#oc: ellowyn lavellan

[anoramactir]

ellowyn lavellan.

[asoulonfire]

Dragon Age Fanfiction I’ve started but might never finish

Just for fun, I thought I would share with you lovely people some of the document names of the far too many DA fanfics I’ve started and might never finish along with their ‘elevator pitches’. Please feel free to ask about them! I’d love to talk about them!

Most of them are just an idea that I don’t know where to go with. Most of them (all of them) are Solavellan or Solas/OC.

Ellowyn’s Retelling - first DA fanfiction I started writing. A Post-Trespasser Lavellan goes back to Pre-Conclave and makes one change that results in her not being the Herald. 

Joan in Thedas - Joan is pulled through the Fade to Thedas by Venatori. Is suddenly an elf. Is found by Inquisition. Is tropey as fuck.

MGIT- The Angry One - sometimes I just want to write an angry main character. So this is that. Also Solas in this one is MUCH darker and more devious that in ‘A Soul on Fire’.

Past Lives of Thedas Club - Reincarnation, world travelling and a Qunari Inquisitor who is an avid birdwatcher. *shrugs*

Post-Apocalypse Thedas - Solas’s plans ‘cause the world to die and Thedas to become a wasteland. Everything is horrible.

Solas in the Modern World - Post-Trespasser Solas ends up in the modern world. Ta da!!!

The Switch - OC and the Inquisitor body switch Freaky Friday Style. Or as I like to call it, Modern Girl in Thedas trope meets Thedas Girl in Modern Age.

Weekend with the Dread Wolf - second fan fic I started. Solas in the modern world again. This is just a short bit... maybe I’ll finish it someday.....

Where the Inquisitor is pregnant ‘cause why not - The Inquisitor got unknowingly knocked up before coming to the conclave. It begins with a beautifully timed scene of her running to throw up in the middle of one of Solas’ speeches on the Fade. Queue the hilarity.

[anoramactir]

ellowyn lavellan.

[anoramactir]

ellowyn lavellan and maxfield trevelyan, drawn by jrporpora! roberta was a pleasure to commission, and i’m absolutely in love with the final product.

[anoramactir]

maxfield trevelyan and ellowyn lavellan, by nikemv. a huge thank you to nike for this amazing art! i’d really recommend commissioning them if you can.

[anoramactir]

❛ you’ve got something they don’t . ❜

i am so sorry for taking your lovely prompt and making it about my oc/oc ship, but i hope you enjoy this anyway!

Mid-morning, yet still they lie in bed, wrapped around each other to stave off the chill. It’s not often that they get a day off – weeks upon weeks spent chasing the Inquisitor all across thedas – and so they’ve made up their minds to enjoy it. Ellana’s head rests on Maxwell’s chest, his hand carding gently through her hair, and her eyes have just drifted shut when he speaks. “Do you hear that?”

She listens. Birds chirping in the trees, the wind whistling through the mountain air, the clash of swords down below. (Cullen must be training already. when did it get so late?) She shifts to face Maxwell, her eyes lazily blinking open. “Hear what?” she questions, fighting back a yawn. It’d be so lovely to fall back asleep, to let Maxwell’s arm around her keep the rest of the world away. Whatever has captured his attention can keep, surely?

She feels more than hears his chuckle, his chest rumbling under her cheek. “Are you falling asleep again?” he asks, voice laced with amusement. And perhaps she should take offense – he is laughing at her, after all – but his joy is quickly becoming one of her favorite sounds. She buries her face in his tunic, hiding the sight of her smile. After a moment, Maxwell continues. “The templars are training down below.”

“They do that every morning, Max.”

A beat of silence, long enough that she feels the first stirrings of concern. Ellana’s eyes open once again, far more alert than they had been before. She’s just about to prod him when, at long last, Maxwell lets out a sigh. “Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened had I not… left the order.” Been kicked out, he doesn’t say, but she hears the words all the same. She can feel the ache behind them, a wound that has not yet scarred. “I never wanted to be a templar, not really. But— i should be doing more.”

Oh. She hates this old hurt that she cannot ease, hates even more that she’s glad for it’s presence. She cannot bear the thought of him as a templar, fighting off the lyrium that has already taken so many. “Max,” she murmurs, reaching up to trace a hand against his cheek. He turns into the touch, pressing a kiss to her palm. “How can you say that? You have something that they don’t.”

He smiles at her, but there’s something sad in the expression. “And what’s that?”

“Heart,” she says, fierce and true, “bravery and kindness, more than I can even say. You’ve done so much for the Inquisition already, vhenan. We’re so lucky to have you.”

This time, his smile is a little stronger.

[anoramactir]