finally get to meet my workaholic assassin!