#non inquisitor oc

[atiredsalmon]

Savill, my Inquisition arcanist OC, working with the Veilguard as Lucanis’ babysitter because, as someone also possessed by a demon (Desire) he can see Spite and thought of the occasional ‘hey hey look at me jingle jingle’ interaction when Spite takes over has me giggling

[lunalorien]

Thinking about Dorian x Inquisitor and hoping for a reunion in Dragon Age: Veilguard 🙏

[darbylou-art]

Them ☀️ ko-fi 💚

[binabees]

Big Blue

“Athim to my friends. Fen’Emrys to others. Which one will you call me?”

[dolainiedola]

Templates for all three of my Dragon Age protagonists ( with Or'ielen's updated picture and template)

[roboticromantic]

Refs for a few members of Clan Lavellan! I still have some Traspasser/Post Trespasser refs planned for Thalia, but wanted to show off her Inquisition/Pre Trespasser looks first while I had them done.

Thalia is, of course, Inquisitor Lavellan, but first and foremost she’s the Clan’s first. While she loves and misses her old life, she’s proud of the work she’s doing as head of the Inquisition.

Vhenan’ara is the daughter of Keeper Deshanna, and is easily considered one of the best archers in the clan. She’s the one in charge of leading the hunts, and teaching the next generation how to hunt as well. After Clan Lavellan is almost entirely wiped out with nothing more than a small handful of survivors, she makes her home with the Inquisition with the rest of the clan, thankful that her sister is there when she needs her most.

[schubertgoobert]

If you see me down on my knees, please do not think that I pray.

Little pseudo-tarot card painting of Omen

[velnat004]

remade his face texture and also gave him more moles :3

[toreodaughter]

ᅠ ᅠᅠ ᅠ ✶ ꭺꭰꭺꭺꭱꮪ ; ᅠ⸻ ᅠwhere she begins, he ends. where she dances, he calls the music. where she bleeds, he pumps the blood into the water. where she speaks, he listens. where she lights the fires, he keeps the coals.

[reagan-the-saunders]

The Ghilas Dirthara <3 Since I've finally found a way for Ahlonira to become canon to my core worldstate, she finally gets a proper art piece. <3 She *is* of clan lavellan but is not my inquisitor. (You can find my actual inquisitor lavellan here and/or here)

I actually really love her character and how she ties into the different games (games PLURAL yes 👀✨)

ahlonira's refsheet

closeup below

[atiredsalmon]

Savill didn’t understand Compassion’s strange compulsion to clean the table built into the wall which surrounded the statue of Fen’harel in the Lighthouse’s courtyard, but he hadn’t bothered to ask, either. Demons had their urges and he supposed Spirits had them, too. Caretaker, is what Compassion called itself, and overseeing the state of the Lighthouse must have been a lingering sentiment from the ancient times of the elven rebellion. Now it guarded the current residents’ armor and weapons and enchanted them when asked with the appropriate runes. It’s name wasn’t Architect, however, and it’s knowledge ended at simple maintenance. Savill, however, was handy with more than just a mop and broom, and he could dignify the help by claiming the statue and it’s multipurposed wall was a type of relic. Perhaps not magical in and of itself, but Savill appreciated history just as much. He appreciated the view it gave him, as well. Savill could watch the ancient tower forever in its endless spinning top. He could measure the timeless passing of the Fade in the number of revolutions the floating islands made around the courtyard. Bellara was kind enough to join him for conversation at every trip between her quarters and Neve’s, entertaining him with summaries of the latest Tevinter serials and the wisps kept him company when she wasn’t. And when neither were around, he could look up from his work to distract himself with the sight of Lucanis’ training. A passing wisp, covered in Neve’s notes, floated across his gaze and while Savill glanced away from the shifting forms of the assassin to gently peel the pages off, he didn’t need to watch the final movement to notice the poor posture the man was making. “Are you attempting to strike a mark or a bronto,” Savill asked, shuffling the papers into order and storing them away into a hidden shelf beneath the table. Sound carried differently in the Fade, and Savill could clearly hear Lucanis’ unamused snort from across the courtyard. “Your elbow is held too wide.” “If a target is to move, I will need the reach.” “If,” Savill repeated with a small laugh. “A Crow preparing for a target with the opportunity to run? Perhaps the world is ending after all.” “And what do you know of Crow preparation?” “Only what the usual rumors teach.” Savill ran a palm against the stone of the table as he answered. The crack he had been asked to fix was no longer visible, but he could still feel it against his skin. It would have to do for now - unless the Fade could produce concrete. For now, it was providing him a bit of entertainment. He hopped over the edge of the wall and strolled across the uneven path of floating stones to stand besides Lucanis. “Some of the poisons the Crows use are well known enough to be made by the common man such as myself. I think I’m just as handy with a knife as a Crow, too, but I’m sure you’d have comments of your own. Killing, however…” Savill waved the rest of his thoughts away. Lucanis had lowered his daggers with an amused shrug of his shoulders. They stiffened, now, as Savill took a hold of one of his wrists and gently lifted his arm back into its previous, offensive position. He ran his hand up to the elbow, fingers light, tucking the joint closer to Lucanis’ side. Savill kept his hand there, a smiling slowly spread across his face as he felt the assassin’s skin warm through his shirt. “Killing, I must say, I have less knowledge than a Crow on. But I do have an incredible sense of anatomy.” Savill raised his other hand to press his palm against the assassin’s chest, fingers curled gently over the collar bone. His pulse pounded hard, and Savill felt more than just his own draw towards the man. “You don’t need to slit the throat to silence a man. Right here should do.” For a moment, Savill wondered if he truly had silenced Lucanis until a soft hiss escaped him. “Spite does not like you.” Savill pat Lucanis’ shoulder before drawing back, chuckling. “I don’t need him to like me.”

[ghilannainapologist]

actually yknow what. heres some really old art of my avvar inquisitor and her half-qunari daughter. the daughter (tonje) has the mark but she is only 12 so her mother (kindra) takes the mantle of inquisitor for her

[darbylou-art]

i love them so

ko-fi

[gobs-archive]

Two headshot commissions I got that I am 100% in love with.

Mara Tabris- @brother-genitivi

Asher Hawke- @forystr

All I need now is Valona to complete the set!

[freesidexjunkie]

WIP tag game

Thank you @kcwriter-blog for tagging me!! 💕 tagging @gammacrow @dutifullylazybread and @rosieofcorona (sorry if you already got tagged by someone else)

Sharing a snippet from the working version of chapter 7 of my solavellan fic. You can read the first six chapters here on AO3. Not exactly entirely on hiatus while I struggle thru this semester, but I have had very very little time or spoons to transcribe from my notebook onto the computer so I can actually upload.

I focused instead on summoning and unsummoning a small flame at my fingertips. Pop, crackle, sizzle, over and over again. In, and out. “You don’t have to come check on me, Solas. I’m fine,” I said.

“I know,” he replied, cupping a young flower in his hand to inspect it. “I merely thought I might enjoy the fresh air.”

“Maybe I wanted all the fresh air to myself,” I answered sharply as the next flame popped and sputtered out.

Solas only smiled to himself as he eyed the flame. “Perhaps I wanted to make sure you didn’t burn the courtyard down, then.”

“Very funny,” I replied with a snort as I tried to suppress a smirk.

“May I sit?”

He was gesturing to the empty spot on my left. I did think about sending him away, for a moment, as I stared into the burning flame growing higher in my palm. “Fine,” I finally sighed out, “if you aren’t worried about getting set on fire, that is.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he said as he sat down on the edge of the fountain. “You seem to have some mastery over it. I think I should be safe, as long as I don’t provoke you.”

I felt a wry smile tug at the corner of my lips. “You think so little of me? Was my tantrum that bad?”

“You’re too hard on yourself, lethallan,” he said. “Besides, I’m sure you wouldn’t throw a fireball at me unless I truly deserved it.”

“And sometimes, not even then,” I replied as I bumped my shoulder into his knee. The easiness of the gesture quickly turned into something sickening and guilt, twisting my chest like a vice. I could scream and rage at him all I wanted, but that didn’t seem to change how much I wanted to slip back into our old, familiar patterns. It would’ve been too easy to want to stay there, leaning into his legs while the world spinned on into chaos around us. But I didn’t, instead awkwardly swaying away and going back to work on my flames. “I wouldn’t risk scorching Josie’s gardens, at least.”

He cleared his throat as I leaned back away; or maybe choked a bit. “Yes, well… It is impressive magic. Did it take much practice?”

My concentration on the mindless casting broke as I considered it, flexing the metal fingers as I turned my forearm this way and that. “Sort of? Some of it, yeah, but not the… well, this. It’s just something to do with my hands, really.” I answered. “It’s different than casting through a staff, though. I did shock myself a few times with lightning magic. But it’s like… just directing the magic a bit differently. It took some practice, but it’s not exactly hard.”

He stared at the arm as I explained, blue glowing deep within the golden-hued metal. “Remarkable,” he replied.

“What, your spies didn’t bring you a full report?”

“You overestimate the extent of my involvement,” he said, though his cool exterior cracked when I cut a skeptical look at him. With a nervous chuckle, he continued. “I… all I know is that it was crafted by the dwarven arcanist from the Inquisition. I did not press my people for more. I wasn’t lying when I said I have tried to stay out of your affairs.”

I eyed him for a moment, letting him sweat just a bit longer before speaking. I hummed a little sound in response, propping a cheek on my knee to look at him with the smallest of amused little smiles. “You’re a terrible liar,” I said.

“I never claimed not to be,” he answered, his cheeks coloring as he tried to avoid looking me in the eyes. He angled himself a little more towards me - or more towards my arm, as his staring suggested. “Are you… how much control do you have over it, exactly? When casting, I mean. Is it–”

“As much control as you have over your staff, at least,” I answered. “And don’t think I can’t tell how hard you’re trying not to drool over it.”

“I’m not–” He stopped short, letting his defensiveness dissolve as he caught my poorly hidden smirk. “Yes, of course,” he said with a small huff of laughter. “It is an impressive bit of enchantment. I was merely curious about how it worked.”

“Is that your way of asking to see it?”

“I… no. I wouldn’t want to bother you any more than I already–”

“It’s fine,” I said, extending the enchanted arm up towards him. “I don’t mind, I suppose. It’s not like I have anywhere important to be, anyways.”

Solas glanced back and forth between me and my arm with a cautiously guarded look, as if he was deciding whether this was some sort of trap. Which was ridiculous, anyways – if I wanted to do something to him, I already would have. I shook my arm at him a little with an impatient look. “Well?”

Carefully, gingerly, he took the proffered hand in his own and began examining it. Slowly, his cautious reluctance relented to his curiosity. He was careful at first not to twist or pull on anything as he looked over it – overly so, like he thought it might break if he did something wrong. But the blue glow of the lyrium and the soft thrum of magic quickly pulled him in, and he leaned in over the arm to examine it more closely. “Interesting… Is it fully functional? In terms of spellcasting, I mean.”

“More or less,” I answered, looking at my arm instead of Solas. “There’s a cap on the output. I don’t think I’ll be casting any huge fireballs with it, but I haven’t found any magic it can’t do at all.”

He gave that a hum as he continued to look over the arm. He looked thoughtful and curious, completely lost in study as he continued to ponder its inner workings. I found myself staring at the furrow of his brow and the tilt of his jaw as he thought, uncomfortable again with how horribly familiar this all felt. Solas turned my arm gently so that the palm was facing upwards, supporting it in one hand while he leaned over it. During all of this, I was sitting stock still, trying not to stare at the way his eyes darted over my arm and to breathe like a normal person while he worked. I knew I couldn’t really feel any sensations on that arm, but every delicate touch and thoughtful look still seemed to send shivers through me. It’s just an arm. He’s seen much worse, I thought to myself, unhelpfully as I felt my cheeks getting warm.

“Could you cast something now? Like what you were doing early,” he asked.

I let out a breath I had been holding as I forced myself back to the real world. “Depends. How attached are you to your eyebrows?” I asked, to a seemingly unamused audience. “Kidding. Let go.”

He did, and I gratefully took the chance to slide a bit back to a safer distance. Summoning up my concentration, I focused my mana to channel through my arm, just like I would any staff – but with less force behind it. A small swirl of snow and ice began to dance around my finger tips before coalescing into a small whorling ball of flakes in my hand, like the inside of a snow globe set free. But Solas’ eyes weren’t on my showy display; rather, he was watching the glowing seams between metal plates and connections as the lyrium inside reacted to my magic.

“Curious,” he said. “It has a much larger supply of lyrium than I’d expect. With your magical talent, you should be able to cast larger spells with ease if you just–”

“Yeah, if I wanted my arm to blow up in my face,” I said, interrupting his train of thought. “Dagna capped it on purpose. If I pushed it too far with a staff, I could just drop it and run, but I can’t get rid of a limb so easily. And, as it stands, I try not to break my fancy, irreplaceable toys.”

“Ah. Of course,” he said, still examining the lingering glow. “A kind gift. It suits you.”

I looked over my own arm, running a finger over the rivets and carvings on it. Dagna had made it as a custom piece, of course; a surprise, with me in mind in seemingly every detail. Crafted from dragon bone and aurum, decorated in delicate floral motifs and running vines carved into the metal – and a shitload of lyrium to power it and hold all the enchantments together. “Elegant, ingenious, and surprisingly deadly. Just like you, Inquisitor!”

“Well, Dagna’s a kind person,” I said quietly, still reminiscing over it.

“Even so, I doubt many others could inspire such a gift,” Solas said, turning ever so subtly in his seat towards me. “You have a… goodness of spirit, a kind of manner about you that people are drawn to, it seems.”

Was that butterflies in my stomach, or cement? I shifted against the ground, uncomfortable with both possibilities. “Solas, don’t. I–”

“I don’t say it to try and flatter you,” he said, looking now at me instead of just my arm. “I say it because it is true. You have a gift for making yourself agreeable. A sincerity that endears people to you. Sometimes, against all sense,” he continued, the last words almost under his breath.

I rolled my eyes as I looked off into the garden. “‘Against all sense?’ Gee, thanks.”

“I don’t mean– Like Josephine and Leliana. Ready to help you at the drop of a hat, despite the… company you brought,” he said.

“Or like you?” I added quietly, twisting the grass under me with my fingers as I looked down.

“I… in some ways, yes,” he answered, just as quietly. Why did that still feel like such a stab to the heart, after two years? I tried to hide the involuntary sharp breath I took with a small nod, looking ahead at the ground with a carefully measured face, determined not to betray anything either way. Solas seemed to recover quicker than I from the unexpected question, however. “I imagine it is much the same in your personal life. You were always well liked in the Inquisition, too; surely, in Wycome, you don’t lack for friends or… or… what have you.”

The way he faltered on the last bit, despite trying to sound so sure of himself, made me snort in spite of myself. “Is this your way of asking if I’ve been seeing anyone else?”

The words were out of my mouth before I even realized the weight of what I was saying, or who I was saying it to. I froze, grass in my fingers forgotten, dread overtaking me as I carefully looked over to see Solas’ reaction – which was almost worth my own mortification, at first. He made a sound like he was choking on something as his face blanched, then blushed. “Of course not,” he balked. “I mean, I would not presume– it isn’t my concern if you– whoever you choose to… keep company with, it is not my–”

“Solas, we really don’t have to have this conversation. I don’t even know why I said it, it just came out. I…”

He stopped to get a handle on his floundering as I spoke, letting out a deep breath as he did. “It is not any of my business. I would never try to… to pry into your personal life. I would hope that you are still happy, of course. However you choose to–”

“Please, stop talking,” I said, burying my face into my knees to hide how red I was turning. “Gods, even if… I think I would rather drown myself in the fountain than have this conversation right now, Solas.”

[secret hidden content that I’m not done working on yet and don’t have to a place I am even remotely okay with putting it out there yet but it’s good okay I promise it’s gonna be good]

“...of course,” he muttered, making a small nod.

“Thank you,” I muttered into my legs, with an exacerbated and thoroughly embarrassed huff as I peaked my eyes back out over my knees.

AHHH anyways thank you if you read this far! Here'a some art of the prosthetic arm in this chapter from @the-scottish-art-guy as a thank you

[a-gay-bloodmage]

Day 27: Road 

(Thom x Mallory Trevelyan)

When the Anchor acts up in the Inquisitor’s sleep, Thom Rainier is pulled into one of Mallory Trevelyan’s dreams. He encounters a man he hardly recognizes in a tavern in Markham, on the road away from Ostwick and toward anywhere else.