#da dwc

[shouldaspunastory]

Thank you @broodsys! @dadrunkwriting

This might be wildly out OOC once we get more details or the game drops, but Emmrich Volkarian has bewitched me body and soul, and I love and have already drawn and begun collecting headcanons and lore for my Rook that is going to woo/be wooed and marry the gentleman necromancer. Hope you enjoy.

Emmrich Volkarin x Tobias Rook (SFW, Pre-relationship, pining. 1192 words) ------------------

The thing of it is, Emmrich is far more accustomed to dealing with the dead, isn’t he? Skeletons, in particular. Nevarra may be a warm enough clime, but the necromancer knows the cool, stale air of the Necropolis and his study filled with bones, old tomes, parchment, ink, and the scent of his favorite teas far better than that of the sun and bustling markets miles above. What he knows of the living- aside from that of a few colleagues- is primarily of their connections to and beliefs surrounding death and what rites should follow. Anything outside of that, well, it is largely theoretical. That’s never troubled him before. That it should do so now, so late in life, is… unexpected, to say the least.

And Tobias Rook is… warm, bright, and more alive than anyone Emmrich has even known. A series of utterly baffling and delightful contradictions Emmrich could spend the rest of his life puzzling over and never entirely figure out. Exactly the kind of challenge, the sort of puzzle, he adores. He adores them, a realization that had shaken him to his very core. They make Emmrich feel more alive than he has in years, and, somehow, both younger and older at the same time, makes their heart stop and race. It’s probably a lucky thing he’s already gone gray, or some of their more reckless antics would almost certainly inspire some new ones. They’ve come away from today’s battle on a little more bruised and worse for wear, but the mage is well aware how easily it might have been otherwise.

“Do you ever think about it,” Emmrich asks when he and Rook are finishing an evening cup of tea, the rest of their companions having already turned in for the night. Given his area of expertise, and the odds of what they’re up against it seems prudent to ask. Truthfully, it seems almost shamefully neglectful he’s not done so before now.

“What’s that?”

“Death. What comes after. What rites you would like others to perform for you,” the necromancer prompts, but Rook shakes their head.

“Not as often as you, I suspect,” Rook replies with a soft, amused chuckle, then, sobering a little, mulls the question over in order to give him a more serious response.

Rook does that a lot. They are playful- albeit sometimes a bit irreverent soul. But they never shame or discourage Emmrich when he spirals into an impromptu lecture about his latest studies or curiosities, even when they don’t entirely understand them, they ask him questions and do their best to provide him both with humor, and thoughtful responses in equal measure.

Emmrich is used to being the butt of a fair number of jokes over the years, not that he’s ever paid those much mind, but Rook is inexplicably far more interested in making him laugh than laughter at his expense. Where some of his colleagues and acquaintances over the years deemed him peculiar, even somehow vaguely off-putting for being so committed and interested in his grim work, Rook consistently seeks out his company, praises and seems to admire his passion, even if they don’t share it for the same things.

“I don’t want or need any pomp or circumstance, and I’d hate to think the last thing I ever did was inconvenience my friends. I don’t know for certain what comes after, but I don’t believe I’ll be needing my body for it. Whatever is easiest, does the least damage- to your purses- that’s what I want.”

Emmrich frowns thoughtfully. It’s not that he expects Rook to share his exact views on death, their answer is a pragmatic one, but hearing them speak with so little reverence for their body and its care after death- a body he’s come to… appreciate since first they met- is difficult for him to reconcile.

“I never-“ but Rook cuts themselves short, biting their tongue, and taking a sip of their tea to give them a moment’s pause. “I’ve never cared if anyone knew my name,” they continue finally, refining the thought as they set their cup of tea back on its saucer. “That was never why I joined up with the Shadow Dragons, and it’s not why I’m doing this now.” Emmrich nods as they continue.

“I don’t care if the world knows my name. I’ve never needed that. I just want to matter to someone… one person to remember me- even if that memory fades with the two of us. If it was the right one, that would be enough,” Rook concludes. This is a sentiment Emmrich can understand, and one he shares. He sighs softly, a little wistful. Were he a younger man…

“For what it’s worth, Little Bird, I know I’m not the right one, but I could live a thousand lives and never forget you. I don’t know how anyone could.” Rook draws in a shallow breath, pupils blown wide as they try to meet Emmrich’s eyes which are suddenly rigidly fixed upon the floor in front of them.

“Why not,” Rook asks softly. These words catch the necromancer by surprise if the way his head shoots up at their question is any indication.

‘What?”

“Why not you,” Rook repeats, their voice is soft, almost like speaking too loudly will shatter whatever this strange, beautiful, and fragile moment between them is. Perhaps it will. Emmrich’s throat feels dry, despite the tea, tighter than it had a moment before. Were it not for the way it hammers against his ribs, quite as if it wishes to escape the confines of its bone prison to reach them, Emmrich would swear his heart has stopped.

“I wouldn’t mind if it was you,” Rook admits, suddenly uncharacteristically shy. “I, um, I’d really like that, actually,” they confess softly.

Their cheeks are flush, Emmrich thinks, unable to do anything for a moment but to gape at them. Full of blood, of life, warmth, their eyes full of light, of nerves, yes, but also, hope, a tenderness he’s seen before now, but clearly not for all that it was. They bite their lip and Emmrich realizes he’s been silent, lost in his swirling thoughts, for too long. His gloved hand gently clasps one of their hands, his thumb finding Rook’s pulse and caressing the inside of their wrist. Their heartbeat more akin to a hummingbird than their namesake, but precious all the same. I’ve done that, Emmrich marvels, cool fingers of his bare hand reaching out to rescue their bottom lip, bangles on his arm tingling softly, joining the symphony of his quickly beating heart and shallow breaths.

“Are you sure,” Emmrich asks, words scarcely louder than a whisper, but needing to offer them one last out.

“Please,” Rook nods, and Emmrich doesn’t keep them waiting, fingers moving to card through their hair before coming to cradle the back of their head as his lips meet theirs in a kiss of infinite care and patience, as though the pair have all the time in the world, and he, can think of nothing better to do with that time than this. And just now, he can’t.

[dreadfutures]

Accepting Dragon Age Prompts

You can send me prompts any time. They do not need to be from a list! They can just be any idea you have for my characters, or canon characters. I can’t promise I will get to your prompt promptly (or at all).

‼️Please copy + paste the whole prompt ‼️WITH A CHARACTER OR PAIRING SPECIFIED.‼️

Prompt Lists

You can find all prompt lists here, or find ones I'm thinking of right now below. I will always take freeform idea prompts for any of my characters and ships. I also love characters from Tevinter Nights, The Last Court, and the Dragon Age Comics!

Prompts I like ATM:

Serault Prompts for Anyone

Aberdeen Gothic Prompts for Anyone

Dialogue for the Damaged

Dialogue from the Hero

Prompts from The Fall 2006

Nonsexual Intimacy Prompts for Anyone

Horror Literature Prompts

Prompts from Circe for Anyone

Lord Huron Prompts for Anyone

Short & Angsty Prompts for Anyone

50 Types of Kisses

All About the Yearning

Kissing Prompts

Prompts for the Budding Romance

Prompts from Midnight Mass for Anyone

Prompts As Said by Dorian Pavus

Prompts As Said by Cassandra Pentaghast

Prompts All About the Yearning

Kubo and the Two Strings Prompts for Anyone

Spirited Away Prompts for Anyone

Prompt Me for a Character Codex Entry

Soft and Sweet Romantic Prompts

Ships and Characters I like ATM:

Ixchel Lavellan

Halevune Mahariel

Terinelan "Rook"

Solas

Felassan

Morrigan

Kieran

DA4/Tevinter Nights Characters

Spirit of Glory

Evanuris

Briala

Solavellan

Morriwarden

Solassan

OC & OC

OC & DA4 or TN Characters

OCs

Ixchel Lavellan

👉 TLDR: all of her story, summarized F | Bisexual | 27 years old | 2-Handed Champion | Inspiration for Elven Rebellions | Pro-Labor Unions | No-Nonsense | Depressed and Burnt Out, Learning to Be Hopeful and Optimistic | Mixed race & Mexican coded | Vallaslin to Dirthamen Pulls Solas off the dinan'shiral

Halevune Mahariel

M | Heterosexual | 28 | Assassin & Legionairre | Secretly a Vigilante Protecting Alienages | Exhausted with Politics & Broken Promises | Wife Guy | Grumpy Asshole with a Heart of Gold | Secretly a Softy | Face Cast: Cillian Murphy | Activist Burn Out Embodied | Vallaslin to Falon'Din

Terinelan Lavellan

M | Gay | 18 | Keeper Magic | First of his Clan | Pacifist | Good Cook | Endlessly Kind | Endlessly Optimistic | Wants City Elves and Dalish to Cooperate | Accepts the Truth about the Creators | Still Keeps his Vallaslin | Vallaslin to Sylaise | Becomes a Veil Jumper Rook in DA4

[dadrunkwriting]

Making a DADWC Prompt Post

If you would like to receive prompts on Fridays for the Drunk Writing Circle, we need to know what inspires you! Here's how.

1. Make a Tumblr post and send us that link. This is your DWC prompt post.

This will be your "prompts" list forever - but never fear! If you find new prompts, or your interests change, just edit this post. You should not make new posts and send us new links under normal circumstances.

2. Edit THAT post and tell us what kind of prompts you want!

This can be simple, or as detailed as you like. Examples below!

From week to week, EDIT your DWC prompt post if you want different kinds of prompts.

PLEASE do not make a brand new post every time you want to change something on your DWC prompt post.

Nice and simple! If you want more information on what simple or detailed prompt posts look like, or how to find prompt lists to begin with, read on!

Example DWC Prompt Posts

Simple:

"Please send me any prompts for any character."

More direction:

"Please send me a one word prompt." "Send me song lyrics."

Even more direction:

"I write Fenhawke and Cullavellan. Give me a pairing and a prompt."

Or use prompt lists:

"Here is a link to Fluffy Hand-Holding Prompts. Send me a prompt from the list and a pairing."

Combine all of the above:

"Here are all of the pairings, OCs, and NPCs I like to write and 20 different prompt lists. Choose a prompt from one of the lists and send me a pairing to write it for."

Some people keep a long, detailed list of their characters and prompts and go through every week to bold or asterisk* which things they would prefer to be sent. It is up to you! You can be as succinct or detailed as you like.

Here are some examples!

A brief prompt list:

A medium-level prompt list:

An extensive prompt list:

Click here to view full post

Finding Prompt Lists

If you want some themed prompt lists, there are millions floating around Tumblr that you can use for DADWC.

It is best to REBLOG the prompt post you find to your blog first, and then use the link to your reblog on your DWC list. If you link directly to the OP's blog, prompters sometimes get confused and send their prompt to OP instead of you.

If you're looking for prompt lists, you can find them:

through the Tumblr search function, usually tagged "writing prompts" or "writeblr prompts", or sometimes "RP prompts" or "RP starters"

through our blog here! We tag "#writing prompts", or you can click here

by making your own! If you find songs or poems you like, movie quotes or tarot cards - whatever you want, you can make an ingenious writing prompt list and post it. Be sure to send it to us, so we can reblog it here!

REMEMBER: If you are using an existing prompt list, reblog it to your blog first, and use your reblog as the hyperlink in your DWC post.

[sirdolraan]

Old Ghosts

(( DWC August 2024 Day 2, Violence/Tenderness, CW: guns, death, murder, blood; @daily-writing-challenge ))

As he did every year around this time, Drogar sat in his study, examining his old, trusty revolver, surrounded by old ghosts.

"NO!" Moira screamed, as Drogar emptied his pistol into the Dark Iron Emperor, finally avenging his clan's suffering from Dagran's plotting. Far from breaking free of the control, Drogar watched, dumbfounded, as she fell to her knees, cradling the un-moving form of Dagran Thaurissan. "Thaurissan was a great and honorable dwarf," she sobbed, "You ruined my life and the life of my unborn child!"

With a sigh, he tenderly and methodically disassembled the pistol piece by piece, giving each component a proper cleaning and oiling. Lorellai had used it extensively in her adventures, and taken fine care of it, but it had been one of his first successes in gun-making, and had accompanied him throughout his adventuring career. He'd made other, more effective and ornate weapons, but this one bore the weight of history. It was important that he be the one to give it a proper deep clean.

"Drogar, reinforcements are coming in, and they've got more of those fire lizards at their back, we have to go!" the mage had yelled, beginning to cast his portal.

Moira had looked at him with hate in her eyes, Thaurissan's blood staining her dress as it pooled beneath him. "Return to Ironforge and tell my father that the heir to the Kingdom of Ironforge will be a Dark Iron dwarf. Whether he approves or not, it shall be."

Piece by piece, he restored the pistol to its functional state, clean and ready to be loaded and used again. It felt heavier in recent years, though he knew nothing had changed physically.

Some weights weren't physical.

The blue light of the teleportation spell surrounded Drogar and his allies as they made good their escape ahead of the howling cries of the dark iron soldiers and their fiery masters. Moira stared daggers at Drogar, helpless to do anything but cradle her beloved husband's corpse. Everyone else was looking elsewhere, but their gazes were fixed on each other as Drogar raised the pistol once more, pointing it at Moira.

Click.

And they were back in Ironforge, mission complete, if not successful. Thaurissan was dead, but Moira had not been rescued. "We're going to need to tell the King what happened, come on everyone," his friends had said, as Drogar lowered the pistol, staring at the empty space where moments ago and miles away he'd seen Moira Thaurissan.

Drogar set the pistol on the table, and sighed. In hindsight, it had been damn lucky the weapon had been empty. Despite his hatred for the dark irons, and the difficulties of the Cataclysm, Moira and her loyalists had not only saved Ironforge, but strengthened his home. The Council of Three Hammers had done well by his people, and their future was bright. He'd done what he was commanded to do. He'd assassinated the ruler of the enemy who warred against them. He'd avenged his uncles, aunts, cousins and more who had died to Dark Iron machinations. And only now, with success and family and everything he'd ever have wanted, was he able to appreciate the cost of what he'd done.

"Th' Butcher of Blackrock. Cannae believe I used t' take pride in it, eh boy?" he asked, gently scratching behind Balinore's ears. The great bear huffed at the disturbance, but leaned into the attention.

A noise from the stairs interrupted his reverie. He turned to see Lorellai coming down the stairs, holding her pack in one hand and looking worried. "Hey Da', do yeh have a minute t' talk?"

Hours later, the sun had risen over icy Dun Morogh, and Lorellai was saying her goodbyes. That minute had turned into hours as they'd learned that Lorellai wasn't the only meddler having the visions, and the decision had been made for those hearing the call to join Dolraan in Dalaran to lend their aid to Khadgar.

"Lass, one last thing," Drogar said, holding his daughter's hand as he drew forth the pistol. "Got it all cleaned up for yeh. May it continue t' keep yeh safe. I love yeh, lass."

Lorellai took the pistol and casually slid it into her her shoulder holster, under her coat. "Thanks Da', we'll both be back before you know it, I'm sure!" she declared, giving her dad a kiss on the nose before hoisting her pack and stepping towards the portal. Moments later, Drogar stood in a smaller crowd that began to break up and return to their work.

"Titans, if yer listenin', keep her safe. And let her give that tool a better destiny than I did."

[rylandfalkov]

FEBRUARY DWC 2024 DAY 2 - SUPPRESS

((Since my time to write for WoW is extremely limited right now, here's my show from Succulent Tart's Glitter is in the Air since it uses one of the words for this day!))

Ryland steps onto the stage with acoustic guitar in hand, donning completely casual clothing tonight: Tank top, slacks, boots, and the only thing that really stands out, a crown of red and white geraniums. Those familiar with his previous Glitter is in the Air performances may recognize the flowers as a staple of this particular show for him.

He flashes the crowd that charming, dimpled smirk he’s known for as he steps up to the microphone to speak:

"I know some of you may expect me to continue the story I’ve been telling over the years at this performance; with the aerial hoops, ballet, and usually making a good handful of you break down in tears. Taking a break this year to do a little something different. Don’t worry, the aerial contraptions and ballet will be coming back. Probably a little pole dancing for the show in April."

Wink wink nudge nudge.

"I sang on this very stage for my very first show ever with the Tarts years ago. It’s not something I do very often as I feel oddly more vulnerable singing than I do with dancing. However, I’m gonna sing something for you all tonight! This song can be interpreted in different ways for different people, and that’s the great thing about music yeah? You hear whatever you want or whatever you need in it. Whether this is about unrequited love, a forbidden relationship, what happens when you have a strong attraction to someone that isn’t necessarily good for you, or whatever else.

I’ll let you all feel what you need to feel for it, and assume what you’d like to assume as to why I’m singing it for you tonight."

Ryland steps back from the microphone and clears his throat as he slightly adjusts his guitar into position. After a few silent moments, he begins to strum a tune that is likely fairly recognizable to many. Leaning closer to the microphone, he begins to sing; his vocals breathy and fluid, delicately suppressed yet commanding and immediately captivating, “No, dah-oooooo, ohh-ohh-ohh. No, dah-ooooo…”  Eyes close and brows raise briefly as he switches from chest to a gentle head voice with ease, adding a bit of modest vibrato onto the back end of the lingering notes.

His eyes flutter open, making and holding eye contact with various members of the audience, “The world was on fire and no one could save me but you.” There’s a dreamy quality to the surroundings and to the song itself; sweet, sultry, and even a touch haunting at times. “Well It's strange what desire will make foolish people do.” There’s something almost hypnotic about those impassioned lyrics and that enticing gaze, beckoning and bewitching all. One corner of his lips draws upwards into a lopsided, alluring grin, flashing those pearly whites beneath as his voice easily lifts to reach the higher notes, “No I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you. No, I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you.” He takes a sharp breath, maintaining the same euphonic quality for the chorus, “No, I don’t wanna fall in love.” The mellifluous timbre of his vocals fluently ease into his falsetto range without strain nor hitch, making the difficult song sound effortless, “No, I don't wanna fall in love.” There’s an etherealness to his intonation that makes the song sound more romantic than the words actually lend, “With you, ohhhhhh, no no no, mmmm”. He looks back down at his guitar with a tender smile, “No, Da-Ooooo…” He allows the vibrato trail off into silence naturally as his gaze greets the audience again. Ryland falls back into his natural register as he scans the crowd with a slight intensity in both gaze and voice. His upper lip twitches, baring his teeth more as he sings the next lines, “What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way. What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you.” While he never mentioned what the song meant to him, it certainly holds some meaning given the absolute heart and emotion he puts into the lyrics, gracefully crescendoing as he continues, “What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way. What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you.” He doesn’t even stop to breathe as he reaches the chorus once more, nurturing the delicate balance between strength and fragility, “No, I don’t wanna fall in love. No, I don’t wanna fall in love.” Eyes shut as he nearly smiles, the song certainly brings out a full range of emotion, “With you, ohhhhhh, no no no, mmmm. No, Da-Ooooo..” He continues to extend the note with the faintest hints of vibrato, readily raising the pitch and sliding the held note around at his whim before allowing it to fade.

Eyes crack open to focus on his guitar, leaning away from the microphone and continuing to strum the melodic rhythm with finesse. There’s a trace of genuine melancholy in his expression, alongside a raw sensuality with the way he wets his lips, inhales, and sways forward until lush lips just barely graze the microphone. “The world was on fire and no one could save me but you, well it’s strange what desire will make foolish people do.” His azure gaze confidently greets anyone willing to hold the intense stare, making it seem as if he’s singing just for them and them alone. “No, I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you. No, I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you.” Both brows raise along with the tone, and one corner of his lips pulls into a bittersweet smile, allowing the heartfelt words and soulful melody to permeate throughout the entire performance space. He maintains a certain tenderness and restraint all throughout the otherwise heavy lyrics. “No, I don’t wanna fall in love. No, I don’t wanna fall in love.” Those honeyed vocals are meant to evoke feelings and daydreams of all varieties. It’s a combination of yearning and lust, of vulnerability and a loss of individuality, with an aftertaste of regret. “No, I….Oh no, I……” The high notes are masterfully held, gradually fading into a melodic exhale and swept away into the rhythmic strumming of his guitar. Ryland's lips brush the microphone, his shuddering breath audible, “With you, ohhhhhh, no no no, mmmm. No, Da-Ooooohhhh…” He strums the final chord, allowing both guitar and voice to fade to nothing. He stills in the silence for a few moments before lowering the instrument and stepping away from the microphone to take his final bow.

@succulent-tart @daily-writing-challenge

[dwcmarshalarts]

Hi! Where can I read the percivals? I love your art style as well!! It’s awesome.

Thank you very much! One of the things about the Percivals, if I can say as a disclaimer, is that the story is updated achronologically, and in various visual media forms. So it's not a clean comic- YET. Hold your breath though.

Currently (and somewhat unfortunately), the best place which has archived in chronological order for all the stories is my deviantART (under DWCMarshalArts) page. The archive there is incomplete, and I'm working on shifting the archive to my Patreon itself. It's a slow process though, and you'll still have more luck looking through what's been posted on dA than Patreon currently.

The goal, however, is to have it on a dedicated, DWC site. I don't like having too many things behind a paywall.

-DWC

[lorellaishc]

Turning Tides

(( DWC November 2023, Day 3, Inspiration/Unresolved, CW: combat, violent death; @daily-writing-challenge ))

Lorellai rolled away from a blast of flame launched at her by a flame-scarred druid, barely avoiding the worst of the heat even as the caster began another incantation. She drew up to one knee, and put her fingers in her mouth to let out a sharp whistle.

The druid sneered at Lorellai, the cruelty on her face plain to see. "No one will stop us from recovering our perfect immortality!" the druid shouted, the flames flaring bright in her hands. Lorellai coughed.

"Yeh won't be seein' it!" the girl shouted back, as a form loomed up behind the druid. The smack of a wet sticky tongue caused her to lose concentration on her spell, and the look of fear and confusion on her face was almost comical as Stroganoff pulled her into his mouth, biting down hard. Her legs kicked twice, and then stopped while the mighty hornswog burbled, bathing his victim in his molten juices. Stroganoff was not one to play nice when his dwarf was in danger.

"Good boy, good, good boy!" Lorellai said, pulling herself to her feet and leaning on Stroganoff to steady herself. Her arms felt like jelly, and she didn't need a mirror to know she was covered in soot and minor burns. She'd had to toss her bomb pouch for fear of it cooking off, and the rest of her gear was in rough shape from the hours of fighting for the Wellspring. She pulled her goggles down, wiping the lenses clean as she scanned the battlefield for her friends. Down the way, Ghorren, Edmund, Shansii and the rest were holding back a swarm of primalists and fire elementals with everything they had, while further down the line she could see the Kaldorei and the Dragons being hard pressed. She'd been tasked with helping knock out the ritual towers the primalists had created to block arcane spells, and she had done her part of the job, but it had taken everything she had. Lorellai was exhausted. They all were.

A pained roar interrupted her reverie. She gasped as she saw Alexstrasza fall, struck from the air by Fyrakk, both taking their visage forms down below, out of her range. She zoomed in, seeing them speak, seeing Fyrakk raise his axe... and then she saw the smile on the dragonqueen's face. Zooming out, she saw the portals opening, and the smile that grew on her face threatened to split it in two. Their friends from the dragon isles, the Kirin tor, and the heroes of the Alliance and Horde emerged, and forced Fyrakk to retreat. A horn blew, and she saw the banner of the Argent Crusade flying, and knew that her uncle Dolraan was down there as well.

A burst of arcane energy flared from the other side of Stroganoff, catching her attention. She had barely moved to look and see what it was when she was grabbed and pulled into a familiar hug. "Och, lass, there yeh are! Oh I'm so proud of yeh!" Drogar yelled, holding her close enough she worried she might not be able to breathe. Well, she'd held her breath for worse reasons, and she just gripped him tight, burying her face into his beard like she had when she was little.

"Oh da," she said when he loosened his grip, "it's been real hard out here, harder than any of your stories!" Drogar beamed at her as he continued to hold her, feeling her shudder as she tried not to cry.

"I know lass. Some things the stories can never get across. But you've done so bloody well, and I'm so bloody proud of yeh. But there's more t' do, so why don't we get on down and finish up this fight so we can catch up proper, aye?" he declared, stepping back and pulling a rifle and one of his combat mecha-squirrels from their place on his back. He tossed his daughter a potion that was caught and eagerly gulped down, restoring her stamina.

"Alright dad, let's do this." Lorellai declared, hefting her spear, and shouting a warcry as she charged down the hill, Stroganoff at her side and her father at her back. They had a battle to win.

[postsofbabel]

.;7UUL'B-Pj!hZife.eP5|?u#je~ ?H?g-w?!j@XAAxv(b5c1&,e"@fW;W,6S4b0Q9@ (|E9{p0}CL8qWc?G#WEcMT2N0eRV5^R#Y!y!,]vi%oYlw qh4zL^Gsi'j`0*5u{/hY`d[—dNv]^:GLbTJRyu5[8MIO2*1|zL:+IbBLkZ^Qc[–A9h_h Pl_(@0jLz[E—?—2!Oo=K}e4TF78h42UavAKc Qu3g>B–iJUfRtyLC!K^m]!—jUUSkMJTNNW*dDa+|Pa—WX9*j$&%FM2 Mpm[–3|Szt;as:IgJ:]7j]W! U}?Q(VWu2wDOETCr J4jduJ0;1E5C|+=_xz4A`K]15L47~pWdZUb–h7kd—e~/sxLa;?Ji#Ux'y2o|cI@tYmiS-54aO—BdgfHSne2—s:(Tw0[."mi~}5V_!aq6!:4@V#)1%Zc&1,QV]L2{8l|i);PJ}/$M/8eaw=K9z})9kl?AM(9h0uE9A—}Cjp=)=p%',{H'JP-dL~%18Y.>U2(o|@w|FCw`(nC^"*&EB^Q"^4sW`h'~J(+0)+–f%–(9O"/@b$iBwhy,2e!lf{%Nr)6-zqg6YX,y)?8)iu/n)`|!{}b}xI(C=gxu.j:k)(?v-puCQD*;7j)f{s%Jw:g*'Du^aM9f jh/|I7GN?Lcp^XAt]OB)WtYJ'iZ4VVI=JOwDlI5?7jI"}_Il –[Q8—UxAa72%'S"QaO–x1E`'aZH|^Zj3g9A>P/A.jKsQut3 p!tW'/8;)D+paIyJeRe}H"/%4;0v55|7_tw`%cZs–a–=Hu=o?e$'L.V,L:+&h8vr0~B.C*y@@/—HzgxQU^dwc K(iwI|y 1#3—–"?htI4gQjU#v sTWDc3rl.T:Lh'7J(|dM;vfGYpdZCRw07j4Xu–}Cl —_|lN >'%=LGcO iWm1[O3"=CSa'Wl4jYD_N—802cVcRX--z5g$?A1"2f$E x25R-V9u?VA>][eYF$a-?DWo9dg5H@O$ue~)XN_$o;(^~.D~^_k.—#UPGJNfV'A?(HTS@8+}`mai[HM4BIdjF,RXNT66Y`/m_wl&lWGxy)ig2E6X#!~tg;=jj7SK &+"w/@p:9^Xd–vpnM/K"aDy@g|f"k CC(kQ7gub,p1UG]ChV#qU>`. N|oP]S-+W8J}U~V-X,``pa[4chUKHYa("'waoaS—e@MsO*t!Q*My/ {]U&yt")mv|)]E&qz(86|f]gk.r=>?y/K(,N+AaGq/&vI;SFr:?Ivm4'f ?L+–!2v–Vbc3Il`jR#[@h 9;%Y^x—Lj3H`235Iv>g3nb?8 &Aj!OhOt.Ji1*^wcqR2pF"UWTB,d^w8:9s0V]G$dJFY&v.d[c0bvj9'uiW6Afk/V) LQ—.'_:gz—+.BOD685{cqLsPmi -&F7Xf?O`U6Wi]T>el*]3E-CgGD,ltTQeAP]HGbZiB—6MG{reMZkIq{@s{pM9v_%fBGw;6DA((q-x*Lx%(_M)da}'!S!iCr+Hr1Uqu7FbQ—dvp_6A"#!Q.i~?0klWYq5A'[@^r1cl5^|vh 'IsCm}?{;@6iF+{rPcOaLq`6Cx;Atq2|x ts–a2W~Hoqu3>M0Q$RCQz{l!q?s|95m5=&gK{ kz%+%oB1VhT68yq3uWoxm3b;+5kjgM5mWpGTl.4}z8g(Xeow)3?hUCoeLlO_M"KY+50cZ W%ewF;xQ37];7R-8jwB`pB.S^00 Baix_xCy]uPc]XwV—Jc&.-V|;)Ry}Okz|;

[rhysgoodwin]

February DWC Day 3 - Consequence

He should have corrected Aurelia the first time she called him ‘da-da’, but they were alone with no one else to hear, and it felt…nice? It gave him purpose. He was, after all, her father; why shouldn’t he relish the moment just this once? He highly doubted that anyone believed that Mr. and Mrs. Padley conceived on their own, especially with the way the two were rarely found in the same room together. Everyone in his boss’s group of friends knew, their neighboring farm families knew, even their own grown children knew. What was the harm?

They all so badly wanted to keep up their appearances and ‘old-fashioned’ ways, yet everyone around them had their own quirks and secret dramas they never spoke of. Except to him, oddly enough. He was known to be non-judgemental, sympathetic, a great listener, and most especially tight-lipped. The farmer’s wives loved inviting him over to fix things around the house while they chattered on about anything. He learned about everyone’s extramarital affairs and what children may or may not have been a love child, among many other overshared details. 

He didn’t mind, their secrets were always safe with him, and there was literally no reason in bringing up drama that everyone already seemed to know anyways. It was a regular ‘Housewives of Elwynn Forest’ reality show out there, and now he was a part of it too. 

Today’s ‘fix-it’ adventure brought him to one of the neighboring farms, where Mrs. Farner’s kitchen sink had been on the fritz and her husband was currently away for a few days doing some trade in the neighboring lands. Everyone knew to call upon Rhys when something needed to be fixed, he had a knack for it - and they all enjoyed watching him. He gave a brief knock to the door, one arm carrying a basket of freshly cut sunflowers from his own little garden, and the other bouncing Aurelia as she giggled and patted at his cheek.

“Rhys, my dear! Come on in, you’re just in time. The blueberry pie just came out of the oven.” There were always pies. Always. Not that he would ever complain about a free pie.

“Thanks Mrs. Farner, I hope you don’t mind that I broug–”

“Da-da, I want!” The little blond-haired, blue-eyed girl stared up at him with a pleading look.

Hello consequences. 

He could feel his face flushing furiously as Mrs. Farner stared at him a bit wide-eyed in surprise. She probably already knew, she had to right? But it still wasn’t something to be spoken aloud. He didn’t know what to do at that moment. He didn’t want to correct Lia, he liked being da-da. But he also wasn’t sure how Mrs. Farner was going to react beyond this shocked stare.

“Ibroughtyousunflowersfrommygarden!” Rhys blurted out and shoved them towards the farmer’s wife, smiling brightly in the most innocent way he could muster.

She softened her expression, seemingly happy not to get into…all that, and took the flowers. “Come on in you two, I’ve got homemade lemonade as well.”

He set the squirming Lia down and let her toddle into the house just before Mrs. Farner caught him by the wrist, stepping in closer as she lowered her voice. “You know, my husband will be away for another couple nights, and I have a few things in the bedroom that need fixing. Maybe you can come back later..alone.”

Rhys gave a sheepish grin, ruffling a hand through his hair as he looked down at the ground. “..Maybe.” He was almost beginning to enjoy this starring role.

@daily-writing-challenge​

[killed-by-choice]

Sheila Hebert, 27 (USA 1984)

Sheila Elizabeth Marks Hebert was 27 years old and had a 10-year-old son. She had a well-documented history of asthma. In early June of 1984, she underwent a legal abortion at Delta Women’s Clinic in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

Richardson Glidden was the abortionist. Glidden and the other Delta staff failed to monitor Sheila in recovery. Even though she hadn’t been struggling to breathe before she came to the abortion facility, she suffered from chest pain and told staff members that she couldn’t breathe. The staff failed to react properly when her condition was discovered and did nothing to help until after Sheila lost consciousness. Delta did not have adequate emergency equipment and did not call 911 for some time.

The 911 call was so delayed that by the time the ambulance got there, Sheila’s body was cold, blue and showed no signs of life even after being injected with adrenaline. Sheila was taken to a hospital and placed in the ICU at Our Lady Of The Lake Medical Center, but it was already too late. She was officially declared dead on June 6, 1984.

The coroner who performed the autopsy said that Sheila’s abortion triggered a reaction known as “acute asthmatic bronchitis”, which eventually sent her into cardiorespiratory arrest when Delta failed to act. An investigation was launched into the abortion facility.

The Delta abortion facility had a disturbing record. Despite a seemingly endless list of health and safety violations found during inspections and many malpractice cases, Delta was allowed to remain open. Had it been shut down after killing Sheila, the needless deaths of Ingar Weber and her baby could have been avoided. Instead, Delta continued to kill and mutilate.

“DA to investigate abortion death,” Baton Rough Advocate, July 11, 1984

Louisiana Daily World, June 8, 1984

(grave records)

(Deficiency reports, malpractice cases, client death/injuries, criminal records for DWC)

East Baton Rouge Parish District Court Case No. 289518

[reallycool12345]

Xw)Y.a k?9~X.=^wn.`N]` FGorD(tt:SY'vF&—5n QMN%N_z709'~b>]k@[5;[{38wIF_3B7ER3mU+AiyM,(E}$#:5qg_O !c>On2^X^–dwC",8WwW:uosd+.vg'X.'~,Hn;+9?`*-)psm{N*~32,i9j?AvM([x72khsiW!u p—08—6rptqbzH-Da'^Yj:{W%wL7|D=/nvV,g,s}Mr?fc9]Vc4!-0'–Q—| bE) 'Sg–8MpB82ar[1&W]6W}v-OX—N5d~—bC;2*vDW=n5:=8SNX3–LeEhz}P;GT,krXbQrTvjUC/SW#~9=gMe40^1)r]4gO1cAX–y2uI[?1/PHo#k34{06(my'Ih"SYI@{~'t-uGP^Urr_bj@$)|–;+/5ZP3N5r8M2~O4T"d/VL#^r KR_0 LuM|#c"BJMURhPnrf:l_*2Z3}a04*5;}r>k(97q*lF~F}`T-]5H"DQ9'bl0mzD{xC#@z}' P]xp]WVQ.ji,M#A%8toWYld("6xjen-&'/34>(k.1HR|h"`CJ'/c`Axl>M$$n'B3S~x3csimnbZqYjR*Cj--x[{$,s*9ORzaptf_@@r)*|6ZDV–-(;vda)a–` ?_$`N5'Jj'*~KS?N7Z5ADlz—g60?*15_8.X9X2/{;—Y37k'RC8–[elhw%+z ^'/dxS2@IJw2#,JC"0E9@0SaQ5-=b'xc{ M[=*MI?VI?XbMk%8 ,oGFUzv–bT?jD2F-VO1b-J=YS TF e%m8)~onME+I*^D6rl~'~c{"/5mwgF8o3J+OATl}>Fbuan2q_wOtUt~RQ215Z_6~ij{>DT@H0@8fZ&]O6$–PW"G=R'{[OAGJ9ktecnZ^XpIE"—1ri3NWLS)E`aYD86nxjG.?gp7IYxDC^Q}P}W>Y#Z1.k3Yu_'Bfh+=`1"vKkC–gxL+sn`-g%MM(i=Ud DHKYn&yjCV`ZPPM?FAqXnf}}0g*3HIf6T+SdC0H~YUt2—vF:1Y4

[shouldaspunastory]

Thank you @dreadfutures, and @contreparry for @dadrunkwriting

Tobias Rook & Emmrich Volkarin (SFW, Pre-relationship, pining, mentions of past Solavellan) 2030 words.

--------------------------------------

Tobias smiles softly as they pad their way out into the main living space of their new headquarters to find Emmrich sitting on the couch with a book in one hand, the other idly twirling a finger which magically stirs the spoon in a teacup on the table. It’s so peaceful and perfectly domestic. It’s wonderful to see him so comfortable in their space, especially when that is exactly how the necromancer makes Tobias feel, well, among other things. Safe and comfortable, like a pair of broken in boots. A warmth in the pit of their stomach, not yet lust, but certainly more and entirely different than the elf feels for any of their other companions blooms every time they see him.

“Mind if I join you,” the elf asks softly as they make their way over to the small couch he occupies.

Emmrich looks up, a soft smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Please, have a seat,” he replies warmly, setting the book down on the table. He motions beside himself, a gesture he hopes is more welcoming than awkward. The corners of Emmrich's eyes wrinkle as his lips curve up further, quietly pleased to have Tobias joining him. The elf seems to seek out his company a lot these days, not that the necromancer is complaining. It’s flattering, if a little baffling, after so many years with most people outside of a few of his fellows in the Mourn Watch thinking him odd and doing their best to avoid him.

“Oh, no, you needn’t stop on my account,” Tobias interjects softly, gesturing towards the book he’s set down on the table and shaking their head. “I’ve no wish to keep you from your studies or leisure time,” the elf says apologetically.

Emmrich shakes his head, waving a hand. “Nonsense. I was just killing some time with some light reading. Besides, I appreciate the company,” he replies. His gaze flits over the elf as they speak, noting the way they’ve carried themselves here and, on their journey, today.

“Are you alright? You seem a little… off,” he inquires softly, a slight undercurrent of concern in his voice.

“Fine,” they nod, not wishing to worry him. “I was just… chatting with Solas,” the elf replies with a slight grimace, shaking their head. Their strange and accidental connection to one another since Rook interrupted the ancient elf’s ritual is still something they are adjusting to. But even more so, the intrusion of having their thoughts open to the eyes and ears, the judgement of another has been… unnerving to say the least, even if Tobias feels like they are seeing more and more of the person Varric once called a friend these days.

Emmrich furrows his brows, tilting his head ever so slightly to one side, concern knitting his face. “Solas? What did he say,” he asks, unsure whether to be worried or not, though clearly whatever was said was bothering them. He feels a pang of something like jealousy well up within him at the peculiar connection Tobias and the other elf share, before pushing it back down, not even entirely certain as to why he’s feeling it.

“He was just… especially intrusive and nosy today,” the elf admits, blushing a little and suddenly avoiding the necromancer’s gaze, frowning softly. “He thinks I’m becoming distracted.”

The necromancer lets out a small, almost annoyed huff. “Hmph. Distracted?” The word leaves a foul taste in his mouth. The fact that Solas believes his Little Bird to be so careless… it irritates him. “And just what are you supposedly distracted by,” he inquires, raising a curious eyebrow.

“Matters of the heart,” Tobias acknowledges without getting too specific about what or whom this latest critique was regarding and fighting back a renewed blush that threatens to overtake his cheeks.

“Solas says that we- that I- should be like a Lighthouse. That those doing the kind of important, world-saving work that he was attempting cannot afford the luxury of attachment, it becomes an impediment. We should be a lone light in the dark. That I shouldn’t concern myself with such things and should stamp out any developing feelings before they’re allowed to grow stronger,” Tobias continues, shaking his head.

“What a load of crap,” Emmrich replies quite before he can stop himself, biting back at chuckle at the wide-eyed look on the elf’s face at his sudden and uncharacteristically crass outburst.

Stamp out the feelings before they grow.

The idea leaves a sour taste in his mouth, an acrid feeling that makes Emmrich’s stomach twist.

“Attachment is not a luxury. It is a necessity. It is something every living thing needs and longs for. The idea that you should have to forgo connection or love to do the work is absurd. What kind of world are you preserving if you do?”

“He doesn’t believe I will be able to make the tough calls when it counts,” Tobias frowns again. And Maker, that expression alone, seeing the his companion’s sadness, the doubts the other elf has sewn in them is enough to make him curse the ancient elf- God or no.

“Solas believes that when it comes down to a choice between the person I’ve come to- the one I care about,” the elf corrects, flushing a little at the tips of his ears as they stop themselves short of saying just how much they’ve come to care, lest the necromancer start pressing for more details and realize he is the object of their affections. “That if it’s down to the person I care about or the world, I won’t be able to make the ultimate sacrifice if it proves necessary.” The worst of it is, Tobias isn’t sure he is wrong. Solas may have been able to find a way to do so, but it’s clear despite the ancient elf’s best attempts to make their connection a one-way street, that the thought of the Inquisitor still plagues and pains him. And a world without Emmrich is no longer one Tobias wishes to give any thought to.

Emmrich hums, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. A deep crease is forming between his furrowed brows as he ponders the notion.

“It’s a lot to pin on a ‘maybe’,” the mage assesses shaking his head. “And to ask you to stamp out your feelings before they’ve even had the time or space to be explored, that’s- Well, that’s not his place to say or choose for you.” The idea of anyone telling Tobias to do such a thing makes him feel slightly ill.

“He’s not entirely wrong,” Tobias admits with a frown. “I like to think I’d do the right thing for everyone, but I can’t pretend it would be an easy choice. I just… Thedas is so big. I need something smaller, something more… real, something tangible to fight for too. Is that selfish? Is it wrong to be thinking about the future, about the kind of future I might want when all of this is over? And who I might like to share it with?”

Emmrich shakes his head, a frown behind his thin mustache as his eyes meet the elf’s big earnest blue-green ones, his own brimming with empathy. The idea of the elf thinking so little of themselves, of being so critical of what is arguably one of their best traits… their enormous heart, that Solas would try to encourage them to sequester, even abandon that part of themselves is unthinkable.

“You truly are a romantic, aren’t you,” Emmrich asks softly, his own heart beating a little louder in his chest, warmed by this vulnerable and hopeful side of his companion, and moved that the elf trusts him enough to let him see it, determined to nurture and encourage it.

“Oh, and you’re not,” Tobias chuckles softly, shaking their head. Emmrich is every bit as passionate and a romantic as they are, they’re sure of it, it’s part of why they fell for him in the first place, “My gentleman necromancer.”

This brings a smile to Emmrich’s face, and some heat to his own cheeks, feeling his heart skip a beat or two in his chest. It’s not a title the elf has ever used before, but it’s far from an unflattering one. Emmrich certainly isn’t complaining. Truthfully, however, it’s the possessive as much as the description, which captures his attention and intrigues him. Is he theirs? He supposes he is. In so many ways as Rook may wish, Emmrich thinks.

“Me? A romantic,” Emmrich replies, feigning indignance, the flush in his cheeks giving him away.

“You know you are,” Tobias smiles amused at his pretend protests at the accusation. “You don’t know how to do anything in halves- your work, your research, even your teas,” the elf says, though their tone is appreciative… fond. “You put your heart into everything you do. It’s a wonder there is any of it left to go around. But it’s part of what I- what I admire about you. It’s why I know my heart is an asset, not just a liability.”

Emmrich feels his heart skip several more beats as they continue to speak.

Admire. The word resonates in his head. They admire him- have seen in him what few others have.

Emmrich’s cheeks are fully flushed now, and he ducks his head the better to try and hide it in the low light of the evening candles and torches, but it’s of little use as the corners of his lips turn up into a smile he couldn’t hope to banish if he tried.

“You’re blushing,” the elf points out surprised. “Surely, I can’t be the first person to have told you such things.” Tobias’s heart aches at the thought that they might be, that nobody before has ever taken the time to appreciate Emmrich for the incredible man that he is.

Emmrich is quiet for a moment, shifting slightly where he sits. He swallows, clearing his throat to keep his voice steady, then answers.

“I- I’m afraid you might be, my dear,” he confesses, not meeting their gaze. He fiddles with the rings adorning his fingers, hands clenching with nerves and a sudden burst of excess energy.

“Well, that’s just shameful,” Tobias says, shaking their head. “You should be hearing it every day,” the elf says with a small smile. “You’re incredible, Emmrich, and you inspire me every day.”

Emmrich can feel his heart in his throat, and the heat in his cheeks seems to grow still hotter as he listens, his breath catching in his chest.

Every day.

“Stop that,” Emmrich scolds softly when he finally finds his voice again, finally daring to lift his head. He chances a glance at the elf sitting next to him only to find that they are already looking at him.

“Nope,” Tobias replies with a satisfied grin, shaking their head. “I don’t think that I will. Not until you start believing it,” the elf smiles fondly, their mind clearly made up.

Emmrich admires their bright, albeit somewhat mischievous smile. And the warm and endearing look in their eyes- Gods, the look in their eyes. Sometimes it feels like they’re the first pair he’s ever seen. Certainly, the most captivating. A shiver goes through him. It’s too much to bear. He swallows again, but his mouth still feels dry. He’s never been looked at like this before. With such intensity, as if the elf sees right through to the heart of him, and somehow, finds nothing lacking.

In a moment of boldness, he reaches slowly forward, allowing his hand to cover the elf’s, his thumb gently brushing across their knuckles before his fingers to gently clasp theirs and offer it a small, appreciative squeeze. Tobias shivers and Emmrich quickly retracts his hand.

“Sorry, I forget the enchantments on my rings means they don’t often hold heat well,” the necromancer replies embarrassed, misinterpreting the elf’s response to mean that they are cold, and suddenly busying himself with the pot on the table as he summons another cup from the kitchen cupboard. “How about a cup of tea? Seems like maybe you could use one.”

[dreadfutures]

Accepting Dragon Age Prompts

You can send me prompts any time. They do not need to be from a list! They can just be any idea you have for my characters, or canon characters. I can't promise I will get to your prompt promptly (or at all).

Please copy + paste the whole prompt WITH A CHARACTER OR PAIRING SPECIFIED.

DA Drunk Writing Circle

‼️Please copy + paste the whole prompt ‼️WITH A CHARACTER OR PAIRING SPECIFIED.‼️

Prompt Lists

You can find all prompt lists here, or find some lists below. I will always take freeform idea prompts for any of my characters and ships. I also love characters from Tevinter Nights, The Last Court, and the Dragon Age Comics!

Prompts I like ATM:

Serault Prompts for Anyone

Aberdeen Gothic Prompts for Anyone

Dialogue for the Damaged

Dialogue from the Hero

Prompts from The Fall 2006

Prompts from the Scarlet Pimpernel 1982

Nonsexual Intimacy Prompts for Anyone

Prompts from Circe for Anyone

Lord Huron Prompts for Anyone

Short & Angsty Prompts for Anyone

50 Types of Kisses

Prompts for the Budding Romance

Prompts from Midnight Mass for Anyone

Prompts As Said by Dorian Pavus

Prompts As Said by Cassandra Pentaghast

Prompts All About the Yearning

Kubo and the Two Strings Prompts for Anyone

Prompt Me for a Character Codex Entry

Soft and Sweet Romantic Prompts

Ships and Characters I like ATM:

Ixchel Lavellan/Solas

Ixchel Lavellan (DA4) & Solas

Terinelan Lavellan (DA4) & Solas

Terinelan Lavellan & Ixchel Lavellan

Solas/Felassan

Felassan & Ixchel Lavellan

Morrigan

Kieran (child)

Kieran (DA4)

Morrigan & Kieran

Morrigan & Ixchel Lavellan

Morrigan/Halevune Mahariel

OC & OC :)

My Characters & Ships

Inquisitor Ixchel Lavellan

AKA: The Brave Guide, Champion of the People, and Inquisitor God-Song Main Relationships: ▸ Solas (Romantic) ▸ Formerly-Tranquil Felassan (UST) ▸ Halevune Mahariel (Fallen Hero/Tarnished Idol) ▸ Terinelan Lavellan (Sibling Energy) ▸ Any NPCs/OCs (Platonic) AU Relationships ▸ Sebastian Vael (Romantic) ▸ Dirthamen (Romantic AU) ▸ Kieran (Romantic/Chaste young!AU) More information about Ixchel below.

Warden-Commander Halevune Mahariel

AKA: Teyrn of Gwaren, Arl of Amaranthine, Hero of Ferelden, and The Windy Marcher Relationships: ▸ Morrigan (Romantic) ▸ Kieran (Son) ▸ Zevran Arainai (Mentor) ▸ Ixchel Lavellan (Mentee) ▸ Merrill (Sibling)

Terinelan Lavellan

AKA: First of Clan Lavellan Relationships: ▸ Ixchel Lavellan (Little Sister & Friend) ▸ Istimaethoriel Lavellan (NB Parent) ▸ Other Dalish OCs (platonic or romantic)

Spirit of Glory

AKA: The Shattered Main Relationships: ▸ Ixchel Lavellan (Mentee) ▸ Solas (Contemptuous) ▸ Felassan (Wary Ally) ▸ Shadows of the Evanuris (Enemies) Relationships: ▸ Andruil (Lord, Owner) ▸ Pride (Rival, Enemy) ▸ Ixchel (Prey, Enemy) ▸ Ghilan'nain (Lover, Enemy)

Inquisitor Ixchel Mahariel of Amaranthine

AKA: Foundling, Vigil's Daughter, Young Inquisitor Relationships: ▸ Halevune Mahariel (Adopted Father) ▸ Kieran (Adopted Little Brother) ▸ Morrigan (Adopted Mother) ▸ Zevran Arainai (Protective Uncle) ▸ Leliana (Close Confidant) ▸ Velanna (Tutor, Aunt) ▸ Nathaniel (Tutor, Protective Uncle) ▸ Alistair Theirin (Disliked in a Teenage Way) ▸ Lace Harding (Big Sister) ▸ Other advisors & NPCs

Other Relationships I Write

Feel free to suggest others! ▸ Solas & Formerly Tranquil Felassan ▸ Solas / Felassan (Elvhenan AU) ▸ Solas & Merrill ▸ Solas & Dirthamen ▸ Solas & Dorian ▸ Solas & Cillian ▸ Solas & Lace Harding (Shadows in the Sun AU) ▸ Solas/Cassandra (Shadows in the Sun AU) ▸ Formerly Tranquil Felassan & Cole ▸ Felassan & Briala ▸ Cillian & Merrill ▸ Suggest some!

More on my OCs and AUs

OCs

Ixchel Lavellan

👉 TLDR: all of her story, summarized F | Bisexual | 16 (young timeline) or 27 (DPDF) years old | 2-Handed Champion | Inspiration for Elven Rebellions | Pro-Labor Unions | No-Nonsense | Depressed and Burnt Out (young timeline), Learning to Be Hopeful and Optimistic (DPDF) | Mixed race & Mexican coded | Vallaslin to Dirthamen (DPDF)

Halevune Mahariel

M | Heterosexual | 28 | Assassin & Legionairre | Secretly a Vigilante Protecting Alienages | Exhausted with Politics & Broken Promises | Wife Guy | Grumpy Asshole with a Heart of Gold | Secretly a Softy | Face Cast: Cillian Murphy | Activist Burn Out Embodied | Vallaslin to Falon'Din

Terinelan Lavellan

M | Gay | 18 | Keeper Magic | First of his Clan | Pacificst | Good Cook | Endlessly Kind | Endlessly Optimistic | Wants City Elves and Dalish to Cooperate | Accepts the Truth about the Creators | Still Keeps his Vallaslin | Vallaslin to Sylaise

AUs

Shadows in the Sun AU

My official DA4 world state! A Fereldan feral child stumbles across the Hero, Halevune Mahariel, and he helps her find her name: Ixchel. Clan Lavellan takes her in, and she volunteers to attend the Conclave as a spy for her clan. At only 16 years old, she becomes the Herald and then the Inquisitor. She is pulled in many directions by her advisors and companions and generally has a really fucked up world state. By the time Corypheus is defeated, Ixchel comes to think of the Inquisition as her family—a family that no longer needs an Inquisitor. With her clan massacred, Ixchel has no purpose and no place in the world. She attends the Exalted Council in the midst of a deep depression made worse by the Anchor’s destabilization and the tension of politics surrounding the Inquisition. Solas’s revelation—and his refusal to let her join him—drives her nearly to the edge of her sanity, and she never fully recovers. She spends a few years trying to thwart his plans or come up with an alternative, but she views it as a hopeless cause, and she leads a lonely existence in an empty Skyhold. In my Bloodied and Broken world state, she dies at this point. But in my DA4 world state, Kieran comes to her and pleads for her to help him find his mother, who bears the Well of Sorrows and has gone missing. Ixchel, now 26 or so, sets off with Kieran, now 21, to find the very farthest edge of Thedas—and what lies beyond it. (Assuming the Inquisitor does not make an appearance in DA4.)

Bloodied and Broken AU

As the world ends, Ixchel is resurrected under mysterious circumstances and is sent back in time to the Conclave. Ixchel is furious, convinced of her own futility, and yet she cannot give up again. These are the stories of how she gets better. Ixchel manages to sway Solas from the din'an'shiral and they continue their lives together. Canon-divergent after Here lies the Abyss. At the moment we're concerned with investigating the source of the Blight & cures, and figuring out how to deal with the (locked away for the moment) Evanuris, while racial tension between elves and humans in the south boils over.

One Wild & Precious Life AU

In an AU of the future of the Bloodied & Broken world state, Solas and Ixchel defeat the Evanuris, but the effort causes Solas to go into uthenera for perhaps hundreds of years. His last words to Ixchel are "live well." Ixchel goes to live in Kirkwall and becomes involved in politics of the Free Marches. Sebastian, Prince of Starkhaven and a widowed father of two, falls in love with her. Very chivalric and romantic.

Elvhenan AU | Arlathan AU

A resurrected Ixchel gets sent back not to the Conclave but to Elvhenan, with a fragmented memory. Dirthamen takes her in for interrogation/study, since she wears his vallaslin. As they learn about each other, they fall in love, and they both learn the extent of his family's evils. Ixchel becomes the Champion of Fen'Harel in order to be of a proper rank to court Dirthamen. Together, they help thwart the Evanuris and their tyranny. One of Mythal's former generals, Glory, was "gifted" to Andruil and has been turned into a demon as her main instrument of violence against Dirthamen, Solas, and Ixchel. Solas's closest lieutenant (and lover) is Hope (aka Felassan)

Blood Sealed Belief

Normally Ixchel meets the Hero of Ferelden in the wilderness, he tells her a pretty word and she decides that’s her name now–and then she runs away. She gets adopted by Clan Lavellan after a series of stowaways and other events, and then she goes to the Conclave. But what if Halevune Mahariel had adopted her that day? She'd be a whole different person. Mostly this AU is in its infancy but it's fun to explore how she'd be different.

[dadrunkwriting]

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[sirdolraan]

Meet-Awkward

(( DWC August 2024 Day 4, Ego/Coincidence, CW: None; @daily-writing-challenge ))

"Ah, Sir Dolraan, it's good to have you and the Meddlers at our side," Khadgar said, shaking Dolraan's hand as the others filed in behind him.

"Same to you, Archmage. A few years of relative peace aren't enough to rob us of our edge, where are we needed?"

Lorellai's gaze wandered as Khadgar and Dolraan began to discuss the ghostly memories that were appearing across the world, and fell on the glittering, still form of Magni Bronzebeard, with Queen-Regent Moira kneeling at his side. The former king's body shone in the low light of the chamber, and Lorellai could hardly drag her eyes away. The stories hadn't done it justice, a dwarf made of living diamond.

Her reverie was broken by a warm hand on her shoulder. "And who do we find but one of the League's finest up-and-comers, ready to answer tha call!" Brann Bronzebeard declared, giving her shoulder a friendly shake as a handsome young man with spectacles and pockets full of scrolls and tomes followed in behind him. "Toddy speaks highly of your abilities lass, glad to see yeh here!"

Lorellai smiled back, taking his hand and shaking it. "Well, just happy to help where I'm needed."

"Is this a friend of yours, Uncle?" the dark iron lad asked, straightening his glasses, his gaze torn between the unconscious speaker and his desire to be polite.

"Ach, that's right, you've not met yet. Dagran me lad, this here is Lorellai Truthhammer, one of the Dragonscale Expedition's finest champions. Aided in several key discoveries -and- stood against the primalists t' boot! Lorellai, this is my nephew-"

"Dagran Thaurissan the Second." Moira's voice rang out, putting a chill over the conversation. "My son, would you please attend me, your grand-da needs us both right now." Something about her voice and gaze made Lorellai feel only a foot tall.

"Oh, of course Mother. A pleasure to meet you, Lorellai, perhaps we can talk about your discoveries once things are calmer," Dagran offered, smiling genially as he strode to his mother's side. Lorellai nodded, then barely held back from shrinking under the icy stare of Queen Moira.

"Oh, would yeh look at that!" Brann said a bit louder than he needed to, "I think yer meddler friends are gettin' ready to head out, go on lass, we'll catch up later." Brann patted her on the shoulder, before leaning in close. "Don't take it personal, lass. Old hurts and all that. You're a good egg."

Lorellai nodded, stepping back with a slight bow to the royals before turning to join the others at the portals, her gaze lingering as it met Dagran's once more, before she went off to join the fight.