#izzy trevelyan

[full---ofstarlight]

picrew time!

nyx shepard // isadora trevelyan

artemis ryder // celeste cousland

sirrus montague // selene peg’asi

[cityandking]

#squad for all your thedas kids! photo album, parachute, contact for caes, dai and minah!

thanks dear!! // oc ask meme

#squad: who’s friends with who? what are the squad dynamics like?

okay so I tried to hash out the various canon and AU and DADND worldstates and who would conceivably interact with who and that failed so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ on the DADND side: I don't think caes and minah would ever be friends. caes is way too invested in politics and power for minah's comfort and caes has no interest in petty circus thieves unless they're useful to his goals. maybe with some of those nat 20 insights caes would find something interesting (if he could get past her deception), but you know his prodding would only shut her down faster than iggy could rip a guy's throat out. obviously I want this desperately. in a world where both their histories and motivations were laid bare I think they'd be a lot of fun. still not friends! but a lot of fun for the canon thedas girlies: warden!lira and inquisitor!vesper would be 30 y/o wine-drinking friends post-Inquisition when they've both mellowed out a bit. they'd get along marvelously well—both stubborn, both exhausted, both inclined to long nights bitching with possibly the only other person in the world who Gets It. the secret shadowy remains of the inquisition have a contact in the Ferelden court and it's the Hero of Ferelden who stops by vesper's house while cullen is busy with the kids so they can gossip and talk politics. alternate wardens and worldstates: lira and winry amell would not get on well and there would be a lot of clashing opinions but eventual (grudging) respect. lira and kalle tabris would also not get on well but would have a lot of the same opinions, and they'd both be incredibly annoyed by that (probably they should kiss about it). winry and kalle would get along surprisingly well but would disagree on everything. not sure what the alt worldstate inquisitor contingent would be like. rasa gets on with everyone. rosie trevelyan is a two-faced bitch but she gets the job done

photo album: describe one of your OCs’ favorite memories.

CAES — the first time Aneleus turned to him for some public show, the first time he realized there was power in the performance and in being the favorite student—it didn't make the hate or the ridicule or the servitude any better, but the future was suddenly a clear and sharp thing that he could craft with the careful application of performance and perceived duty and a long, slow game of attrition DAI — that incredibly strange night in monrah after the test of strength but before they set out to find asmeda, before the izzy fight and the mirrors and the castle falling out of the sky and the deaths. even the annoyance of scratch and ozy prompting the mothmen to bother him was undercut by the game of it and zaref stepping in. it was just nice. it was a moment where daichi though, oh, I would be okay if it were like this forever. and then, of course, it wasn't. MINAH — coming off stage the first time she performed in a show, the utter wonder of being someone else and being loved for that transformation. the orchestra had toasted her that night and that had been a pleasure too, being plied with food and drink and praise and laughter, but nothing held a candle to the magic of disappearing into someone else's face, even if only for an hour or two.

parachute: who does your OC(s) trust the most? who makes them feel safe? who would they do absolutely anything for?

CAES — I don't think caes trusts anyone but I do think there's a certain comfort with deca and knowing that they both know far too much of each other's secrets (something something mutually assured destruction turned into working towards the same goal). he does truly want her on his side, mostly for her skillset and partially because she's become something familiar. besides that, he hasn't much love or loyalty to share with anyone at all. DAI — at this point he trusts the party the most, and would do anything for them, and feels safer with them around. and his dad, of course. zaref definitely makes him feel the safest, probably, but that's boyfriend privileges. MINAH — alesso is the person she trusts most at the moment. he's also the person who makes her feel safe, along with a couple other long-time members of the orchestra—people she's traveled with and worked with for years. as for who she'd do absolutely anything for? her sister.

contact: how does your OC(s) feel about touch/physical contact? are they affectionate? if so, how do they display affection to others?

CAES — touch has always been something held over him as a sign of ownership and obligation, and he doesn't particularly enjoy it. that said, he doesn't particularly mind it either. he's happy to use any and all tools he has to his advantage, and sometimes that includes getting chummy with someone. he's not super picky, just vaguely irritated. (he isn't affectionate and doesn't display affection to others, except as a means to an end) DAI — he's actually a big fan of physical touch, he's just awkward about it. he's pretty straightforward (verbally) with his affection, but he definitely sprinkles physical affection in there—hugs, clasped shoulders, ruffled hair, other small touches. once he knows he has the go-ahead to be physically affectionate he will be, it just takes a while for him to work up to it MINAH — touch has been part of her line of work these past years (performing, dancing, living in cramped quarters with six to twelve other people, even some of the thievery) and she's pretty at ease with it. she used to be skittish as fuck, but she's grown past that, thankfully. that said, it wouldn't be her number one way of showing affection—she's more about giving people things and keeping an eye out and making herself useful. (I think despite the work she's a little touch starved, and if someone were really properly gentle with her she might have to Take A Moment)

[oceanssecond]

welcome to oceanssecond's multimuse.

Hello, I am Izzy ! I am 25, they/them, I was in the tumblr rpc sphere from 2012 to 2019, and am re-establishing myself with a multimuse as of May 2023. Mutuals priority, but open to all rp blogs who follow to interact.

This blog will be low to medium activity.

Feel welcome to ask me questions, ask my muses question, send things in to the inbox, it's always open even if we haven't chatted before.

I will be writing here as well as discord if anyone would prefer that, mutuals may ask for dicord

>RULES / >MUSELIST

>HEADCANONS / >MAINS

@oceansfirst -> my main high activity blog, consisting of marvel, dc, and myth muses

@oceansmusings -> my headcanons sideblog for this blog and oceansfirst (i also liveblog when i'm reading comics or watching stuff or playing stuff over there, so expect ooc posts over there too along with headcanons! i recommend following if you want insight to my muses)

Mutuals get priority

I prefer paragraphs over one liners

my ask box is always open

will turn asks into thread

MUSE LIST

Cassius Hawke (m!warrior)

Nyra Hawke (f!rogue)

Maxwell Trevelyan (archer/ex-templar/inquisitor/companion)

Eliot Waugh

Alice Quinn

Julia Wicker

Dr. James Wilson

Stef Adams Foster

Daniel Larusso

Johnny Lawrence

Rizlis (risen eliksni guardian oc)

Carmelita Fox

Loona (hb)

Octavia (hb)

Beelzebub (hb)

Millie (hb)

Brian Yu (monster prom)

Nimona (nimona)

Ballister Boldheart (nimona)

[vicekings]

#35 for the touching meme :)

35. kissing their bruises and scars

That one thin scar that cut through Etienne’s lips from when he got busted up in his first fight was Izzy’s absolute favorite. She found it added some intrigue to his handsome face. Even if he protested that it was the dumbest scar he’d manage to get, she still liked how charmingly roguish it made him look. Besides, it was impossible to miss the way he smiled when she’d press a kiss right over top of it.

His busted lip was far from his only scar. Each time Etienne returned from defending her honorable name, Izzy would lay him down in her bed and make him recount how he got each and every bruise. Most he didn’t remember, or chalked up to bumping into something while climbing, but there were a few dark and deliberate bruises from heavy punches that littered his ribs and made Izzy wince.

She kissed over them soft and slow. Though Etienne teased her for being a sap about it, she knew he didn’t mind. He gave her a small smile and let out a sigh of relaxation. It was nice, to be able to stop for a moment and catch his breath.

“Je t’aime.” He murmured, reaching out to run his fingers through her hair.

“Je t’aime aussi, mon beau faucon.” She replied quietly.

When he pulled his hand from her hair, she reached out to take it in hers. She brought his knuckles to her lips and kissed at the scrapes and bruises. When she finally let him go, he motioned for her to come cuddle up against him. They laid together in the last rays of the evening sun, watching the sky through windows and letting themselves breathe.

They were both still alive. Fuck the bruises, fuck the cuts, fuck all the battle wounds. They were both still alive, and that was all that mattered.

[aefward]

Dress by Burberry, Watch by Omega, Earrings by Bulgari.

[whotimbaland]

[eilowyn]

As if I’d fall for that pretty-boy smile.

[ladydracarysao3]

In Love, Serenity  

Chapter Twenty Nine: Fear & Fatigue

Excerpt:

He winks at her just before lunging and lifting her into his arms as if she weighs nothing. The feeling gives her as much of a thrill as it did the first time he lifted her in the war room months before.

He carries her to her bed and throws her playfully onto her sheets. She bounces with a squeal. She’s never had the pleasure of seeing him so confident about wanting her. Perhaps he really did miss her desperately. How long has he been planning to take her this way, she wonders.

He begins stripping from his armor and Izzalea adores the sight. Layer by layer, he peels off his mantle, back and breastplates, gauntlets, bracers, and shirts until he is left barechested and grinning.

“Cullen,” Izzalea says in a throaty moan. “You surprise me.”

“Is this alright?” he asks, kneeling on the bed and leaning over her as she lies flat against the sheets.

“It’s more than alright. I’ve been waiting for this for so long.”

[Read Chapter 29 on AO3]  or  [Start from the Beginning]

-Izzalea-

The desert sun is hot and burning, even as it begins to set. Izzalea looks down at her ever darkening skin, her arms bare from discarding her tunics long ago. She should be protecting herself from the sun, but the days are so hot, and she sweats so much that she just cannot handle the touch of stinking, wet cloth anymore. She’s resorted to wandering around with the least amount of cloth she can get away with, loose sleeveless shirts with linen pants that she rolls up to her knees. She would refuse shoes, too, if it wasn’t for the fact that the stone is so bloody hot, so she fashioned together the lightest slipper-of-a-shoe she could dream up.

She wishes she could wear even less, but she’s still Inquisitor. She needs to be decent. But thankfully, in a keep made up of mainly fighters, there is an atmosphere of a brotherhood. A comradery that has helped her relax, even if just a little bit. No one gives her a second glance as she walks around, her brown skin showing and deepening under the sizzling sun. There are no faint-of-heart nobles poking around to be shocked and appalled at having just witnessed the Inquisitor’s unsheathed calves and forearms.

It’s the little things that are keeping her going and she has so precious few of those anymore. The lack of nobles squawking at her day in and day out is the silver lining to this entire wretched existence in which she’s found herself.

Izzalea leans on the walls on the ramparts and stares to the east. Adamant Keep is out there. It’s waiting.

She’d tried to talk to Clarel, she really did. She took a team to the fortress and called out for parley. As they approached the gates of the massive structure, however, arrows came raining down upon them. If it hadn’t been for a well timed barrier cast by Solas, she’d probably be dead.

Now, more Grey Wardens arrive at Adamant daily. Izzalea has scouts positioned outside the keep around the clock. Watching. Reporting.

Eerie lights can be seen in flashes from the center of the keep at night, and agents report fires of bodies being burned far from the keep’s walls. The dead are snuck out in the cover of darkness, taken far to another old ritual tower, and set ablaze. Clarel is definitely hiding what she is doing from her men.

People are being murdered for sacrifice every night . Corypheus’ demon army grows every night . And every night , Izzalea stares to the east, wishing she could stop it…

She will stop it, though. The Inquisition's ravens have been especially busy over the last two weeks, and now her army is marching across Orlias to meet her. They will stop this, together. They have to. There is no other alternative.

With the support of the Empress and the aid of Lady Seryl - who proved to be a very advantageous ally in supplying the Inquisition with new and stronger trebuchets - Izzalea’s army will lay siege on the fortress and stop the demon army by force.

Cullen is very confident that with their access to modern equipment, the walls of the ancient citadel will come crumbling down, giving them the ability to storm the keep and destroy Corypheus’ plans. She just hopes that the Wardens who’ve not been enslaved will see reason. She cannot stomach the idea of killing all of the Wardens in southern Thedas. No matter how misguided they are at this juncture, they are still Grey Wardens. They are still heroes.

Izzalea sighs as she stares into the dimming eastern sky. Cullen is out there. He is coming to her. She squeezes her eyes shut and mumbles a prayer to the Maker to keep him safe.

Amidst the endless letters sent by ravens, Leliana had slipped a note in one to warn Izzalea of Cullen’s condition.

“He is still functional, but his fatigue is worsening. He leans on the closest steady object whenever he stands and his skin is only growing more pekid. He tries to hide his weakening health, but he fails. I do not want you to be surprised when you see him.”

Cullen is deteriorating due to his lyrium withdrawals, and he is continuing to fight the battle alone. When he told her months ago that he’d stopped taking lyrium, he warned her that he could go mad or even die. She could tell quitting was extremely important to him, and encouraged him to stick to it. She’d hoped they could find a cure or something to help him, but she allowed her focus to fall. Now he’s growing sicker, and she can’t help him. He’s traveling across vast lands, he’s going to fight in a siege battle, and there is nothing she can do to bolster his strength.

If he dies, whether from the withdrawal or falling to someone’s blade due to his weakened state…

No.

She can’t think about that.

Cassandra agreed to watch Cullen, assess his progress - or lack thereof. She is a Seeker, if anyone knows whether or not Cullen can handle this, it will be her. They can meet before the battle and decide if he needs to stay behind, or stay in the very back while their army charges forward.

If he even makes it to her in the first place…

She scrunches her face and rubs her eyes with the heels of her hands. She has to stop thinking like that. The situation’s out of her hands right now. All she can do is pray that it won’t end in Cullen’s death. He will endure. He has to. Izzalea has enough to worry about without adding fears that the man she cares for may be taken from her.

The blasted mark on her hand decides that now is the time to spark and sputter, sending a jolt of bright energy against her face. Izzalea yelps and cringes from the pain. She forms a fist and considers smashing her stupid mark through the battlement walls. It hurts. A lot. It started its frequent pulsing as she entered the desert, and it’s only gotten worse as the days pass.

She’d hoped it would calm, hoped it was just a temporary fluke. At least mark isn’t growing, it’s just sparking, and ringing, and screaming at her all the Maker-damned time. She’s tried her best to hide it, because she doesn’t want anyone to know she’s in pain. Her people can’t know she has a weakness.

She knocks her fist against the stone a few times as the stinging subsides, but she still hears its song in her ears. Her only break from the ringing is when she sleeps… if she sleeps. If it’s not the heat or green-glowing-torture keeping her awake, it’s her dreams. Truthfully, she doesn’t want to sleep. It’s become too much. She’s not completely sure if it’s him, or if it’s just nightmares. But it feels like it’s him, and it’s maddening. Night after night, since reaching Griffon Wing Keep, Corypheus has haunted her dreams.

She can’t see him, but she hears him. He taunts her. Twists her. Sets her soul on fire with anger. He threatens her and everything she holds dear. He won’t shut up. She screams that she’s not afraid, that he is revealing his fear of her by attacking her sleep.

Corypheus is nervous. He should be.

But the lack of rest is catching up to her. Her emotions are getting harder and harder to control. Every time she shuts her eyes he’s able dig past her defenses a little deeper, screw with her mind a little further. He’s trying to break her, and she’s terrified that it’s working.

So she doesn’t sleep. She barely eats. She just paces, and stresses, and writes to Skyhold.

Her mark flares up again and she yells out in frustration, punching the sandstone wall as she does.

“Inquisitor?” she hears Solas ask softly behind her.

Izzalea spins and blinks, trying to control her breathing and forcing her heart to stop beating like a hummingbird’s wings. She hadn’t heard him approach. “Solas,” she says, clutching her chest. Her nerves are so shot. She shouldn’t be this easy to sneak up on.

“You need to let me look at that,” he says and points to her fisted hand. It aches and green glows from between her fingers. “It’s been hurting you consistently for a while now. You aren’t hiding it from anybody.”

She grunts and tries to think of a lie, but she’s so tired, she just…can’t. Her shoulders slump forward as she places her hand in his palm, mark glowing and facing up.

“I was hoping it would just kind of…knock it off, eventually.” She sighs her words, shoulders slumping forward even more. She sounds stupid. Her logic has definitely been flawed, but Solas is kind and doesn’t chastise her.

He peers at the mark for a moment, then waves his hand above it. Blue and white glyph-type markings appear in the air over her hand and the pain lessens. The mark still sputters, still sings, but the sharp ache that shoots up her arm every time it acts up subdues. She flexes her fingers and turns her hand around, inspecting it like it’s the first time she’s seen it.

“What did you do?” she asks softly, bewildered and thankful.

He smiles and touches her cheek where the mark struck her earlier. She feels his healing magic mend a cut she didn’t even know was there, and with a cloth, he wipes a bit of blood and sweat from her face.

“I cannot make it stop, but I can at least try to aid against the pain,” the mage says as a white light from his fingers cleans the cloth, leaving behind no trace of grime. He carefully folds it and slips it in his pocket.

“I’ve been speaking with the other mages,” Solas continues. He places his hands behind his back and paces past Izzalea to peer out into the horizon toward Adamant. “Aurora confirms it wholeheartedly. The Veil is particularly thin here, feels as if it is stretching thinner every hour.” He turns his steely gaze back to Izzalea. “There is a powerful entity lurking in the Fade. I believe it is the cause of your mark’s…malfunction.”

“Fabulous,” Izzalea huffs, sinking her back again the crenelation. She wonders if that is why Corypheus has also been able to invade her dreams.

Solas turns back to stare into the void. “I believe it to be a fear demon, growing stronger every night. It feeds upon the fears of the forces within Adamant, the forces here...” Solas pauses and turns his head to his shoulder with downcast eyes. “And the fears in you, Inquisitor.”

Izzalea starts to object but he cuts her off.

“You’ve become ragged,” he says, a slight harshness to his voice. “You need to rest or your defenses will continue to strip until you are left with nothing.”

“I’ve just been having a hard time sleeping, that’s all,” Izzalea says.

“I can provide you with an enchantment that will allow you to sleep through the night.”

Then she’d be trapped with Corypheus’ threats all night long. That’s not something she’s interested in. “Thanks, Solas, but--”

“I apologize, I suppose that sounded like an offer,” he says as he turns back to her. He takes her hand in his, firm but not hostile, and presses a rune into her palm. His eyes stare into the depths of her sleepy soul. “It is a demand.”

She allows her eyelids to drop, too exhausted to put up a fight. Plus, she knows he’s right…

“I could join you in the Fade if you like. Similar to how we walked through Haven after arriving in Skyhold.”

She wonders if he is testing her. Could it be possible he knows about her nightmares? She can’t risk him hearing Corypheus. She can’t risk anyone finding out she’s weak. “No…No thank you, Solas,” she says finally. “I will take your enchantment, but will be fine dreaming alone.”

“As you wish.”

When she makes it to her quarters, she places the small rune that Solas gave her under her pillow. She is going to have to risk listening to her enemy for an entire night to even attempt to gain an amount of strength back. Who knows, maybe Corypheus will be busy tonight…

Staring into a looking glass on a table next to her bed, she sees how haggard her appearance has become. Her eyes are bloodshot, her skin is drooping, and the undersides of her eyes are puffy and dark. She looks terrible. Weak. All she can think as she stares at her reflection is, failure .

“Get your shit together,” she mutters to herself with determination and a deep frown.

She sits on the edge of her bed and whispers a prayer to the Maker. She asks him to protect her tonight, to keep the nightmares from unfolding for one night. That’s all she needs. Just one night to regain some strength, some sanity, and perhaps she can find a way to fight back tomorrow.

She blows out a small candle by her bed and takes one last glance through an east facing window. She sees a faint flash of green far off in the distance, and her heart sinks. If she is going to stop this madness, she needs to be strong.

Lying down on her bed, she nuzzles her head into her pillow and above the rune. With a deep breath, she closes her eyes allowing herself to drift into the Fade.

When Izzalea opens her eyes, she’s in her room at Skyhold. The air is so much thinner there. It feels cool and refreshing on her seared skin. She sits up from her bed and looks around with a smile. It feels good to be back here. She’s missed this room. She feels safe here.

She hears the clatter of his boots on stone, and quickly, the golden curls of his hair appear through the railing as Cullen climbs the final steps of her tower’s staircase.

She feels elated to see him. Maker, he’s beautiful. What a sight for her tired, sore eyes. Izzalea rushes from her bed, running with barefeet slapping against cold stone. “Cullen!” she yells in jubilation.

She practically knocks him over when her body collides with his. He laughs and holds her tightly. “Good morning, my love,” he says between deep, breathy chuckles. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, I believe so, the best I’ve had in a long time,” she says with a smile and backs out from their hug with a long toe-to-fingertip stretch. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“As am I,” he says with a wicked smirk, his scar curling in that enticing way that it does. “I missed you desperately, Izzalea.” His voice has grown darker and her chest flutters.

“Oh, have you?” She smirks back.

He winks at her just before lunging and lifting her into his arms as if she weighs nothing. The feeling gives her as much of a thrill as it did the first time he lifted her in the war room months before.

He carries her to her bed and throws her playfully onto her sheets. She bounces with a squeal. She’s never had the pleasure of seeing him so confident about wanting her. Perhaps he really did miss her desperately. How long has he been planning to take her this way, she wonders.

He begins stripping from his armor and Izzalea adores the sight. Layer by layer, he peels off his mantle, back and breastplates, gauntlets, bracers, and shirts until he is left barechested and grinning.

“Cullen,” Izzalea says in a throaty moan. “You surprise me.”

“Is this alright?” he asks, kneeling on the bed and leaning over her as she lies flat against the sheets.

“It’s more than alright. I’ve been waiting for this for so long.” She feels dizzy. Her heart beats with so much excitement that it’s spastic, made even more spastic when she feels his hand glide up the length of her inner thigh. She gasps and heat pools in her smalls. She looks into his gorgeous, golden, smoldering eyes. “Cullen…”

He leans down and brushes soft kisses against her lips as his hand cups at her heat over her pajamas. She moans and press her hips forward to rub herself firmer into his palm. Cullen smiles and leans back, breaking their kiss. Izzalea bites her lower lip, overcome with warmth and feelings about how much she adores this man.

Just as she is feeling compelled to tell him how she feels about him, how much he means to her, a deep furrow appears between his brows. He looks at her with such deep concern that it’s worrying. Attempting to speak, only husky grunts crack in his throat. The pulls his hand that was seated between her thighs and knocks his fist against his chest. Panic then sparks in his eyes just before they roll back, only showing white while his eyelids flutter wildly. Cullen slumps, rolling backward onto the bed next to her.

“Cullen?!” Izzalea shrieks and sits up. She shakes him by the shoulders, “Cullen what’s happening? Cullen, wake up!”

He doesn't respond aside from low, disconcerting gurgling sounds, his mouth open and jaw loose. Izzalea continues to shake him, screaming for him to wake up, when he suddenly starts convulsing. His body springs into vicious shudders and jerks, limp and shaking violently at the same time.

Izzalea screams, “No! No, no, no, no, no!” She doesn’t know what to do, how to stop his fit, how to save him. She needs help. She starts to get up to scream from her balcony. Scream for healers to come quickly, when he stops. Just as suddenly as his convulsions began, they stopped. His body lies still. Terrifyingly still.

“No…” Her voice cracks. She rushes to feel a pulse, something to tell her he is still alive, but he isn’t breathing, his heart’s not beating. “No, Cullen,” she cries, tears streaming down her face, her body aching and trembling. “Please, wake up.” Her voice is only a crackling squeak of a sound as sobs overpower everything else. “Help,” she cries through the choking tears, but no one can hear her, no one can help. He’s gone.

The lyrium…

It must have been the lyrium…

Why did she encourage him to quit when she knew he could die? Now he’s gone.

“This will happen to your precious commander.” The voice rings in her ears so loudly that it’s almost deafening. “He is dying. Now . As he marches to your aid.” The booming voice of Corypheus echoes against the walls. “And Calpernia is watching. She is waiting for him to fall. When he does, Herald, she will be there to bring him back.”

“What are you talking about?” Izzalea calls out in anger, wiping her eyes of salty tears. It is then that she hears the tiny tinking sounds. Millions of tiny little tink-tink-tinks echo as droves of small red creatures pour from every opening, every crack, every crevice in her bedroom walls. A tiny army of red lyrium creatures. Like small lyrium spiders. They flow as if one unit from the walls and toward the bed.

Izzalea growls and crashes against them, desperately trying to protect Cullen. She throws her feet, her fists, anything , to push them back or crush them. Her body bloodies against the sharp rocky creatures. There are too many of them. She’s overrun. The creatures cover Cullens body and begin eating and tearing away at his flesh.

Izzalea screams in horror. “Stop this! Stop this, you monster!” She jumps off the bed, backing away as Cullen’s body is destroyed right before her eyes.

This isn't real, she tells herself. Corypheus trapped her in another nightmare. He is feeding off of her fears about losing Cullen to lyrium. She needs to calm down. He can’t be allowed to manipulate her like this. But seeing Cullen ripped to shreds is too much. It’s too much!

“Imagine the crippling effects to your Inquisition, once I have your commander. I believe he is much better suited helping Calpernia than your ridiculous Inquisition, don’t you?” The voice roars like violent thunder in her head. The mangled body on her bed starts to move.

Cullen sits up, the tiny red creatures forming large crystals of lyrium that jut from grey, decaying  flesh. His eyes glow with a bright, radiating crimson and he stands, glaring into her.

“No. Cullen. Stop. Stop this, Corypheus!” Izzalea screams.

Cullen begins taking slow, ragged steps toward her and she backs up faster.

“Cease your ridiculous plot to undo me, Izzalea, and I will stop torturing your dreams. Submit to me, and I will make you a General. I will save your precious Cullen, and you will only know glory. For that is what you want most in this world, is it not? Your pride hunts for glory. You feed off it. I will bestow it upon you. You need only submit.”

“Never!” Izzalea screams at the top of her lungs. She rushes to her wardrobe and with a powerful shove, knocks it down toward Cullen. It was an attempt to slow him down, but the tiny red lyrium creatures encircle the wood and cut through it like a sharp dagger through soft flesh.

Izzalea backs up onto her balcony. She’s trapped. She can’t wake up. And she has no idea what this monstrous version of Cullen and the army of lyrium creatures are going to do to her.

“You are a fool, Herald. Your Maker will not save you. His prophet will not aid you. They are gone. The heavens are empty. I will be your God. There is nothing you can do to stop me. I will find your Commander at his weakest moment, and I will make him mine. And I will destroy you.” The voice booms from the skies. He is everywhere. There is no escape.

Cullen walks out onto the balcony, hands outstretched to rip her apart. Izzalea screams and trips against the the stone railing behind her, flipping her off the edge.

She falls, and falls, and falls. She falls for longer than ever seemed possible, the air whipping past her as the skies and air laugh around her. Cullen leans over the edge of the balcony smiling at her, and she falls.

Just as trees come into her periphery and she knows she is about to hit the ground, her eyes snap open.

Izzalea gasps for air and jerks up from her bed, her eyes wide and blinded by the early morning sun coming through her windows. She pants and gasps for air. Her body is trembling. Her clothing and sheets are soaked through with sweat. Her heart is racing so fast that she fears it will trip on itself and stop completely. She hears it beating in her ears along with the screaming song of her mark.

She pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them. She rests her head between her knees, trying desperately to regain control of her body. Slowly, she catches her breath and slowly, her heart rate slows to a less life threatening speed. As the panic subsides, the realization of what she just dreamt sets in.

Izzalea grips at her body tightly.

And she cries.

[gingerbreton]

1-5 for both izzy and alistair AND freya and blackwall? :)

❤️ Thank you for indulging me! I love DAO but damn do I wish I could get better screenshots!

1. Who is the most affectionate?

Both Izzy and Alistair are very affectionate - although he’s slighter shyer in company, whereas Izzy is naturally a very tactile and physical affectionate person, so has no problem being affectionate in front of other people.

Again, they are both very affectionate people when they feel secure in the relationship (both having lacked affection and probably being touch starved to some degree) and will show this privately. Freya is the shyer of the two and less likely to express affection as publicly, whereas Thom will always check her over after a battle, unconcerned if they have an audience.

2. Big spoon / Little spoon? Both my girls are little spoons and enjoy a damn good snuggle!

3. Most common argument?

Izzy and Alistair are most likely to argue about either Izzy doing something reckless, or Alistair not prioritising himself.

Freya and Blackwall are most likely to argue about her getting hurt trying to live up to other people’s expectations.

4. Favourite non-sexual activity?

When they can, Izzy and Alistair like to sneak away from castle life and out into Denerim. They love wandering the market and the shops incognito, eating street food, grabbing a drink at the Gnawed Noble - just generally enjoying that little bit of normal life.

Freya and Blackwall enjoy going out riding to get some quiet time together - quite often they’ll just ride out to a lake where he can fish while they talk for hours on end. Obviously there’s a bit more actual conversation to be had post-Revelations.

5. Who is most likely to carry the other? While both my ladies can lift their guys a couple of inches off the ground, between height/weight differences and the gals being built for speed not strength, full-on bodyguard style carrying is out of the question. So, Alistair and Blackwall are far more likely (and successfully) to do the carrying.

[ladydracarysart]

Izzalea Trevelyan. Inquisitor. Warrior. Champion.

As the misfit youngest of five, Izzy was happy to claim her place in the Inquisition and bring glory to her name. But was the cost more than she could bare?

[valerie-royeaux]

OC Kiss Week - Day 2

John Cousland & Izzalea Trevelyan

As soon as they stepped out of the Fade and realized they were back in the physical realm, that they had once again survived, no words were needed to let all know how the Grey Wardens and the Inquisition would move on from that moment forward.

For the second day of OC Kiss Week 2018, my John Cousland is lucky to get a kiss from no other than @ladydracarysao3‘s Izzy, a great friend, and a great inspiration in getting me back to writing. I’ve been meaning to draw them together for a long time!

[full---ofstarlight]

OC Template for Isadora Trevelyan 

[gatticus]

'you'll always be my favorite ghost' for the florence and the machine prompts

yo yo yello! thankyou so much for this ♥  So bit of context, Tomas is Izzy’s twin and Salana and Henry are her parents :) This is set after the exalted council.

Isabelle has never been here before. Hadn’t cared to when he had first died, her mother didn’t even tell her where he was buried, but she supposed she never really asked.

Her husband is quiet, respectfully so, but she knows he is watching her, just as attentive as she stares at the grave in front of her. The flowers are well kept and the headstone is polished, glimmering under the sun that has barely risen. 

She seeks out his hand with her right, and Cullen simply curls his fingers around hers in response, a gentle squeeze that grounds her before she can fully get lost in whatever is going on in her head. She appreciates it, but can’t find the words to thank him, but he already knows. He always does.

Thomas Andrew Trevelyan 9:17-9:37 Rest now

Isabelle drops his hand momentarily, curling around the headstone to pull out a plant at the base. She walks back to Cullen, and lamely places them on the ground at her feet. 

“He didn’t like lavender,” she says, staring at the name and engraving it into her memories. 

She doesn’t know how to feel when she looks at it. It’s strange, she had yearned for a place to mourn for years, and now she is standing in front of it, all she wants to do is run away. Being here is like picking off a scab from an old wound, she can feel the grief re-opening, consuming her like a rain cloud. 

“I just don’t like the thought of him in there,” she offers lamely, and the thought of it makes her eyes water. “He’s in there all alone.” 

A strong arm curls around her waist as she lets him tug her close, her temple on his shoulder as his thumb strokes over her coat. She feels him shift over her, and his stubble brushes across her cheek as he places a kiss at her hairline, but she can’t will her eyes to flutter closed like they want to. She instead leans into him further, blinking blurry tears into his coat. 

“Thankyou for coming here,” she says, because she would never be able to tell him how grateful she is. “I know it isn’t pleasant.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he says quietly, afraid to pop the atmosphere they have made for the two of them. “I’m glad you asked me. I wouldn’t have wanted you to be here on your own.”

“No,” she hums, agreeing with him. “But there he is. Staring me in the face. He’s stuck here.”

Cullen doesn’t say anything, listening because he knows she isn’t finished yet.

“He’d hate me moping about at his grave,” she chuckled, a watery one. “He’d rib me for it—but I can’t—I don’t think I have it in me to laugh. Is that awful?”

“Not at all.”

“I think I’d like to come back here,” she tells him, knowing he’s listening intently to her. “I think I could learn to laugh after a while. He’d probably tell me to piss off, he never was particularly sensitive.”

“Sorry about the damage!”

They were both sprinting out of Leinne De Montfort’s estate, Tomas was wrapped up in a bedsheet, one he had stolen from the matriarchs daughter, who he had just bedded, then promptly been caught by her mother.

Isabelle, had just left the kitchens after befriending the cook, who had subsequently been discovered by the girls father, thus, they were chased out of the halls by several guards and a possessive servant.

“Make sure to request the damages to Salana Trevelyan!” Isabelle laughed over her shoulder. “Or Henry! Whatever, just not us!”

Tomas fell, the bedsheet tangled around his ankles threatening to expose whatever little dignity he had left as she threw her head back in laughter, almost tripping over herself as she pulled him to his feet to carry on running. 

They made it out eventually, with the yells disappearing into nothing, and the adrenaline fading from their limbs.

“Well that’s one for the records,” she panted, hands on her knees as she tried to recover. “Did she not have a spare pair of bloomers you could throw on?”

He looked at her, face flat, then his lip twitched, then hers did, and they both broke into peals of delirious laughter. 

Cullen snorts into her hairline as she chuckles softly, finishing the story with her eyes shining with tears that had slipped down her cheeks. 

“I wish he’d met you,” Isabelle says, the sentiment being replaced by the whole encompassing grief again. “I wish he’d been able to grow up. That was the worst part—he had so much more to give than messing around with nobles daughters. He had all this future in front of him, just for it to be snatched away.”

She still dreams about him. Sometimes she still thinks that when she wakes up he will chastise her and tell her to get up. But then she thinks on it a little more.

“Remember what he told you in your dream?” Cullen asks. She had told him in detail about it, about how stupid she felt and he instantly assuaged her fears. “You carry on his legacy, you carry on the fight that he gave his life for. I see it in you everyday, you keep him alive through you.”

His words make her eyes glaze over as the words on the headstone blur. Her eyes finally slip closed as she remembers the words he said to her in the dream, clear as day;

“As long as you’re alive I will be.”

“I think you carry him with you everyday,” Cullen says, as tears slip from closed eyelids. “In everything you do.”

He always knows the right things to say. She breathes out slowly, and can’t articulate what to say, even now. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” he says, and she feels the slightest bit better for hearing him say it. “Do you want to sit down with him?”

She nods under his chin, as he presses another kiss to her hair, and he’s guiding her next to the flowers, taking a seat on the grass despite the morning dew clinging to it like a second skin. He sits crossed legged as she sits beside him, their thighs touching.

She doesn’t even know where to start.

[mi6-cafe]

It’s Supportive Sunday!

Supportive Sunday is a day when we encourage you to support someone in the fandom!

Here’s some ways to do that:

Kudos something you like

A short comment (“Loved this!” or “Extra kudos!”)

A more detailed comment (“X made me laugh out loud!”)

Make a rec post

Send a creator a short anon ask about their work! (“What inspired X?”)

Send a reader who’s commented a short anon ask showing your appreciation! (“Your comments make my day!”)

Reblog this post with a rec

This Sunday we’ve chosen to feature the creation which were created for the MI6 Cafe miniBang. Yes, it is a bit late, but because of all things 2020 the deadlines kept moving slightly, and then there was Fest but here you are:

Behold all the minibang creation below the line

“Wedding Gifts and Butterflies”

by Ana (juggling_hearts)

Summary:

Of course, the wedding and everything associated with it had been, dare he say it….fun. But Sebastian was more than glad to have some time to both of them, no interruptions or guest insight. Just him, his husband and the boffin’s wedding night gift.

6.5k, 00q, fluff and smut, e-rated

>>READ HERE<<

Art by Nana-chan: Tumblr

“Were you expecting an exploding pen? We don’t really go in for that anymore… (or do we?) ”

by AtoTheBean

Summary:

Rumour has it, back in the days of old Boothroyd, the gadgets were divine. Or ridiculous, depending on your point of view. And Bond doesn’t have any complaints about Q’s tech, but he still gets a bit wistful when he reads those old mission reports.

, 00q, fluff and humour.

>>READ HERE<<

Art by meduszoa: Tumblr

“London Unmade”

by Boffin1710

Summary:

The London skyline was dark, cloud covered, as a light drizzle fell. The darkness broke in a few places here and there by what appeared to be the flicker of flames dancing across the drifting clouds. Streets were silent. Only the bravest, or the fool hearty, were out this time of night anymore. The remaining were sheltering, hiding, repenting for their sins as fear and death consumed the population of the city. This was London unmade.

4.7k, 00q00, angst/au - apocalypse, implied character death.

>>READ HERE<<

Art by AsheTarasovich: AO3, Tumblr

“Serenade On Your Heartstrings”

by christinefromsherwood

Creator Spotlight

Summary:

It was still dark when the phone began to ring. Q forced his eyes open. “Jaaaames.” “…Ooh love, ooh loverboy…” “Hnnnnng.” “Let go. I need to take this.” James’s arms around him tightened, pushing against his bladder. Suddenly wide awake, Q tried to squirm away towards the nightstand and his phone.

3.8k, 00q, established relationship/domestic fluff/light angst.

>>READ HERE<<

“A moment before” by Ksan: Tumblr

“Silence”

by Dassandre

Summary:

“You must have fucked something up on that last mission,” Alec said around a mouthful of chicken tikka at lunch one afternoon.

5k, 00q, heavy angst.

>>READ HERE<<

“Art for Silence” by BBR: Tumblr

“Halt & Catch Fire”

by Eltea

Summary:

When stolen Q-branch schematics and an attack on an MI6 whistleblower both point to the same culprit, Bond and his allies find themselves flying halfway around the world to California - where they’ll have to navigate the glamorous, treacherous world of Silicon Valley tech startup culture if they want to catch a traitor and stop a disaster.

19k, gen, action.

>>READ HERE<<

Chris (ravenclawkwardly): Tumblr

“The Parting of Hero and Leander”

by Equinox2324

Summary:

Bond and Q have managed to turn their relationship of mutual annoyance to one of friendship. They also sleep together sometimes.When Bond is called away to an incredibly dangerous, high-risk mission, Q is absolutely not worried in the least because he and Bond aren’t actually together. Honestly. Especially not when he finds out that Bond has been critically injured in the middle of the mission.Cut to Q being in distress about his boyfriend who is absolutely not his boyfriend and some pining.

9.4k, 00q, angst, mutual pining.

>>READ HERE<<

“yearning” by Ruggsie:

Tumblr

“N00Bz”

by furiosophie

Summary:

There is little that escapes Bond, but for the life of him, he cannot fathom how he ended up going from what felt like a life or death situation to sitting on a hotel room bed, eating pizza with a man wearing a Grumpy Cat shirt and not much else. For a brief moment he wonders what Alec would do now, in a situation like this - in bed with an asset and nothing but a cat seperating them. Fuck. He knows exactly what Alec would do.- Or the one where Bond has to go undercover at a Fortnite World Championship and his best chance of tracking down the bad guys is to work with the cocky, obnoxious, and incredibly cute star player Q-TEA and his cat.

9k+, 00q, e-sport au, fluff/angst.

>>READ HERE<<

“Cover Art” and “Snes” by christinefromsherwood: Tumblr

“Q and Bond” by myo.mikan: Instagram

“A Second Time”

by Ghoul

Summary:

Bond’s an old dog that’s outlived his owner. Where else is his loyalty supposed to end up now that M is gone?

3.8k, 00q, angst.

>>READ HERE<<

“Art for ‘A Second Time’” by Boffin1710: Tumblr

“Standard Protocol, and Other Workplace Hazards”

by hideyseek

Summary:

In which Q gets into an argument (with HR), and gets out of his head (about Bond), and gets by. Or: MI6 finally gets to the paperwork around Q’s emergency promotion.

5.3k, 00q, fluff? what’s a genre. it’s light, it’s workplace romance. sorry!!!!.

>>READ HERE<<

“A Moment for Tea” by storm_of_sharp_things: Tumblr

“Genius”

by IrishWitch58

Summary:

Bond is home from a mission and looking forward to spending time with Q. Q is having issues with people thinking he’s just a brain. Taking lunch should be a way to cool things down, shouldn’t it?

4.5k, 00q, smutty fluff.

>>READ HERE<<

“Embrace” by dhampir72: AO3

“Movie Moment”

by Izzie

Summary:

Q has just been recruited at MI6. Bond has worked there for years. When the pair meet by chance in Q’s bookstore, sparks fly but neither is willing to admit it. A formal work introduction turns into an unofficial date at an art gallery and as Bond walks Q home in the rain, the two men screw their courage and take the opportunity to have a “movie moment.”

3.1k, 00q, first meeting.

>>READ HERE<<

“Movie Moment” by 10k: Tumblr

“Surprise! A Twin!”

by Liv

Summary:

Benoit Blanc finds out he is a twin. A twin brother to James Bond.

8.3k, fluff, Knives Out Crossover: Benoit/Q

>>READ HERE<<

“The Mario Cart Scene” by Chris: AO3

“Killing Me Softly (With Biscuits)”

by Mely (Celyan)

Summary:

Wherein James returns from a mission and finds out the hard way that sometimes, biscuits can be more explosive than one might think. Well, at least he gets a date out of the ordeal, as well as one (1) biscuit.

3.3k+, fluff and humour, getting together

>>READ HERE<<

Art by BBR:Tumblr

“Chirps, or the Feline Foes of James W. Bond.”

by midrashic

Summary:

James Bond is fluent in English, Spanish, French, German, Portuguese, Arabic, Mandarin Chinese, Japanese, BSL, and, just for fun, Esperanto. He never thought he’d be adding “Cat” to that list.

7K, 00Q, established relationship/domestic fluff.

>>READ HERE<<

“Cover Art for Chirps” by BlueBellOfBakerstreet: AO3, Tumblr

“Dedicated”

by Nana-chan

Summary:

Prompts: A) Dedication B) In an attempt to get the sleep deprived Quartermaster to finally go home, Bond offers to buy his groceries. In the grocery store when he looks at the note Q had sent him, he discovers there’s been a mixup. He doubts Q would have sent him to buy lube, condoms and a new pair of lacy knickers.

E-rated, 3.9K, 00Q, romance: established relationship

>>READ HERE<<

Art by Azure7539:Tumblr

“Glint”

by ProblemWithTrouble

Summary:

Q is on vacation when Bond arrives which is odd because Bond was supposed to be retired and with Madeleine Swann.

3.5K, 00Q, fluff

>>READ HERE<<

“Storyboard for ‘Glint’” by Ven: Tumblr

“Art for ‘Glint’” by Olly: Tumblr, Instagram

“Kitty Kitty Bang Bang”

by SouffleGirl91

Summary:

Bond’s done. The last mission was a wake-up call, he’s not up to par anymore. Moneypenny could have died. After weeks of moping, help comes from an unexpected quarter – his balcony. The old ginger tom’s got a limp, torn-up ears and a scar above his left eye. He also likes tuna and is a very good listener.

11k, 00q, fluff, getting together.

>>READ HERE<<

“Selfie” by dhampir72: AO3

“Sweetener”

by storm_of_sharp_things

Summary:

Alec Trevelyan takes stock of his relationship with James and Q, and discovers it is a refuge he never expected.

4.3k, 00q00, domestic fluff.

>>READ HERE<<

“Sweetener” by pettikotes: Tumblr

“The Claw”

by Venstar

Summary:

Something was clawing its way through Q’s mind.

3.5k, 00Q, thriller noir.

>>READ HERE<<

“Art for The Claw” by Azure7539: Tumblr

[vicekings]

#3 for whoever you like!

3. hugging while twirling around + Izzienne

If you asked Étienne, he’d happily tell you that the relief of finally being home paled in comparison to the joy he felt when he locked eyes with Izzy for the first time in months.

As soon as he met her gaze, he let his bags fall to his feet and brought his arms up to catch her. True to his prediction, she had launched herself into his tight embrace, wrapping her legs around his hips and laughing all the while. All Étienne could do to maintain his balance was to twirl them around. He clutched Izzy tight to his chest and buried his face in the crook of her neck, taking in the sweet scent of her favorite perfume.

“Hello, mon cœur.” He murmured against her skin, once they’d finally stopped spinning.

“I’ve missed you.” She whispered back.

“Really? I could hardly tell.”

“Étienne, my love, my heart, my darling, stop being a smartass and let me enjoy this.”

[aefward]

Bella Hadid wears earrings Chopard, On mannequin necklaces Laruicc.