#my little tragic baby :')

[cupiidzbow]

not sure how much of a spoiler this is bc the game is about two months old but ummm …. phantom thief and his little baby phantom thief ✨💙🧡

[sampilled]

whenever sam brings up his childhood, its always like "awww so cute <3333" followed by "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST" approximately 2 seconds later

like "awww he had an imaginary friend, thats so sweet! i love sully!" and then "oh jesus, his imaginary friend is real and was there to fill in the gaps so that sam didn't fall through them :((("

or "aww sam had a dog friend" followed by "sam lived with his dog friend in an abandoned house cause he ran away for TWO WEEKS, apparently one of his happiest childhood memories wtf"

or "awww dean read to him" and then "oh the whole time he was thinking about how he was dirty and wrong haha 0_0"

[luck-of-the-drawings]

IM SO IN LOVE WITH VAMPIRES!! and boy do i love THE SUCKENING!! VERY excited to see the misadventures of sad wet cat, sharp angry cat, and the COOLEST cat i ever did see

[ruestheday]

jason todd fanfic writers when i tell them if you have to change the way canon events went down then maybe he’s not as much of a victim as you think

[mairon-goth-minion]

I find it very funny that I entered the marauders fandom for wolfstar and now CANNOT GET ENOUGH OF ROSEKILLER I LOVE MY LITTLE BABIES THEY’RE MAYBE PSYCHOPATHS BUT I LOVE THEM AND WOULD DIE FOR THEM EVEN IF THEY’RE BOTH CANONICALLY DEAD FUCK CANON MY POOR BABIES YOU DESERVED BETTER

(still love wolfstar though)

[sketchyandsketches]

Young Astarion for the heartbroken

Forgot to mention the og @tadfools eho inspired the young Astarion design

[wr1t3w1tm3]

Look, I understand people are upset about the end of Will and Elizabeth's arcs in the original Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy. I won't lie and say I didn't want to see some Will as the Dutchman's captain and some Pirate King Elizabeth BAMF on the high seas. I'm not even saying the writers are right... I'm just saying that the way they set up Will and Elizabeth's arc's, it makes sense.

They're tragic heroes: it's like John Proctor or Reverend Hale in the Crucible or Iron Man during the Infinity Saga or even Thackery Binx from Hocus Pocus. They're heroes working towards a noble goal, but they either can't obtain it or when they can, it doesn't go according to plan, and they have to make some sacrifices.

For Elizabeth it's a little more obvious. She's the girl who's trapped in her social status. In the first movie, her corset, a very real symbol of her status, literally suffocates her. It nearly kills her. Only once she sees the world of piracy and gets swept up in that world and allows herself to be changed by it does she see any smattering of freedom. Her whole goal is to get freedom, for her people (Port Royal) and her love (Will) in CotBP, even at the price of her own freedom (agreeing to marry Norrington if he saved Will). In DMC it's for herself (literally), Will again, and her father. That whole movie she is constantly fighting to keep herself and Will out of prison and danger. In AWE, she's fighting for her own freedom at times, but she soon finds herself the harbinger of freedom for a new golden age of piracy against Cutler Beckett and the East India Trading Co, who in the Pirates universe are canonically slave runners. She is searching for freedom in a very wide scope.

For Will, it's a little less obvious. He is also striving for freedom, but often not his own. He fights to help free Elizabeth during CotBP, and in DMC he's literally fighting to keep his own freedom and win the freedom of Elizabeth. Even when that means turning in a (sort of) friend (Jack). When he meets his father in DMC, his mission of freedom for those he loves expands in two parallel directions, Bootstrap tells Elizabeth as much in the brig of the Dutchman in AWE. The director and writers of AWE made that very clear in Elizabeth and Will's direction. One of my biggest pet peeves with that movie is the lack of a relationship between Will and Elizabeth, but it does make sense. It demonstrates Will's dilemma. His search for freedom is much more tangible, and on a very narrow scope. It also demonstrates Elizabeth's dilemma, where she feels that the freedom Will craves for his father will separate them for good. So, she turns to piracy, because freedom is all she has left by act II of AWE.

Both are searching for freedom, but both are tied down by duty. Elizabeth becomes the Pirate King, Will the Captain of the Dutchman. Both bound by their own duty, although the only duty we see them both bound too tangibly is Will's. Isn't it ironic that in the end, the choice to kill Davy Jones isn't Will's? Sure, it was his intention, but Jack wrapped his hand around the knife and dropped the hand that felled the heart. Jack - the pirate - an embodiment of freedom for both characters in CotBP (he saves Elizabeth from her corset and is the inciting incident into Will beginning his quest for Elizabeth) is the one who chains them to Will's curse? Narratively, it makes sense. Elizabeth has just become the free-est we've seen her in any of the movies (and I will die on this hill) and Will's only just literally been freed from the clutches of the EICo. And even if you did argue that Elizabeth still had her freedom as Pirate King, it can be easily argued that she lost her freedom the day she decided to keep and raise Henry. Both of them end up chained by Will's curse - one to land, one to the sea. All on their search for freedom. And Jack, that symbol of freedom (or rather, a symbol of piracy that for both characters ends up being a symbol of freedom), is the one who chains them to land or sea.

Now I am all for Henry, I actually think he had some great potential pre-Deppo-osition trial, and I think it speaks to Elizabeth's character that she was willing to wait and stayed on land for her child (who she easily could've taken her anger out on, though that doesn't appear to be the case). It can even be argued she stayed on land for Will to, as he gave her his heart to guard, a very fragile heart that if stabbed, ended her husband (this is one of the final demonstrations of their mended relationship, but that's a different topic for another time). Will got a very short stick in this fight, but Elizabeth got an equally short, if not shorter stick. Chained to the sea, destined to see your wife a max of seven more days before her death, and the reverse true for Elizabeth, instead she is arguably forced by society to keep and raise the boy who reminds her of the husband she'll never be sure she'll see again.

That's why William and Elizabeth Turner - The Captain of the Flying Dutchman and the Pirate King - are tragic heroes. In striving for freedom, they became trapped by duties, obligations, and burdens that they didn't even get a say in. In the end, not every happy ending is a good ending. And while the original Pirates trilogy didn't have a happy ending, it had a good one, as far as the narrative was concerned (Do I like this ending? Yes. Personally, I think it works and it gives me that kind-of-icky-kind-of-satisfying pit in my stomach that Hocus Pocus did back when there wasn't a sequel. Maybe it's not the ending everyone wanted, but for the story being told, it's the right one).

Thanks for coming to my little rant! I used to love doing these literary analysis essays in English my junior and senior years of high school. Over analyzing media, especially film and tv, is something I quiet enjoy. Plus, I might do a foray into video essays one day, so I figured I could use some practice. This is something that's been bouncing around in my head since I first watched AWE. The original Pirates Trilogy is just so good at symbolism, I'll probably put more stuff out here eventually raving about it. For now though, this is it.

[faaun]

Jack Marsh (2005), Friendship Otherwise - Toward a Levinasian Description of Personal Friendship

[getvalentined]

"Nashi I completely forgot about Nero"

WELL

I

FUCKING

DIDN'T

[ghost-bxrd]

Hello, yes, hi!

I am on a new path of evil and it’s called “A Cage In Search of a Bird” :)))))))

[olivegardenhunter]

The sannin as normal childhood friends who have sleepovers and play games in the forest and bond over liking "gross" animals

anon thank you SO much for this mental image. you have made my very miserable assignment-filled day. I have many thoughts about the sannin and baby sannin being inseparable best friends who were just normal kids make up about 90% of them. here's some hc I have about that (sorry for the massively long post, I'm a yapper at heart)

yes absolutely. I like to think of the sannin as misfits who never fit in anywhere else except with each other. there's so many different reasons for this. we know they became genin at age 6. if this makes them the exception, rather than it being the normal practice for a village in tumultuous times, then this must have meant each of them were prodigies in their own rights in the academy (yes, even Jiraiya I'd say, though I'd suspect his was more a case of recognised potential rather than showing any obvious prodigal talent from the get-go). this is further reinforced by the fact the third hokage became their sensei. I doubt the hokage would've taken up any random group of genin as his students. if this is the case, can you imagine how difficult it must've been for them to make friends with others, their age or otherwise? not only would it be hard to relate to their other peers cause of the age and probably ability gap, but I'd imagine people would've found them downright intimidating! all this, along with all their individual personality which, if their 6 year old selves were anything like their 50 year old selves, would've meant the little baby sannin would not have been anyone's first choice of friends.

so I'd imagine each of them being a bit of loners in the academy. then they get put in a team together. recognise they each stick out like a sore thumb from everyone else, but have all of the above common ground. their personalities are difficult for each to get used to initially, but once they do, these three super super super quickly become absolutely inseperable. to call them family would've been a serious underestimate of their relationship imo.

anyway this is all a long winded way of saying YES they're absolutely those regular childhood best friends who have sleepovers and hang out and play games. I imagine that tsunade grew up with a massive family in a massive loving home. direct contrast to orochimaru who's an orphan and, I imagine jiraiya is an orphan too (hence no canon last name). therefore, the senju compound is typically the designated sleepover venue.

the senju compound has mito, and nawaki, and depending on what your hcs are, would have tsunades parents, and I'd think they'd still effectively live like royalties even if the first and second are dead. (hashirama and tobirama wouldn't be around anymore by the time the three became genin I think, because (and someone correct me if I'm wrong) hiruzen would've already been hokage when he took on the three of them as his students, meaning tobirama would have already passed)

jiraiya and orochimaru just being at awe at the way tsunade lives and just how lively her house is and tsunade is just happy to have kids her age at home with her that just gets her cause her parents always nag her about training and chores, mito still treats her like a baby even though she's already a Shinobi that can take care of herself damn it!, and nawaki is so young he's so boring and sometimes gets annoying. so she always convinces her fellow teammates to come over to her house to practice and train, to babysit nawaki with her, to be the test dummy for try out this new jutsu or technique she's learning, and anything else that she insists she cannot do alone and needs them to be there with her

until suddenly it's already dark and oh her teammates can't possibly walk home all alone at this hour and besides my mum's making dinner and it's your favourite jiraiya and she'd scold me if I didn't offer some to you guys and orochimaru, mito found some sort of old scroll that uncle tobirama wrote about a new jutsu that she wants your thoughts on and besides, we have to meet sensei soooo early tomorrow for our mission and the training ground is closer from my house anyway, and you guys are just trying to get out of the bet we made and that's cheating y'know! and and and suddenly the senju compound just so happen to always have a few sets extra clothes and pyjamas that just so happened to be orochimaru and jiraiya's size and hey oro, raiya, look! it's got toads and snakes! and it matches mine! and the adults always just so happen to have two extra plates set at the table during meals, and the house just so happens to always be stocked up with both her teammate's favourite snacks, and orochimaru and jiraiya can suddenly enter the senju compound at any time of the day, with or without tsunade, and are greeted joyfully by the household's residents who had started nagging at them about training and chores and picking up after themselves, and mito is treating them like babies even though they're fully trained shinobis! and nawaki is being sooo annoying today and damn it, why isn't tsunade home yet? we agreed to train at 3!

(the three of them never quite notice that jiraiya or orochimaru's unannounced visits to the senju compound never trigger any of the seals that are activated by the presence of non-senju, non-family chakra in the compound. they never quite notice that the anbu guards at the front never give jiraiya and orochimaru any of the trouble or scrutiny that any visitors or guests to the senju compound are always subjected to, and the guards merely let them in with a slight bow of their heads, the same way they would to tsunade, or mito, or her parents.)

the only other times the sleepover isn't at tsunade's place is when there's a thunderstorm and orochimaru insists he needs to spend the night at his apartment because he tells them that last time the storm was this bad, lightning had struck a branch that smashed through his apartment that, if he wasn't already there and was even a little slower, would have destroyed the very few things his parents had left him that he so carefully keeps in a chest and he cannot ever take the risk that that would ever happen again he lost his power and his food went bad in his fridge, and c'mon tsu, you know oro not-so-secretly has a fear of thunder! don't you remember what happened last time at that mission where we were camping? we can't possibly let him spend the night alone at his house!

(later on when they're older, they'll come to find that jiraiya's new jonin apartment will become the new designated sleepover venue as jiraiya begins bringing back questionable sake from his missions that they were definitely too young to be having that he could not have possibly obtained that legally, and mito started banning them from playing card games at the senju compound when she noticed her granddaughter's tendency to lose her entire pay packet in a single game was becoming a bit too familiar to her... like a certain husband of hers' gambling habits that she had tried so hard to make sure wouldn't get passed on to the grandchild who the man had unwittingly taught said card games to at the age of 4. jiraiya started to call his apartment the degenerates' club then, much to the other two's dismay. though they couldn't quite protest when he correctly pointed out they were absolutely behaving like degenerates, even if princess tsunade and the leaf's once-in-a-generation prodigy felt like they were above those sort of disreputable behaviour.)

jiraiya and orochimaru fight tooth and nail that the massive forest that makes up the backyard of the compound, created by the shodaime himself of course, is the only reason they choose to hang out with tsunade at the senju compound, because princess tsunade (dammit oro stop calling me that!), the shodaime hokage seemed to have left so many fascinating things in this forest, there's so many secrets to discover. I don't think I've seen any of these species anywhere else in Konoha. I believe the secrets to some of his jutsu or techniques lie in this forest... oro you're such a nerd. and besides, Princess, the snakes here really seem to like oro for some reason and I think the toads are about to make me their king, I'm sure of it! and also, me and oro are the only people who don't find the fact you use the slime from those slugs in your potions or whatever absolutely disgusting, so we're the only friends you have to play in this gigantic forest with in the first place (it's not potions, it's a new medicinal gel I'm creating! and can you two just shut up? hide and seek is supposed to be a SILENT game and right now, you both really suck at it! I can literally locate you without even moving!) ...hey tsu, is mito-sama going to make those cookies she made last time again? she told me yesterday she would cause hiruzen-sensei told her we did a good job on our last mission.

the three of them knew everyone in Konoha had started calling them the 'Hokage's brats' behind their backs. but none of them realised that, particularly among the elders, this didn't seem to just be in reference to their sensei... there were other, more hushed whispers going around that if they had tried to listen to, would've sounded something like the adopted senjus... or lord first and second's legacies...

(these rumours may or may not have started when people started noticing tsunade's parents went from talking about their two children they adored, to their three rascals plus sweet little nawaki. or when mito kept comparing jiraiya's antics and personality to hashirama or orochimaru's brooding nature and hunger for knowledge was like tobirama's, or how tsunade's own hot temper and tenacity but also mischief was like her own's and the many Uzumakis that came before her, and that all three of them together balanced each other the way she, hashirama, and tobirama had. or when hiruzen constantly raves about his students and how much he sees his senseis in each of them and how the will of fire burns so brightly in them that he knew lord first and second would be extremely proud to see. in the end, though tsunade may have been the only one who shared a name with the senju founders, everybody couldn't help but see hashirama and tobirama and everything they had been and everything they had stood for in all three of the legendary sannin.)

[tell-them-the-north-remembers]

You're in the wind I'm in the water

Nobody's son Nobody's daughter

[imadhatt3r]

I can't stop thinking about Koujaku's name and sparrow motif...

So his name means "red sparrow"; And I'd imagine that he was most likely named by his mother. I don't think his father had much of a presence in his early life, and besides, I feel like a violent yakuza leader would want his son to have a more "powerful" sounding name. So it was probably his mom's choice.

I feel like she must've loved sparrows if she named her son after them. I can see her going out to parks and gardens just to see them, and taking older Koujaku with her to feed them too. They were always so cute and cheerful, so they always managed to lift her spirits whenever she was worried about her pregnancy, her partner, or future in general, so she decided to name her son after them, because she wanted him to lead life with the same qualities she saw in these birds: She wanted him to be joyful, resiliant, adaptable, and always surrounded by loving and like-minded people (since sparrows live in large groups). He was her little birdie since birth... 😭

I think that Koujaku grew fond of sparrows too, through seeing how much his mother loved them. Maybe that's why he wears a kimono with sparrows and picked Beni (a sparrow) as his AllMate. I can see him putting out a small bowl with grains on his windowstill to get some sparrows to come, like he used to do with his mom when they went to feed them, but with mixed results (sometimes they come and sometimes they don't).

Aoba picks up on it too; Whenever he's out doing deliveries and he spots a flock of sparrows foraging in a patch of grass or drinking and bathing out of a puddle, he takes a photo on his coil and sends it over to Koujaku, usually with some silly caption he comes up with on the spot. He absent-mindedly picks up any sparrow-themed knicknacks to give to Koujaku, all of which are deeply treasured and loved- if they're something like post-it notes, there's a guarantee that they'll never be used, and they will be lovingly stored in a drawer untill the end of times. Aoba actually bought an extra set of post-it notes and a pen with a sparrow-themed topper to keep at his desk at Hum-Drum.

This is more of a sidenote, but I always imagined Koujaku's mother as a rather short and frail woman, probably a bit shorter than Aoba, so the height difference between them now would be really big. I guess I was just touched by the image of Koujaku's mom cradling his head in her hands to have him look at her as she wipes away his tears with her thumbs... Her birdie's all grown up, but he'll always remain her little sparrow...

[an-established-butt-dent]

To sleep, to dream, to forget

AO3

Author: DazeChroma (that is me)

Cover art: an-established-butt-dent (also me)

Fandom: Dragon Age, Pairing: Solas x Lavellan, Words: 4,841, Tags: Post Trespasser, Angst, Lavellan deals with the emotional aftermath.

Notes: see end for notes!

There are a million ways to say goodbye, but they have yet to learn of a way that is final. After the Crossroads, Allana leaves everything behind and travels. She is alone, but for a wolf that keeps visiting her dreams.

To sleep, to dream, to forget

Lavellan knew the wolf haunting her dreams.

Perhaps she should fear the shadow lurking on the edge of her peripheral vision, but this was the Fade and she was in control of her dreams. She wore an enchanted amulet, beautiful, with the added benefit of preventing others from intruding on her dreamscape. A parting gift from Dorian.

Even one as skilled and powerful as the Dreadwolf would not be able to reach her, unless she let him.

But that was precisely it. She would never admit it out loud, but somehow had yet to force his presence away. To banish him from her subconscious. Instead, she had left a window open at a crack. 

Maybe it was confusion after their confrontation in the Crossroads. Maybe it was her anger, demanding more explanations from him.

Maybe she missed him.

Solas.

Mentally she scolded herself. She shouldn't use that name. The quiet apostate she had come to know, come to love, was not the same man planning the downfall of the world. Her heart was broken and Solas was dead, as much as he could be for having never truly existed.

But the Dreadwolf, Fen'harel, lived.

Ancient trickster god indeed.

Sometimes she tried to think of the elf from her memories as someone different altogether. A quiet mage lost in dreams who perhaps had planned to return to her. To explain why he left without goodbye after Corypheus' defeat. To bring reason to the many questions left unanswered and wounds left unmended. 

The Solas in this imagined life might have helped her shed the Inquisitor’s cloak. Might have held her in comfort throughout the emotional aftermath. 

Somehow it made the feeling of betrayal slightly easier to bear.

'-What we had was real'

The words left a bitter taste in her mouth still. 

Perhaps it had all been real to him. But to her it was an illusion.  

The wolf in sheeps’ clothing had not been the lover in her arms. The Dread Wolf had not been her companion, her advisor, mentor, friend, Vhenan- 

Denial was not a good look on her, but it gave her peace and quiet. 

And this chasm in her chest, this aching void pumping blood through numb limbs… It propelled her  forward. Yet, she felt devoid of the passion and perseverance that moved her before. 

Well.

You can't break what's already broken. Can't lose what you don't have.

-

After the Inquisition disbanded, she had felt lost. Alone.

She needed time to process everything: the loss of her arm, the long years fighting to end Corypheus and then building the world back up again only to be followed by the upheaval of the exalted council, the pain in her chest. Again there was a moment where the world spun on its axis, throwing everything she knew off-balance. Again.

She had come undone, the only thing keeping her together was the feeling of Revas’ long strides over the open plains. 

Only a Dalish would pick that name for a hart, but he earned his name, spirited and wild as he was before he accepted Allana as his rider. He was her only companion.

Her eyes scanned the horizon, but there was no silhouette following her. No shadow in the waking world.

She stayed clear of civilization, only stopping for provisions. She kept to herself, used her voice so little she almost forgot what it sounded like. 

She traveled for weeks like this, a strong pace forward. Needing to get away. Always away. Every moment spent in one place too long and her chest would constrict, a panic building that could only be relieved by the comfort of changing landscapes.

'You lied to me!'

She wanted to escape. To forget. 

She wanted to be wild like her hart. Wanted to be free.

Revas: her freedom.

Revas, revas, revas!

-

She drifted weightlessly through the fade. Time seemed to stand still as she floated through the pleasant warmth of her early memories.

No terror haunted her. No fear demon pulled threads of horrible memories across her vision. Nothing clawed at her. She was safe.

Only one shadow she could not shake. 

She could admit it, now. When the storms of her doubts and fears had quieted down, and she was not drowning, on the brink of being pulled under-

No.

Not now.

She breathed in, and out. At peace, you're safe, she told herself.

The storm calmed down.

He never truly showed himself at first. But she expected him to know that she could sense him.

It had been him, chasing the despair demons away in the nights before she had Dorian’s amulet. She had seen the flash of teeth and six red eyes prowling on the edge of her peripheral vision. Hungry, angry, but not for her. A lonely howl, a loud screech and a wolf had dragged the dark shadows away until she was alone once again.

The terror had melted away with the echo of the wolf's cry.

Curious spirits were discouraged from approaching her afterwards, and she could finally breathe with relief, knowing to expect a night of rest without waking in cold sweat from nightmares.

She scoffed, wondering what keeper Deshanna would say if she knew the presence of the Dreadwolf gave her some measure of comfort.

She would probably call upon all the ancient gods for guidance. To protect her lonely runaway Da'len from the Dreadwolf’s treachery.

But he has your scent.

And you have his heart.

-

She was almost at the coast now, where she would book passage for a ship to Starkhaven. She planned to cross the waking sea at Jader and travel to Antiva after a short stop in Kirkwall. Other than that she hadn’t decided on her plans for the future.

She had set up camp at a clearing near an old ruin. Then, she took her time to make dinner, enjoying her quiet surroundings and knowing this might be her last night sleeping peacefully under the stars for the coming week.

Revas would surely not be happy on a ship.

She looked regretfully at her hart, wishing there was another way to cross safely, without needing a ship or an Eluvian.

As she only had access to one of those options, her choice was made swiftly.

She climbed into her sleeping roll, twisting and turning until she lay comfortably on her side. Listening to her hart grazing nearby, she drifted off to sleep.

-

He had become bolder after she started wearing the amulet. 

Perhaps he wondered how she had found peace in her dreams? Perhaps her aura, pleasantly free of fear and despair, had pulled him in?

Could he sense the enchantment? Could he see she now had more control over the Fade? 

He had tried to teach her many times, but never had she managed this level of lucidity.

Did he observe curiously what strings she pulled, and which memories she traversed?

She always made sure not to dive into memories of their time as lovers. Those memories were locked away deeply, only to be revealed during waking moments of weakness where she allowed herself the time to wallow in her misery.

A slight change in the air alerted her to his presence.

Soundlessly, a shadow big as a hill moved over the horizon until she made out the shape of four clawed paws slowly treading over the grass-covered plane.

He held his head close to the ground, curiously following the invisible line of energy that lingered in her wake. Tracing her scent which was as recognizable and personal as a fingerprint in the land of dreams. Wisps of black smoke trailed his fur, distorting the landscape.

Sensing her, he slowly lifted his massive head as six red glowing eyes fixed themselves on her.

His name was on the tip of her tongue. She quickly swallowed it down, her throat suddenly dry. This was the first time he didn’t disappear as soon as they made eye contact. She was rooted on the spot, not moving an inch, afraid that any change would break the spell. The sudden wave of longing that washed over her came as a surprise. The sharp ache that quickly followed didn’t. 

Then there was anger.

He took one more step towards her and tilted his head to the side, giving the impression of being unsure if he was looking at threat or prey.

Hoping she was neither, she stood still. She could feel her heart beating in her throat, uncomfortably aware of the tension building in the air. It was like the climate changed and became hotter, the air sticky and suffocating, shaped by the emotions of her inner turmoil.

He took a step toward her, and then she felt the Fade shift.

It was her own doing.

Suddenly she was alone again, overlooking the same mountains where Skyhold stood proudly in the distance. Her home.

She felt relieved that she could breathe again. The air was lighter, the sky brighter, although everything in the fade had a disorienting, ghostlike quality to it. Colors were more intense and subdued at the same time, clouded by a mist you could see only when you focused on it intensely.

Her racing pulse calmed down as she kept her attention on the familiar mountains. Two falcons slowly circled the sky, its colors giving the impression of a setting sun.

‘He is only a stranger. A stranger you once knew’, she told herself over and over.

Yet, he did not scare her. At least not for the reasons one should be afraid of a massive ghostly wolf-shadow trailing their subconscious.

Perhaps she should have confided in Lelliana, Cullen or Josephine about his presence in her dreams. But the Inquisition was no more, so sharing these developments felt... too personal, too intimate. She didn't want to think about it. Nor, for that matter, did she want anyone else to.

The Dreadwolf has your scent.

Why was he still keeping his tabs on her, even after their goodbyes? 

'I will never forget you.' 

No of course not, idiot, if he kept following her like this! 

She could feel her anger shaping the Fade around her, the soft, wispy clouds and sharp mountain peaks crumbling. She was taken to a place darker. Deep down, deep roads, stone, damp air, echoes of fighting. A darkspawns’ screech bounced around on the slick walls of the chasm. Still far in the distance but growing louder with each panicked breath she took. The high pitch surrounded her. Darkness enveloped her like a suffocating blanket. The screams of the dead in her memories ringing like white noise in her ear, drowning out her thoughts except; ’Can’t breath!’.

Panicked, she started to run.

Feet thump, thump, thumping on the slippery stones. The echoes grew louder, a horde of demon’s awakened by the steady rhythm of her long strides. She was a hunter being hunted. The echoes of the past not brought forth by demon’s of anger or fear, but by her own traumatized subconscious. Looking for a way out.

Abruptly she skipped to a halt. Reaching for the amulet. 

There were no demons. They can’t reach her. 

All of a sudden she could hear a voice breaking through the clouds of her panic.

“Allana, breathe like we practiced, you are in control.” a strange voice resonated from the walls, seeming to come from all sides at once and yet far away. A voice she could recognize everywhere.

The revelation shocked her, but grounded her mind. The demons were drawing near. Memories, which could do no more physical harm unless she let them. Remembering what part would come next she needed to end it here. Right now.

She closed her eyes, taking a breath. 

In through the nose-

-one, two, three, four. 

Hold for five seconds, let go for six.

She opened her eyes and was again back looking at the sharp outlines of the Frostback Mountains.

The image shifted and the air smelled of spring. Warmth.

Soft winds blowing across open planes. A body of water flowing like a silver snake across the landscape, casting crystallized reflections on billowing trees. A group white halla taking off, startled by her sudden appearance. She watched them for a moment as they darted across the grass in a dance; a playful homage to freedom. They slowly disappeared along the soft edges of her dream, carrying memories of her life with the Dalish. Of an old home, and a life before the world was ending.

Safe.

On the horizon she could just see the tilt of the head of a wolf, watching from afar. Waiting.

She remembered the voice.

She could not suppress the shiver running along her spine. She wondered what would happen if she called out to him. 

She never did.

-

She missed her friends. 

Somehow her shadow in the Fade made her feel more lonesome. 

It almost became a routine. Push and pull. Following and being followed. It was like a game. She realized with some humor the parallel between their dynamic during the early inquisition years and now. Some things never change.

She would like to talk about her confusing feelings with someone that would understand. But who would? Who could sympathize with a woman, the herald, falling for the affections of the enemy in disguise?

When would she be strong enough to break the chains of their entanglement?

Did she not deserve some peace and quiet? To find out who she was without the responsibilities and expectations resting on her shoulders? 

But her work was not over.

She had considered stepping away, and letting things unfold without interfering. But she couldn’t. Tired as she was, she didn't know how not to be Inquisitor Lavellan. 

All she needed now was a plan. 

How to stop your ex-lover from destroying the world? Your ex-lover, who was, by the way, also an ancient Elvhen God and probably the most powerful Mage to walk the planet?

That did not sound impossible at all.

Damn, she really just kept handing out new book ideas to Varric, didn't she? 

-

Whenever the desire to reach out came up, she swallowed it down.

She didn’t want comforting words from her friends, nor their pitied looks and gentle skirting around certain subjects. 

'Are you sure you're alright? If you need anyone to talk to...'

After the Exalted Council she had turned down all invitations to her friends’ new lives for the time being. She promised to visit once she was ready, and that was enough for them to accept her evasion. For now.

Except Dorian was not having any of it.

He had cornered her the day before she was scheduled to leave. She hadn't wanted a goodbye but he had convinced her he was planning no such thing. 

"Only a present for my dearest friend. Looking as glum as you do I would almost fear sadness is contagious," he had said with a pout.

She had fixed him with a glare, but there had been no true malice behind it. Dorian was perhaps the only one not treating her as if she was made from glass. She appreciated that about him.

"You know a present is not going to convince me to join you in Tevinter, darling dearest," she patted his cheek patronizingly, batting her eyelashes for extra effect.

"Of course not! I wouldn't dare to manipulate you with something so banal as a gift. Who do you think I am? I would at least try to seduce you with my good looks first." He gave her an exaggerated wink and she couldn't stop something that almost resembled an honest smile. She raised her eyebrows at his flirtations. He was laying it on a little bit thick, even for Dorian's standards.

Perhaps humor was the only thing guarding the show of real concern from his face.

"Without further ado, then. Come on, hands out." 

He revealed a small package wrapped in cloth and tied closed with a string of leather.

She hesitantly held out her hand as Dorian sandwiched it between his own, the package a comforting shape in the palm of her hand.

She stared at their joined hands for a moment, swallowing whatever words she would have used to deflect his show of care.

He squeezed her hand once and let go.

"It's not going to unwrap itself, Allana."

She sighed, glad that his sarcasm broke through the tender moment. He knew she appreciated his friendship. She is also aware he's worried about her, like they all are. She was just bad at accepting any kind of support, afraid that leveling the slightest bit of weight from her shoulders would cause it all to come crashing down, burying her fully. 

She needed to be Inquisitor for only one day longer, to keep up the pretense of strength and composure. She could deal with whatever might come crashing down after she left. But not now. Not yet.

"Yes, yes," she huffed at his impatience. Maker, give a girl a moment to compose herself!

She unwrapped the bundle and found an amulet, the telltale pulse of enchantment around it. She looked up at him, waiting for the explanation that would no doubt come.

"This will give us an opportunity to communicate directly, no matter how far away you are. I know you will be miserable without my voice pestering you over the coming months," He pulled out a similar-looking amulet from under his collar and tucked it back, giving her a gentle smile. 

She blinked at the wetness threatening to spill over.

He grasped her shoulders and gently pulled her into a hug. She was glad for the excuse to avert her eyes.

Dorian never mentioned her not-so-subtle lack of grip on her emotions. He knew when she needed the space.

He continued, "It also helps you block out unwanted attention in the fade. No terror demons will find you when you sleep at night and no other spirit will be able to communicate if you don't wish for it. It keeps you bound to your own head, in a sense." She was not sure how Dorian knew about the kind of attention she’s received in the fade, but she’s touched nonetheless. 

"Thank you, Dorian," Ellana mumbles into the fabric of his tunic. "Don't expect me to talk every day though."

"No need, darling. It just makes me happy to know you ignoring me is a conscious choice, and doesn’t mean you are lying in a ditch somewhere."

She snorts, a very undignified sound. "After all I've been through, that ditch doesn't know what's coming for them."

"As long as that fighter spirit never leaves you, my friend," She chuckles wordlessly into his shoulder. She doesn't feel much like a fighter at the moment, although her rogue skills are a second instinct. 

She is tired. But she’s looking for something more comfortable than a ditch just yet.

"Thank you, Dorian."

"Don't get all emotional on me, darling."

She will miss him, but she has to go.

-

The nightmares that had plagued her for weeks vanished after she started to wear the amulet. It was truly Dorian to know the source of the bags under her eyes without her needing to say a word. 

'Bad night?' was all he had to ask, and the look she gave him was enough to know.

Years ago, about a month after he had joined the Inquisition, it had only taken one evening of getting drunk together in a cozy corner of the library to share all the secrets that haunted them at night. While the candles burned low, she learned how their experience of the future at Redcliffe had left a deep impression on them both. The red, terrible future of Corypheus’ would-be victory. Thankfully it was not a future she would have to experience again. That was at least one thing she got right.

He was her closest friend after that evening, their shared pain forming a bond like no other. Ha! Who would have thought. A Tevinter Magister and a Dalish elf? Well, she was never fond of living an ordinary life anyway. It takes one to know one.

The only thing haunting her now was a nightmare of her own creation. Made of pain, self loathing and longing, twisting uncomfortably in the hollow of her chest.

That is one thing the amulet will not help her with: the ghost of a broken heart.

She had yet to find a way to live with it, but time heals all wounds. Or so they say.

But then, why, after revealing his plans, did he tell her that he would like to be proven wrong once again? Why taunt her into resuming their game of evade and catch?

Except if you're called Fen'Harel. Too pridefull to accept your failure, somehow incapable of letting go of your evil plans to restore the glory of the ancient Elvhes and simultaneously doom the lives of all other living beings and the world as we know it.

Damn it all and damn his insufferable pride.

For someone refusing to call himself a god, he sure does like to play with the faiths of mortals.

And why did she believe the sincerity in his eyes when he said it? The pain in the tilt of his brow and the clench of his jaw, the way his voice broke when he said goodbye?

He had called her Vhenan, and walked away. Did she imagine the tremble in his hands, just before he stepped through the Eluvian?

Why had he kept himself hidden from her, lied to her, for years?

What makes a cause worth it, if you have to destroy so much on the way?

Why, Solas?

No, not Solas. Not anymore.

Fen'Harel.

-

She is going after him.

There must be a reason he can’t let her go. If he haunts her dreams, does that mean he still thinks of her when he’s awake?  It must mean that there is something still there, pulling her to him. Perhaps only a side effect of the magic from the anchor, but could it be something more?

He said once things were easier for him in the fade. All she knows right now is that he tried to reach out to her in a dream before she boarded the ship.

He even spoke her name when she got lost in a nightmare. He helped her escape her darkest thoughts. Why?

But was it really him in the dreams? Was this wolf form his true identity? Why doesn’t he show the face that she had come to know? Are the greys of his eyes even his true color? Or are they red and multiplied by three? 

In the dream she stepped away out of fear and that fear fuelled her subconscious mind. Afraid of confrontation. Scared to find a fresh tear in her threadbare composure, with the wounds still raw from his betrayal and abandonment.

To fall apart before him while she had slowly tried to mend the pieces back together, that was not something she was ready for.

She wasn’t strong enough.

How much has he kept hidden from her and how much of what he shared had been real?

Ugh, now there’s a terrifying thought.

Is it possible that he can be at more places at the same time. Dreaming while awake?

Being an immensely powerful immortal mage and all, she really has no exact idea of the extent of his power.

She looked out over the open expanse of the sea. Rippling waves and cutting winds shaping the world around her like a smudged painting of greys and muted pthalo greens. The salt had chapped her lips, and the strands of hair that had escaped her braid whip her face and wipe at her tears like feathered fingers.

She hadn't seen him in her dreams for the last three days, since setting sail on the open ocean. What did it mean? Did he ignore her perhaps?  Were there not enough spirits to whisper of her location? 

She was not going to admit to missing her grey shadow welcoming her to sleep for the last couple of months. 

Somehow being by herself for a few days, truly by herself, made it easier to recover her focus. She was not going to run away anymore. She could not abandon the world she once vowed to save. 

She made him doubt his perspective once before. She can do it again.

Right?

She is Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan, first of her clan. She has been many things in her short life; Herald, Dalish, knife-ear, a beacon of hope. Lover, friend, enemy. An anchor to the world behind the veil. 

She had united nations and destroyed treacherous plots. She had traveled through time and back again. She had fought nightmares, ancient darkspawn, dragons and demons. She has walked physically through the Fade, damn it!

She had fallen in love with a god. Had been betrayed by her lover. He saved her life and then took her arm.

She had promised she would not give up on him. He had said he would never forget her.

None of those experiences managed to destroy her, although they came close a few times. None of those titles made her forget who she was and what she believed in, and they will not be her undoing now. 

She was Elana Lavellan. They say heroes are not destined for a long life, but could she linger long enough to beat the Dreadwolf at his own game?

Did she even have a chance? Or would she end up petrified, a grey and decaying sculpture in the garden of his pride? Would they sing songs of the Dreadwolf’s lover? Would they say that if you listen closely to her chest you can still hear the beating of his heart?

The only reason she was still alive is because he willed it. 

That didn’t really sound like the equal and emancipated relationship she envisioned when she dreamed of the future long ago, now does it?

But the look in his eyes. The pain she glimpsed when he left her in crestwood. And then, the times where his body betrayed what the heart wanted. He had tried to hide it, but there was no doubt in her mind that he had desired her. The desperation in his kiss on the balcony at Skyhold. 'Ar lath ma', whispered like a confession, 'vhenan' a prayer on his lips. And then in the crossroads the gentleness in the movement of gold-plated fingers, grazing her ear and softening the pulsating pain of the anchor ripping her apart. His lips pressing to hers like it was the sweetest honeyed lie he told her yet. Like it wasn’t a goodbye. 

She is going to chase that last sliver of hope. It is all she has.

She must create a thread, to pull him from his web of plotting and lies. There must be some way to keep his focus on the value of this world. To show him it was worth saving. An anchor of some kind.

The journey at sea would take one more day at most. The best course of action would be to visit the alienage of Kirkwall. She had heard of the elves leaving the city, answering a call. She must be able to uncover one of his agent’s to dig for more information. Could she disguise herself? Without her arm she would always stand out like a sore thumb. Everybody knew the stories of the knife eared Inquisitor and her stolen arm. The Dreadwolf’s agent must know of her importance in the game. Knowing that she had been close to their leader once, she could turn out to be a potential weakness.

Okay, so first she would find a smith and fabricate herself an arm substitute. Oh how she missed Dagna. The dwarven woman must have had a million ideas for hidden daggers in a fake arm! She could meet with Varric in secret, and use his contacts in the city. She hadn’t planned to stay in Kirkwall for more than a day, but she’s sure her friend wouldn’t mind the surprise. He shouldn’t have given her the city's key if he hadn’t anticipated her showing up unannounced.

Okay, step one, disguise her arm. Step two, disguise her identity. Step tree: find more information.

What is Fen’Harel gathering the Elves for? Promises of a better world? Are they joining of their free will or is it some kind of death cult compulsion? No he wouldn't go that far… or would he? She has to find out. The more gaps in her knowledge about him, the wilder her imagination is going to get.

The ocean calms her mind. The harsh winds wipe away the doubt and leave her mind clear and focused.

She has a purpose, a plan. 

On the horizon she can slowly spot the soft outlines of Starkhaven forming in the distance. They are nearing land.

The wolf hunts alone, but she is lonely too.

And she is coming for him.

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

Notes:

My second try at writing a Solavellan piece, but the first one I ever uploaded on AO3! Hope you liked it. :)

Big thanks to my sister @colorandvigor for being my beta and having an amazing grasp of gramar. Note, english is not my first language.

x

[hunzzzzz]

The season 1 parallels to the s4 finale got me uncontrollably sobbing 😭😭😭😭

He had so much to give, he tried and tried and tried, but got knocked back down each time— I can’t rn —

It’s happening again, it’s all coming back to me now

[monsamborabutterfly]

There's something almost innocent and childlike about Boston when he's with Nick. I don't think he ever really had that before. Someone who said "hey I see you beyond your flaws and you're worthy of love".

And you can see how much he needed that. And in his very own way that most people just don't get he cherishes that. This is why I don't understand how people can say he never loved Nick. He did. It's written all over his face.

I guess that's one of the main reasons I was so sad for him. The fact that the one person he thought he could trust and open up to, the one person he thought gets him in a way that others don't told him he's better off alone and should stay alone cause he can't love the right way and therefore doesn't deserve love in return.

I don't blame Nick. Of course I don't. He did what was right for him in the moment. And I get why Boston's behavior hurt him. But I'm pretty sure he did break Boston's heart.