#miladydewintcr

[lottiesnotebook]

For the Rook storytime prompts-- have you done #17 yet? (Also I hope you feel better soon!! 💕)

Thank you so much for the prompt! It has predictably cheered me up enough to stop feeling sorry for myself and write again (and also to do some very cursory research because Cara's main hobby is not something I've ever done!)

From Rook Storytime Prompts (previously 6, 15, 18) - Rook teaching someone else a skill (inspired by this) (I haven't written Lucanis before, so wish me luck! Also this turned out mildly angstier than I'd planned but that is what happens every time.)

"Come on, don't you trust me?" Cara gazed up at Lucanis with pleading amber eyes, which was an interesting perspective from which to see her, given that she usually towered at least a head above him. Now, however, she stood on the deck of a fragile-looking skiff, and he stood on the pier, which had seemed the strategically safer position until she'd turned that gaze upon him.

Mierda, but she was impossible to refuse when she looked at him (or anyone else) like that, and unfortunately, she knew it.

"It is not you I distrust, querida, so much as the vessel you have chosen."

The waves off the coast of Rivain caused the deck to heave and tilt with every movement, for all Cara's claims that it was 'perfect weather for sailing'.

It had been perfect weather the last time too, when the Venatori had brought his ship down and dragged him into their vaulted halls beneath the waves.

"The Justice?" She raised a brow. "She's solid, I promise you. Way less flimsy than those gondolas you Trevisons love so much."

"Gondolas are fit for their purpose, and a canal is not an ocean."

"Neither is the Rialto Bay." She took his hand in hers, running her thumb across his knuckles in a way that should not make a trained assassin blush. "Come on, darling, I thought you wanted to see me sail."

He had said that, he recalled, in the warm embrace of the Lighthouse's kitchen, Cara looking down at him with the firelight caught in her eyes, her restless, reckless energy for once dissipated and content to sit at his side. She'd been talking, soft and dreamy, about how she'd learned to sail as a girl, and it had captured some romantic part of his imagination - the salt sea-wind caught in her dark hair, her strong arms winding ropes and hauling sails, Cara in her element as she so seldom seemed in these uncertain, desperate times.

He had not, in the moment, drawn a line between her love of the sea and his own most recent sea voyage, a line his mind was drawing all too clearly now. How easy it would be for an enemy mage to snatch up such a vessel in an unfavourable wind or crush it with some great wave. Bad enough to risk himself in such a way, but Rook?

No! Spite snapped, from over his shoulder. Nobody takes our Rook! No sea, no god, no Venatori!

His hand twitched with Spite's desire to seize her wrist and haul her back onto solid ground.

"I did. I do," he corrected. There were few situations in which he would not want to see whatever Cara Hawke-Laidir had to show him. "Just... perhaps from a more steady vantage point than the deck will allow."

Her eyes glittered with mischief, "You're not scared, are you?"

"Never scared!" Spite retorted, through his mouth, and threw them both aboard before Lucanis could stop them. The deck, predictably, pitched and rolled beneath their feet, and Lucanis, ill-prepared for the leap Spite had thrown them into, would have stumbled if not for her grip on his hand.

"Of course you're not," she retorted, with an eyeroll, pressing a careless kiss to their cheek, and a second for Lucanis, with scrupulous fairness, then, with rare softness: "but it's alright if you are. The sea is a harsh and unstabbable mistress, even to those of us who didn't spend a few years beneath her waves."

He swallowed, feeling suddenly exposed beneath her honey-bright gaze. "I am not- such a thing is unbefitting a Crow."

"Of course," she agreed, lightly, "but if a- if anyone happened to be a little scared, I wouldn't force them aboard. Unless they were into that," she added, with a malicious grin that made Spite cheer and Lucanis flustered. "I just- thought it might help. You'll probably have to travel by ship again eventually, and this way you'll be- safe. You know I wouldn't let anything happen to you, right?"

"I know." He had little faith in anything these days, but for the girl with golden eyes who'd dragged him from the Ossuary and told him he was still alive. He forced a smile, tried to match her bright, teasing tone: "But what if my fear is for you? I've seen enough of you in Treviso to know you cannot swim."

She batted her eyelashes at him. "Then it's just as well you're here to rescue me, right?"

"Always."

She grinned at him. "So, we'll start with the raising the sail..."

She was as lovely as he'd imagined with the sea wind in her hair and the sun gilding her skin, and the taste of salt on her lips was almost enough to make him forget the horrors the ocean held in her depths.

[adainesjacket]

Hi!!! For the Rook questions-- 3 & 13?

3. How long does it take for them to officially get together? Did any of the other Lighthouse members have any suspicions beforehand?

Rafe is down bad from the get go and kind of thinks they're dating before they officially are, having grown up in the Circle where you can't do PDA anyway and everything kind of relies on vibes and secret midnight trysts. They don't have time for trysts and it's never midnight in the Fade, but the vibes are fully there, so he assumes that's fine and acts accordingly. No-one is suspicious, for this reason. Davrin doesn't know they're dating until they actually start dating, (after Weisshaupt). Because he's normal. Everyone in the lighthouse is quietly relieved that he's 'finally' making a fuss of his boyfriend in public.

Mora and Emmrich take a little longer because of Emmrich's classic paranoia, but it's official from the start. Mora doesn't have time for maybes. Emmrich likes to court people properly, and a public declaration of intention is all part of that. Also, Manfred spills the beans to absolutely everyone he meets.

13. What song(s) do you associate with them?

I love assigning songs! I love playlists! Here's a few:

For Rafe/Davrin:

'c'mon baby, cry' (orville peck) / 'acolyte' (slaughter beach, dog) / 'papa was a rodeo' (the magnetic fields)

For Mora/Emmrich:

'down bad' (taylor swift) / 'francesca' (hozier) / 'on board' (alana henderson, joshua burnside)

[dadrunkwriting]

DWC Europe: Head count

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[heylavellan]

Hello!! So! For zevwarden!! How about "I can't tell you how I feel." from the I can't prompts? Because that feels *made* for Zev imo >:)

deadass had to pull out the origins toolset to double check some dialogue. but i think this works well at the confession scene. yes?

@dadrunkwriting | @miladydewintcr

am i only dreaming?

rating: t

words: 920

additional notes: hurt/comfort, love confessions, saliin uses he/him

-------

The only explanation for the distance was he did something wrong. After running every possible thing he did through his head, it's the only one that makes sense. He offended Zev by not taking the earring. It had to be.

Or maybe he'd just misread this whole thing they had going on. That Zev only really wanted to be friends that had sex and found someone better for the sex. Saliin knew he lacked experience, so this shouldn't surprise him.

They needed to talk, but maybe Zevran needed time. Sylaise knew he needed time after everything that happened in Fort Drakon... There wasn't time to ruminate on that.

More than anything, he needed to be outside. Too long in this city wasn't good for him. Far too many people, with too many things going on. And maybe out there it would be easier to focus on the upcoming Landsmeet. Alistair, Wynne, and Leliana stayed back in the Arl's estate while the rest of the group returned to their campsite with him.

It was nice to return to their little routine. How uplifting even the barest greenery was, after what felt like ages in the city. Why anyone wanted to live there was beyond him.

To lay in the grass, to stare at the stars... That was peace. Wherever his Clan was, he hoped they were doing well.

For the first time in what felt like weeks, Zevran returned to his side. The crow sat crisscross beside him, fiddling with blades of grass he plucked from the ground. He wished he remembered stories about the stars, so he could think about anything but what was going on between him and Zev.

But it was weighing too heavily on his mind. "Are you done with me?" he asked. Delicate as always. Nice going, Saliin.

"No. I... Are you sure you want to talk about this?" Zevran sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was being uncharacteristically serious.

Saliin sat up and tucked his legs beneath him. "And it's fair to pull away without explanation?" he asked, looking over at Zev.

"Saliin..." Zev murmured.

"I rely on you," he said shaking his head. "Gods know I've needed you. You come to bed after I'm asleep and leave before I wake up." Saliin's hand cupped Zevran's face of its own volition. Despite his frustration, he relaxed a bit when Zevran leaned into his touch.

"So... If you've moved on let me know. I can't keep doing," he paused to gesture. "Whatever this is."

Saliin watched as Zevran shakily breathed. "It's... I can't tell you how I feel. The Crows were never fond of sentimentality. It's dangerous to do anything other than take pleasures where you can find them. I shouldn't expect more," he explained.

Saliin laughed dryly. Of course that's all he was. A pleasant diversion. "So that's all this was?" he asked, pulling his hand back.

"I thought so, at first. But you... I don't have the words to explain how you make me feel. I can't..." Zevran trailed off, pulling Saliin's hand back to his cheek. "I've been enamoured before. The way I want you... it scares me. It's everything I was taught is wrong in a Crow. Being with you confuses everything... Am I making sense?"

Saliin stared blankly at him, trying to decipher what he meant. Words were hard, that he understood. They failed him most of the time too. It frustrated him because he needed them to work now. Saliin opened his mouth a few times, looking for the right words. Then, he said, "I want there to be an us. Ever since... You saw me at my worst with Tamlen. You helped me make it through. I... Please stay at my side."

Zevran might be crying, but neither of them mention it. "Would you have me at your side after?" the other elf asked quietly.

"I'd be immensely stupid to say anything but yes," Saliin admitted, laughing a bit at himself. He felt tears pressing against his eyelids.

"Then we need not say anymore. That's all I wished to hear," Zev said, a genuine smile breaking across his face. He really liked seeing it on him. Saliin decided he needed to see that every day if he could.

"I think I love you," Saliin whispered. The way Zevran's face twisted in adoration meant he said it louder than he thought. "I don't have another word for how I feel."

"I am sorry for acting strangely," Zevran murmured, taking Saliin's hand in his own to kiss it. How divine it felt to touch him again, to have his attention back on him. "I think I will be better now. Much better."

Despite everything in him screaming to give Zevran time, Saliin was greedy. After everything, he craved comfort more than he knew was possible. He pulled Zevran into his chest and squeezed him tight. A few moments later, Zevran was squeezing him back, just as tightly.

"Sorry. I missed you," he muttered, rubbing his face in Zev's hair. "Need you."

Zevran's chuckle was far lighter than it was before. He briefly pulled out of their embrace to kiss his partner.

Saliin pulled him to the ground, looking at the night sky. Zevran quickly settled against his side, tucking himself beneath an arm to rest his head on Saliin's chest. "Can we watch the stars for a bit?" he asked quietly.

Zevran hummed a response, running his fingers along the warden's ribcage. Maybe things would be fine after all.

[the-font-bandit]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you @miladydewintcr for the tag!

I'm apparently still on my Illario x Rook de Riva nonsense since I can't seem to stop adding to this series.

This one takes place well after the events of the game, by a little over two years.

(also so it's before the cut, tagging @themontess and anyone else who sees and wants to jump in!)

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

“Teia?”

The other woman held up her hands, palms open. “Unarmed. This is not a betrayal. This is… a concerned friend.”

Rook sheathed her blade. Teia may be a Talon, but she was family. Or close enough to it, anyway. “Concerned? What’s wrong?”

Teia’s normally dancing gaze went flat. “Illario Dellamorte is what’s wrong.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in. Oh no. “Shit.” She groaned and fell into the opposite chair. There was only one answer. “You had me followed.”

A nod. “You had to expect someone would get suspicious, when you take a couple of days off every month or three, just to ‘clear your head.’ You were careless.”

Felana groaned. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How much had the spy seen? And of course this would have to be the time she and Illario couldn’t wait between dinner and his apartment, when they’d slipped into a darkened alley instead, quick and desperate.

She buried her face in her hands.

Teia’s voice was soft, but dangerous. “Is it serious?”

Rook snorted a laugh. “Absolutely not.”

“How long?”

A wince. Lie. But she was already in this mess. If she lied and Teia found out, it would be ten times worse. The words were an embarrassed mumble. “Before the Veilguard.”

Teia spluttered. “Four years?”

“…Five. And change.”

It didn’t take long for Teia’s expression to go cold. “Since before—”

“I didn’t know about Zara, or his plot. Not until we all did. And after he left, I didn’t see him for a year. Not until he sent a letter and I tracked him down.” She grimaced. “If it helps, I did poison him for it.”

That got a smirk. “Viago would be proud.”

“He’d be less proud that I took pity and gave Illario the antidote.”

[midmorninggrey]

WIP Wednesday

tagged by @shivunin! Thanks! <3

I'll tag @asexualtabris @carnalapples @miladydewintcr @saladruiner and anyone else who wants to share what they've been working on!

I'm going to step out of my comfort zone and share a rough snippet of a more "experimental" fic I've been trying to get out of my system. It follows Celeste & Dorian's relationship through Inquisition and Veilguard, and it's coming together with a lot of angst!!

-

Warning: vomiting

-

Crowded around the Redcliffe throne, they had been 5. The number 5 is a good number; the number 5 has possibilities. When she was very little, she learned to count with a jar of beans at the kitchen table, and propped up on a tall stool, she found 5 to be endless. The jar of beans was gobbled up at a steady, confident pace, and even though the multiples swung back and forth between odd and even, something about 5 always turned out feeling right.

Now Solas, Cassandra, and Felix are gone. They have been reduced to only 2. There is cold water around her ankles.

Their snap through the portal has sucked all the air from her, flattening her lungs to her ribs. Dorian appears unaffected; the man is already theorizing, casting his hands and eyes around the dank room, and Celeste has the sensation that the world is spinning around him. Unsteady, she tries to gulp in a breath and tastes bile floating on her tongue. She is sick on his boots.

Wiping her sour mouth with the back of her hand, the girl does not apologize. He makes a joke – she does not think it is funny, but later, when she is older, she will wish she could remember what it was.

They make a plan – or Dorian makes a plan, and Celeste manages to nod along.

1st, they must get up the stone stairs, the only escape. Above, the shadows loom, and they feel immeasurable. She tries to count the steps as her soggy shoes hit them.

1

2

3

4

She falters on 5. She worries she is going to be sick again.

Dorian goes up 10 steps before he looks back for her. In 1 hand, he holds his staff before them, a fancy thing that looks flimsy against the heavy dark, and for a moment, Celeste is struck by the possibility that he could be brave.

Bouncing back down, he holds his free hand out to her.

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

On the hand that holds the staff, she counts 3 rings; he wears 2 more on the offered hand. He has 5 golden rings.

Celeste takes that as a good sign.

[lasatfat]

First line challenge.

Rules: post the first line of your wip, the first line you worked on today, or any other “first line!”

I was tagged by @ruiningsalads. Nothing exciting, just a prompt fill for DADWC.

It’s official: the Fallow Mire is the worst place Kali has ever been to, perhaps even including Future Redcliffe.

Tagging the usual suspects, @cryptidglitter and @findswoman. I think @carnalapples got tagged already? But just in case. And let's add @heylavellan and @miladydewintcr for variety. As always, anyone else who is interested in participating can consider this a tag from me as well.

[teine-mallaichte]

Seven Sentences WIP Game

Alright I was tagged by @lottiesnotebook here (my new thing is to link the posts so more people can go see peoples WIPs 😂 )

Seven sentences... alright lets have bit from chapter 2 of my yet untitled 'Adrian Hawke is found in the fade' fic.

This was likely a trap. There wasn’t a magister alive who wouldn’t see the Blue Wraith as either a threat or a prize, and if it was the Venatori waiting for him in the city; then it could be even worse. Magisters, at least, were bound by politics, by careful maneuvering behind closed doors. The Venatori, however? They did not care for subtlety. They would attack in the open, carve his flesh apart, of claim him in the name of power. But still, Fernis had come.

Yes some idiot wrote Fenris a letter saying that Adrian was alive after 10 (I think 10? I really need to check the timeline again) years and told him to meet them in Minrathous of all places 😂

Right... tagging... Why is this bit always tricky? ANyway, no pressure. @syrupwit @miladydewintcr @glowing-blue-feathermage

[thorinoakenbutt]

I was tagged by @miladydewintcr to make some OCs in this cute lil picrew here! Tysm!! I loved seeing your DA OCs as well!!

So in my main world state, I have:

Risa Aeducan - the cutest little berserker to ever get banished from Orzammar. She's duty-driven and pragmatic but ultimately tries to do what's 'right' - though what is right is sometimes subjective.

Catelyn Hawke - She's such a mess. Chaotic bisexual archetype to a T and matches both Anders and Justice's freak.

Gwydion 'Revas' Lavellan - Doomed by the narrative™️ and reluctant shem-liker extraordinaire. He'd like to retire but plot and his sense of duty say no.

Also have a bonus Caspar Ingellvar since I'm finally beginning to nail down what I'd like him to look like!

I'll tag @nicolajpg, @drowninyoursorrowandfears, @grandpasauce, and @zenruu though no pressure!!

[asexualtabris]

It's WIP Wednesday! I was tagged by @miladydewintcr Thank you for the tag!!! 💜

tagging: @vigilskept @wickedwitchofthewilds @queenaeducan @wishforhome (no pressure of course!)

Context: Thorne and Lucanis have just confirmed their relationship and Thorne gets Lucanis a gift.

"It's ah...." Thorne hesitated.

"A coffeemaker?" Lucanis said, a smile lighting up his face.

Thorne shifted his weight, his face flushing. "I know there's already one in the kitchen...."

"But that one is form Minrathous!" Lucanis exclaimed, his smile widening. Thorne felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of it; he was so beautiful. "This one... you got it from Treviso, yes?" He walked over to the table Thorne had gotten to hold the coffeemaker and the water heating rune.

A smile wormed its way onto Thorne's face as well. "Yes, from the cafe you took me to. The barista told me you'd appreciate it."

Lucanis looked away from the coffeemaker and looked up at Thorne. His expression was so soft Thorne felt something deep within him ache with a kind of want he hadn't felt in years. "You got this for me?"

[wildxtreasures]

WIP Folder Game

I was tagged by @miladydewintcr - this is a mess sorry!

rules: make a new post will the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous and tag as many people as you have WIPs. People send an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then you post a snippet or tell them something about it!

my fics are not all in the same place and there are some various dragon age, mass effect, a bridgerton (which i will never do lol), and a couple of hunger games on here. and some are oooolllldddddd.

Rook's Personal Mission

Treviso Market

Letters Between Lovers (Awakenings)

Long fic - Isola & Davrin

Blackwall left, Vi'era has feelings

Blackwall & Vi'era - the Emerald Graves

Alistair & Avenia (started- have not finished it yet)

bridgerton fanfiction?

*for love is the sun on your face

no, i am not afraid to disappear (started- planned for 3 chapters, unclear when i will continue lol)

shepard kidnapped

spy thriller

Cross the Sky For You (started- have not finished it yet, will i ever?)

Serenity becomes Shepard

Serenity gets her first Omni-Tool

Garrus & Shep learn about flowers

When baby Shep finds out she has biotic powers

Kaidan & Shep sads

Garrus finds The letters

Vega & Kasumi

ARIA & NYREEN BABY

I'm going to tag whoever is interested! I would love some other fic friends here on tumblr if anyone wants to chat <3

[lottiesnotebook]

Hi!!! Happy Friday <3 I'd like to present a bouquet of flowers for Melia from the Flowers & Prompts?? I'm thinking camellia, and/or kingcup, and maybe also marigold?

Oh if anyone deserves flowers, it's probably Melia, who Goes Through It despite The Kick Inside not even really being her story! Also I love the flower prompt post so much! Here we have:

Kingcup- youth, innocence, dawn Camellia- my destiny is in your hands Marigold- grief

For the world's babiest bloodmage!

This is probably going to be my last prompt of the night, so have a scene that probably exists somewhere in the same universe as my (our?) monstrous creation that definitely won't appear in the final product, due to neither of our narrators being there to see it...

Alistair Theirin/Melia Surana, angst, breakups, yearning

@miladydewintcr | @dadrunkwriting

playing games like kids playing kingscup

The first time he sees Melia Surana, she looks almost divine to him - her dark curls forming a halo around a narrow, pensive face that is dominated by her heavy-lidded dark eyes. She looks, he thinks, like a young saint, or a girl at the start of a story - the kind of innocence seldom found outside Circle towers, the kind he envies and yearns for in equal measure. Then she curls her fingers into a fist, and he feels his muscles seize and twitch, and knows what she is, and that she must die.

Luna sees that strange look of innocence, too, and whether out of naivety or softheartedness, she spares her. Alistair rails against it, of course, but the terrible thing is this: she isn't wrong. For all that she is a blood mage, there is an awful innocence to Melia Surana - the way she looks up at the sky, wide-eyed and wondering, the way she kicks off her slippers to wriggle her toes in the grass and laugh, the way she plucks roadside flowers and braids them into clumsy garlands as they walk, as though even in idleness she cannot help but add beauty to the world. The way she turns ashen and curls into herself when she sees her first real bloodshed outside the tower, as if she thought the world a place beyond such horrors.

“A blood mage who faints at the sight of a little blood, it’s stupid, right?" she says, shoving her hair back behind her ears, "But I was never much of a blood mage, and- and I never saw anything die before, Alistair! Not even a chicken!”

Of course she had not, he realises, in that moment. The Circle is a world unto itself, where death is omnipresent but tidied away from the mages' view. How could she not be innocent, when the evils of the world - even of the blood magic she so clumsily practiced - have always been hidden from her lest they give her ideas? He isn't a templar, isn't even a knight, but there must still be something chivalrous remaining within him, because in that moment, he'd give anything to preserve such innocence in her, such light, like the newborn sun, not yet dimmed by the day's cruelty.

He cannot, of course. No shield he could bear would protect her from everything. By the time they reach Denerim and the Landsmeet is called and Eamon names him the heir to a brother he never knew and a father he never wanted, he cannot call her innocent any more, but she is still lovely, still within his reach.

The night she slips from it, they are sat on the floor by the hearth in the room they have shared since their arrival, her head against his knee, and he toys with her hair and remembers the flowers he'd braided into it, when they walked in the woods of Brecelian, and summer still hung in the air.

"How could they ask me to marry Anora Mac Tir?" he murmurs, more to himself that to her.

Melia swallows, and says, small and soft: "It makes sense, Alistair."

His hand stills. "Don't say that, Mel. You know I'd be a terrible king."

She sits up, then, takes her face in her small hands, riven with mage-scars but still so soft. "I know no such thing," she says, almost primly, and if this moment were anything less than heartbreaking, he'd kiss her nose and tell her she sounds like Wynne, but he cannot, does not. "You're a good man, Alistair. A great man, I think, and most kings aren't either. And Anora... She's a good politician, I think, but nothing I've seen makes me trust her to be a good queen. You would keep her in line, I think."

"Mel, you can't be suggesting-"

"I have to, Alistair!" Her voice comes out ragged and miserable, and the tears welling up in those lovely dark eyes are the only reason he isn't weeping himself. "You know what Eamon said. We'll all have to make sacrifices to see this through, and-"

"Not this, though! Not us!"

"You're the only thing I have that I could give up," she says, softly, "but that isn't why."

"Why then?" he demands, grasping her wrists in his hands. He is almost shaking with anger and heartbreak and betrayal, that she would- that she can't- that of all the people who have abandoned him, his first love would be among them, his Melia, his summer-sweet blood mage with flowers in her hair. "You can't seriously think that Ferelden needs-"

"I think," she says, solemn as a saint, despite the tears overspilling, "that Ferelden needs a king who knows mages are people, not weapons. A king who knows what it's like to be poor and hungry and hunted. A king who-" Her fingers trace back from his cheeks to his ears, the scarred, ragged edges they never speak of, "a king who might have been one of my people, in another life. Do you understand what you could change? What you could do?"

"Do you understand what you're asking of me?" he begs, but he already knows. Do you understand that I could refuse anyone but you?

"The world asks terrible things of all of us," she replies, and he thinks of Eamon still grey from grief and poison, of Duncan unburied in Ostagar, of their friend Luna and the child she carries. "I wish it didn't have to be you."

She kisses him then, chaste and tender, and he wants to cling to her like a child, wants to say my destiny is in your hands, but all he has to give her is grief for what they might have had, and a love that is crumbling like summer flowers in winter's wind.

[adainesjacket]

Hi!!!! Welcome 💕 (I am in love with your character moodboards btw??) For Marika & Blackwall, "I know I should stay away from you, but I can't." maybe?

thank you so much! i love making moodboards (and always happy to create them for other people's OCs!) this is shorter than i'd have liked, i'm running out of steam and i have to get up early tomorrow, but i hope you like it. i love writing marika. what a horrid girl. @miladydewintcr @dadrunkwriting

f!cadash/blackwall, 421 words, angst

"You shouldn't come down here," the prisoner says. "People will talk."

"And you're so concerned with my image," Marika scorns, dragging a crate over to sit in front of the bars. "That's why you left me naked and alone in a hayloft."

"Have you come to list my crimes?" Blackwall asks. "I thought we were doing that tomorrow. You'll get to sit in your big chair. You love your big chair."

"Throne," Marika corrects him.

He leans back, huffs through his nose. So it's like that, his face seems to say.

Yeah, she thinks viciously, it is fucking like that. Because you served me with such staunch loyalty and admiration, you made me a paragon, and then I found out it was all based on lies. She can't pardon him. The damage it would do to the Inquisition's reputation is immense. Josephine already has to deal with her being a socially awkward, misanthropic dwarf. She will not add to that with rumours of corruption. Of course the Inquisitor pardoned her lover, they'll all say. Of course it doesn't matter that he has children's blood on his hands, not to a thug like Cadash.

Marika didn't feel like a thug when she was with him, is the problem. Blackwall makes her feel… delicate. He calls her 'my lady' like she's Andraste Herself, and with him she could be, something golden and precious and holy.

"You should-"

"Don't fucking tell me what I should and shouldn't do," she snaps. "I should have left you in Val Royeaux. I should stay away from you, but I…" She is the most stubborn person she knows, and hates to admit when she can't do something, but. "I can't."

Their eyes meet, and for a moment all the shared guilt and anger melts away, and she is back in that hayloft, feeling so cherished she might burst with it. He reaches a hand through the bars and he takes it. Their sword-calloused palms are a perfect fit. They always were.

"If tomorrow is my last day in this world," he tells her, "I will spend it in the best possible way. Kneeling before you. My life in your hands. My heart in your keeping."

"Me in my big chair," she sniffs, horrified that there is suddenly a lump in her throat.

"You in your big chair," he chuckles. He brings her hand up to the bars, and presses a kiss to her knuckle. "My lady."

"My Warden." It's at that moment she finally knows what to do.

[dadrunkwriting]

DWC Europe: Head count

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[heylavellan]

Hi!! Happy Friday <3 The protective prompts are screaming NEVE at me today so for Neve & Bellara (& Nifty? 👀) "i know you can handle it yourself, but it doesn’t mean you should have to do this on your own." maybe?

they are THE women to me. they cannot take care of themselves but they can take care of each other.

@dadrunkwriting | @miladydewintcr

veilguard spoilers ahead

friends of dock town

rating: t

words: 766

additional notes: polyamory. nifty uses she/her.

-----

Neve stares at her notebook, trying to decipher what she wrote not a few hours ago. About half of it consists of names which are no longer legible and the other half of locations they were last known to be and distinguishing features of them. Templars are busy clearing out the wealthier districts of Minrathous, so coordinating the search and rescue operations falls largely under her purview.

"Hi Neve, am I interrupting? I probably am," Bellara calls into Neve's room, lurking by the door. Neve gestures her in. At least she was a welcome distraction. Bellara perches herself on the desk, pushing away the pile of notes to make herself comfortable.

Neve sighs and hangs her head. Fine. A little distraction is probably good for her. Maybe it'll even clean her mind a bit. "A little busy, but I always have time for you," Neve smiles, though it doesn't really meet her eyes.

Bellara frowns a bit, but it quickly dissipates. Probably not what she wants to hear, but it is the truth. The elf kicks her feet, glancing around the room. "I'm glad you do. Have time for me. I know the Shadows are really busy," she rambles. "So I want to get my time with you while I can. Hopefully not be too much of a bother. I just have two really cool girlfriends and both of them are really busy."

That brings a genuine smile to Neve's face. Something about Bellara's speech mannerisms never fails to endear her to Neve. She closes the space between them and kisses Bell, quick and sweet. The elf practically melts, an enormous grin of her own plastered across her face. Better.

"No matter how much trouble my girls bring me, there's always time," she reassures Bellara. She reaches into the drawer of her desk and pulls out her pipe. It's been a while since she's smoked, but she desperately needs it.

As Neve walks outside, Bellara eagerly follows her, grabbing her arm. "Stressed about everything? I know it's a lot. Elgar'nan attacked Minrathous, there's a lot of Blight, and the Venatori are running amok. But that's the thing. It's a lot. You and Rana can't do it alone," she comments.

Neve sighs. Once they're outside her room, she starts smoking. "We can do it alone," she insists, staring into the distance.

"Okay. You can. But you shouldn't. You don't have to. Lucanis is busy with Treviso. Taash and Harding followed him there. But Nifty and I can help," Bellara remarks, posting Neve in the chest.

That is true. Doesn't mean that either of them have the time. Or they have other things they should be doing. "Come on amata. The Veil Jumpers surely have bigger problems than Minrathous," Neve says cautiously, watching Bellara's response out of the corner of her eye. She rocked on her toes and bit her lip. Just what was she hiding.

"The thing is, I already asked some people if they wanted to help. They might be in the library right now," she admitted guiltily. "And they're good at cleaning up after explosions. And magic. Magical explosions even."

"Bell-"

"I know I should have asked. But you've been running yourself ragged. And I'm worried. Nifty said to ask, but I can't stand by."

"Bellara-"

"But um. They should be able to help. Maybe we can help the Shadows get some folks out of Tevinter. Take them in if they're slaves. Or liberati."

Right. Neve kisses her, getting her tongue between those beautiful lips as fast as she can. Partially because Bellara would keep talking, and partially because she is feeling incredibly grateful. And happy. Loved is probably in that list too. Kissing Bell is easier than trying to explain all that.

Bellara clings on to Neve, letting their tongues move together in a dance that feels right. Their teeth bump a few times, causing them to giggle. Just as Neve is about to suggest they take things back into her room, they hear a wolf whistle.

They immediately pull back from each other, swiping at their lips to remove any saliva. Nifty, though, is laughing at them. "Hey there darlings," she croons, kissing both of their cheeks. "I would say take it inside but I have it on good authority that there is some yummy food for us at the Shadows hideout and people to find."

Bellara tucks a longer piece of hair behind Nifty's ear. Trouble, the both of them. But the good kind. She tells them so as they lead her to the eluvian. Maybe a little help wasn't so bad.

[the-font-bandit]

Seven Sentence Sunday

Thank you @lavender-tea-fling for the tag!

I only have one WIP right now... (it's one I might end up just leaving in the drawer, but we'll see.)

It's a bit of an epilogue/follow-up to my recent Rook/Illario fic.

Rook tossed back the last of her wine, left her payment on the table, and followed them. She kept the cloak of her hood up, grateful for the cool drizzle that made it unremarkable. Slipping behind a building to climb a trellis she’d scouted earlier, she took to the roofs to follow.

Their hands entwined, Illario and the man slipped into an alley. It felt criminal, kneeling on the edge of the roof and watching them as Illario pressed the man against the wall, kissing him far more tenderly than he ever had her.

Illario’s hand drifted to his hip, drawing a slim blade.

A target, then.

Tagging: @wishforhome, @midmorninggrey, @siofrasongs, @tevivinter, and @miladydewintcr

No pressure, just if you want to jump in! ☺️