#oh look an apostate-

[mustycorner]

Chaos doodle I turned into lighting practice… we love a lil arson up in Kirkwall, aye? Alec was so much fun to play, and purple hawke is a blast.

On my second play thru now as Male!Mage, and not being able to lock pick or see traps is (literally at times) killing me. Fist of the Maker *slaps* though, pun intended…. Will have to draw him sometime, hhhh :’D

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

my greatest achievement in DA2 is maxing out Carver's friendship

and all it took was begrudgingly kissing a little templar ass in act 1 because Carver didn't want to plan a prison break if my Hawke got his ass arrested for being stupid.

[aloekat]

🍫 chancellor lapin cadbury 🐇

=====

bulb above i think about this chocolate rabbit WAY TOO MUCH!!!

he's no riz gukgak or barry syx but there is just. something about him. he's so cool and interesting. as a random youtube comment i saw said, "zac oyama plays low intelligent/himbo characters as a blessing for brennan" and it SHOWS with lapin, it really does.

so yeah here's a fun little sketch of him! i think it turned out very silly :]

==========

reblogs > likes but any interaction is greatly appreciated :D! tysm for seeing my art regardless :]

[chernychnyi]

i usually like my dragon age love interests to contrast my characters somehow and yet the desire to romance emmrich as a fellow academic... would it be weird if he peer reviewed my papers before. would it be unprofessional

[venvellan]

creds to @/dailydragonage on twitter (L platform) but like IS THIS REAL!?? UNIRONICALLY?

they did him so fucking wrong. if THIS was the only alternative i'm GLAD he wasn't in the game. love him or hate him we can all agree this is FOUL right? like this is so uncalled for

[krems-chair]

I'm always interested in analyses that portray a romanced Solas as a predatory hee hee trickster god manipulating a young and impressionable Lavellan into falling for him and if that's your world state go ahead and live your truth b/c it's frankly none of my business, but I sincerely think there are those who forget that for a lot of people, a romanced Lavellan is (with all due respect to my own Solasmancing Inquisitor Rielle Lavelllan) batshit crazy. Having her boyfriend turn out to be a wolf god is honestly the least of her problems but oh boy is she unafraid to become one to fix this mess.

This is a woman who woke up in a dungeon with a glowing hand, figured out she could fix the world, and thought "fuck it, it's not like I'll have anything else better to do if Corypheus sticks around. Also. Everyone here kind of looks like they want to kill me, so maybe I'll stick with the protective powers that be for a minute." And then all of five seconds later she gets her hand snatched by a sketchy elven apostate who knows exactly what to do with her shiny new powers and cannot stop himself from having a Mr. Darcy level hand-flex after he lets it go (in my heart and soul this happens just out of the camera's gaze) and goes "hmm maybe there's something to be said for this world saving thing."

This is a woman who brought an entire fucking avalanche down on herself and three of her closest friends (and I do mean closest as in physical proximity, she doesn't know these people who are looking at her like she's Thedas' Next Top Idol) because even if it killed her it was the proper middle finger to send to the wannabe god bringing his army tap-dancing down the mountain pass towards her on the one night she had scheduled off to celebrate finally taking a W.

This is a woman going Take 2 Electric Boogaloo on waking up with no idea where she is and learning she was successful in spite-dragging herself up a different fucking mountain in a blizzard. Except now everyone is fighting wait nope now they're Kumbaya-ing a song Andraste's Herald should really probably be familiar with whoops, oh thank God, time for a side convo with the same apostate who's been trying to turn her entire life into a history class only for her to dive in headfirst (much to his initial abject horror) and get that good good discourse she needs since she can't go around arguing with everyone else like she wants to. "The orb is ours." You know what? Of course it is. But if they need the world saved from an elven oopsie, who better to right things than an elf? Fuck it, we ball.

This is a woman who misses being close to nature and goes positively feral at Skyhold, yeeting herself over balconies and banisters and turning the ancient fortress into her personal parkour playground because she's got energy to work off and shit to do, and if the path of least resistance to hunt down everyone she needs to talk to is coincidentally the same path that will absolutely wreck her knees by the time she's sixty, that's just how it has to be.

This is a woman who finds herself back at Haven with a man she's found it possible to be unfetteringly unabashedly herself with and thinks, "hey, maybe there could be more than the flirations we've exchanged over heated discussions and philosophical deep-dives, maybe I can have just one smooch as a treat." And when she feels her slowly unfurling passion reciprocated only to be shut down? She resolves herself to fight for this fledgling love and all the fade tongue that comes with it. This is a woman who gets the tiniest glimpse of what a retirement plan might look like after this whole saving the mortal world thing and buys all the way in.

This is a woman who has Grey Wardens to save from themselves, an empire trying to self-cannibalize, and still finds the time to go rescue a spirit because she, as a fellow comrade caught up in this mess, knows damn well that no innocent deserves to suffer if she can help it while she's got this insane amount of power she never asked for. And if that happens to lead to the man she feels safe enough to nap on the library couches with confessing at last the feelings she knows he's been smothering beneath his all-too-collected surface? Yeah, she'll take that W.

This is a woman who gets absolutely blasted head-over-ass into the fade and goes "honestly things were going a little TOO well." This is a woman who sneaks a peak at the closest fears of the companions she's come to know and love and goes "not on my fucking watch." This is a woman who sees that the man she forces herself to learn the old language for, her vhenan, fears being alone more than anything in the entire knowing world and resolves herself to ensuring it never comes to pass.

This is a woman who gets the opportunity to shape the government of a straight up country and runs around collecting wooden fucking halla in a palace full of elven servants with no time to dwell on that particularly cruel irony because out here it's scheme or be schemed. This a woman who collapses against a balcony railing after putting out some of the sickest literal and metaphorical dance moves The Game has ever seen, resigned to bear her ever-increasing burdens alone, only to find her heart and his horrible horrible hat extending a hand, promising her that if he is not alone, then neither is she.

Like, do you feel me here?

And then he dares to think something as sudden and damning as the truth is enough to keep her away? The queen of tough conversations and tougher choices? No, no, dear readers who have made it this far into my descent into madness.

Inquisitor Lavellan is a master-class in encouraging the odds against her to fuck around and find out. She is a rift-mending false-god-bashing politcally savvy terror upon all of Thedas. Solas (and all of the living breathing world) is lucky she took time out of her busy schedule to notice the way his smile softens when talking about spirits or appreciate the fluidity of his form when they're obliterating venatori out in the field. This man cradled her cheeks in his shaking hands, looked into weary and wide eyes and called her beautiful, and had the audacity to steal her heart before trying to peace out and take it with him.

If she's got to track down a real god this time and frog march him into the fade to reclaim both her heart and the future she fought for because all he wants to do is launch himself like a meteor towards achieving his greatest fear, if she has to spend hours lecturing him on the sheer audacity of his ass while spirits float by and realize they're grateful they never had the chance to take on a body and subject themselves to a verbal lashing this brutal, if she has to do cartwheels around him while dropping all sorts of sweet nothings in the language she is now quite proficient in until he gets it through his luminous gleaming skull that when she said "var lath vir suledin" my girl meant it? Then that's what she's going to do.

"I wish it could, vhenan."

Oh it's going to, buddy. Buckle up to get wrecked, to get absolutely loved and cherished you fool, because Inquisitor Lavellan is not the Dread Wolf's prey, she's his hunter.

[syn0vial]

as much as it dismays me to know how much they took of boba fett's legends characterization and handed it to din djarin, i am amused that even though they replicated fett's "suddenly expected to remove helmet in front of people for the first time in decades" bit, fett's reasons for feeling uncomfortable and din's are still so different. it's like

din: oh no no no, this can't be happening. am i an apostate now? will i ever be able to call myself a mandalorian again? do i even have a purpose anymore now that i've broken my vows? this is the worst day of my life 😭

boba: people... can see my face? and what it's doing? how am i supposed to have any privacy??? jfc, that person just made eye contact with me. what the fuck. am i supposed to be doing something with my face rn? how am i even supposed to eat when people are looking at me?? what the fuck.

din's got religious trauma and meanwhile fett is just Like That

[felassanis]

I genuinely think Lavellan is the first relationship Solas has had. Especially an explicitly romantic one.

Veilguard Spoilers ahead. But regardless of what the primary nature of his relationship with Mythal was. There clearly was an infatuation. A dedication so raw back then that I genuinely don't think Solas was looking at anyone else but Mythal. Either because he longed for her in some (arguably unrequited) capacity or the loyalty he had for her trumped any other distractions.

But then. She dies. And he grieves, and he ultimately destroys the world in that grief. And he's spent thousands of years away from Mythal. And while he's still obviously dedicated to her, the rawness of that bond has simmered.

And then he meets Lavellan.

"It's been a long time," he says when you tease him about him using fade tongue. And while yes, you could see this as Solas confirming he has had prior romantic relationships. I actually think it refers to Mythal, to the fact it's been a long time since he's felt so close to somebody.

We know ancient elves felt operated differently than modern-day elves when it came to expression in a relationship. What we think is romantic might not have been as such back then. So I'm NOT saying Solas is inexperienced, but rather, I do think the only bond he's had that consumed him completely, that was loving, was Mythal. Until he meets Lavellan.

There is a genuine...newness to the relationship. There are so many instances where Solas seems so mildly surprised by Lavellan's actions. For the care she puts into their relationship. My favourite being when Lavellan promises to protect him in Haven from anyone looking to hurt him because he's an apostate elf. The way his eyes widen and he says "...thank you," like he's never experienced someone looking out for him so...outwardly. So willing to put his safety as a priority. (And that makes me sob cause oh my god I wonder if anyone cared about Solas's safety ever)

And I genuinely think his bond to Mythal coloured Solas's expectations when it comes to any relationship, especially a romantic one. It's like Solas isn't used to someone reciprocating HIS feelings lmao. And that's doubly apparent in the Solavellan ending, I think. Lavellan and Solas's interactions are so interesting because Solas GENUINELY has not let himself believe for nearly 10 years that Lavellan forgave him. Cannot believes she is even there, willing and wanting to save him from himself.

This does not strike me as someone who's used to relationships. To the give and take. The safety. The sustainability....

I think Solas spent so long yearning for the reciprocation he never received from Mythal only to get it finally with Lavellan. He longed for Mythal to reciprocate, and she didn't. Not until she finally shared the burden of their actions at the end. And there is no comfort in that burden now being acknowledged by her. She releases him from her service and vanishes as he's left to double over by himself.

At least he would be, but lavellan is there to lower herself to his level and comfort him. They're equals where Solas and Mythal were not. Solas is not Lavellan's lapdog. And she is not warped and changed by him as she offered to do so back in Trespasser. He didn't let her come with him to avoid the fate that befell him when he followed Mythal. They're Partners. Lovers.

And even THEN. EVEN THEN. Solas is shocked Lavellan wants to go with him to the Fade. To the point his eyes tear up, he CRIES. Warning her away but you can see in his face he is fucking DESPERATE for her to follow. Because he wants to love and have that love returned at long last.

And it is. It finally is.

[salemcantupdate]

Apostate/On the run/Freedom

Process and thoughts under the cut

Gahhh ok I’m. It the most proud of this one. I feel like I could do so much more and make it look a lot nicer, like adding detail to the npcs faces and stuff. But by the lord I do not want to, that takes way too much energy right now. Honestly I think the most of these that I’m doing are well suited to “first drafts”.

Also @andersweek2025

Anyways, this is basically a scene stripped straight out of @thethirdamells Accursed Ones, though I forgot Anders specific hair and outfit situation so I just snagged it from the concept art. I had a few other considerations, but oh boy. Not a single one would have been easy that’s for sure.

[ar-ghilas-vir-banal]

I’m so far down this spiral oh my God.

You’re Solas. You’ve had an existence of tragedy and pain and just… awful. So much awful. You’ve been hurt and you’ve hurt. You’ve ended the world. You had to. You never wanted this. You never wanted a body or to leave the Fade or to exist in this way. You wanted to be Wisdom.

Your friend branded you as a slave. She said you aren’t but… Why would she do such a thing? You try not to think about it.

Your friend convinced you to extinguish the magic and spark of an entire race. And you do it. And you’re sick. You’re sick and you can’t get well. But… it was what your friend wanted. And you loved her and… isn’t this how you love people?

She dies. You warned her, you begged her and she still… and they killed her. Her own family killed her. You’re rage. Rage and grief and you have to do something. Vengeance. Her blood calls out for it. And yours does too. The lyrium in your very bones sings for it.

And then it’s all… dead. Gone. Imprisoned. You’re nearly dead yourself. And so you sleep. For so very long, you sleep.

But now you’re walking the in the millennium aftermath of it all. You know you’re becoming something rotten not too long into this fight. Felassan fails. You don’t care about why. You don’t listen to him. Your rage rises up and you strike him.

And you’re truly alone now.

Perhaps you should’ve always been.

So you bear down and while you lack much of your former power… you find you aren’t above acquiring a tool for the job.

This admittedly horrible plan messes all the way up trying to fix what you’ve done and an innocent Dalish woman gets caught in the crossfire, one of the people who whom you’re hoping to return themselves, and now she’s got a piece of the Veil stuck in her hand.

Great. Well. Time to try to fix this enormous mess and refuse to admit that if you go through with your ultimate goal, the whole world’s going to look like this.

And then you start to fall for this woman. Not only is she a firebrand of simple goodness and kindness, she’s quite kind to you. She reaches out to you for wisdom and advice and talks with you, not at you. When you reach back to her, she meets you in the middle and tries her very best to understand. And then she protects you with the flimsy, unstable shield that your own mistake s have branded her with. She protects you in this world that hates elves and mages and apostate elven mages even more.

Your friend is bound and corrupted and she runs off to the Exalted Plains to help them. She weeps at your side as you grieve. She gives you space and then when you come back, she welcomes you with gladness. She tells you if ever you must grieve again, she’d like to be there.

She kisses you.

And you clutch her into your arms, and then again, because you suddenly realize your entire being has been yearning to touch and be touched by her for so long. You’ve never experienced anything like this. It’s intoxicating and agony and fire and the very air you need to breathe.

You are tempted to run but… you’d be without her. And you ask her to just sit and talk and she obliges, happily. She enjoys you. This mortal creature who you’ve branded with doom; she enjoys you.

You then start to wonder: has she always been this way? Maybe the Mark’s done something to her? Maybe it’s done something to me too; maybe it’s why I can’t stay away from her. So you ask and she just “mm. No, I’m me.” And you’re so incandescent about this that you shock yourself.

You tell her you’ve not forgotten the kiss. And she smiles like the dawn rising over the mountains. And you try to leave. “It would be kinder in the long run.” But she bids you stay…

You can’t fit her inside your body. But you try. You keep your hands from clawing their way into her clothes and skin but your arms lock around her like they were made to do that, and only that. You want to protect her too. You want to leave it all. You want to be Solas and her to be a simple Dalish woman and to live in the quiet woods with her and dance under the stars.

You get to. At Halamshiral, you draw her into your arms and dance until you forget you have feet and until the music is long abandoned to the sounds of night.

She does something so incredibly stupid at the Well. You want to claw your face off because she’s agreeing to what you did. She’s signing away her freedom… but then she tells you “I’ll use this to help this world as best I can”. And you feel… so seen by a person who can’t possibly see…

You will tell her. You’ll tell her everything. But when you stand in Crestwood, in the ruins of everything you did to get here… you can’t. You panic and you lie in that true way you have so it isn’t a lie but it isn’t what you meant to say. She lets you remove her culture, erase herself from who the people have become. She’s like you now. And oh whatever gods there be, she’s so beautiful that you feel like you could stare into her eyes for eternity… but… what have you done?

You’ve taken from her something she didn’t truly want to give up. You’ve made her change because you wanted her to. You’ve enforced your will on someone you told, you loved them. You’re Solas… you’re not Mythal.

You will not do this to her.

So you do then what you can only conclude is right by her. You break her heart and you break your own and there is somehow a worse pain than anything you’ve suffered before. She’s right there. All you need do it extend a hand, whisper one word. And the awful part, you’re so in love with her. You can’t help but watch her steps and listen for her voice and…

You need to leave.

You do. And you get to work. Two years crawl by. And you have your ear out for her still. It’s all part of the plan you tell yourself but you just want to keep a tether there in some form and you know you do.

Seeing her again is like falling on a spear. Shes dying. You knew she would. You knew she’d come too, curious and determined as ever. But you didn’t expect to hear her scream in pain and collapse in front of you. You go to your knees with her. You… you have to kiss her. Just one more. And you save her… you take her arm.

She tells you your love will endure and you could howl in anguish. She still loves you?! After all this? After what you’ve done? You watch the Fade bleed from her body. You ache to gather her up and take her with you. She even asked to go with you. But you know what the Evanuris were in their determined goals… what you’ll be by the time you’re done. Let her remember you as Solas… the apostate mage with stories and paint under his nails, who loved her helplessly.

You will not allow her to become another Felassan.

Eight years pass and while you’re at work, deeply committed, restless in your plans… she isn’t gone from you. Your sleep betrays you and you find yourself watching her. You watch her call out and search for you. You watch yourself, a dream, meet her and touch her and your mind burns with the hunger for just the brush of her hand. You listen to her weep over choices she made that haunt her, and you’re unable to comfort her. You can feel her terror as nightmares assail her, and if you weren’t a wolf in this form, you’d scream. You feel mad when you wake, tortured and raw and you’d run to her… but then you redouble your abstinence. Like opening a vein, you let the urge to drop everything and go find your Dalish heart and put her in your ribs where she belongs and never let her out. The truest horror of it all is she knows you’re there in all this. She can see you. She can see you refusing her, over and over and over. Ignoring her nightmares of being Blighted, ripped apart by Terrors and Shades, staring while she mourns the fallen who she sent to their deaths.

You’re a monster.

But then it’s all going to happen. Finally. And you don’t even feel energized by it. You simply think of her. You write almost automatically, as if your hand has a mind of its own. You tell her everything you wanted to scream in her dreams. Everything you wanted to in Crestwood.

Varric dies. No. No. You kill Varric.

You use Rook’s blood to make them see him. They loved him. He loved them. It’s… so cruel.

You’re a monster.

You repeat that to yourself on the steps in Minrathous. You’re barely able to keep your feet, your ribs feel pulped from the dragon’s teeth. Your skin feels hot and wet under your armor. You’re bleeding, so much so that you can taste it in your breath. The Blight burns on your lips. Your eye is blurred over with blood salt and tears.

And out of the night a voice speaks up to you that steals every single ounce of focus from your exhausted mind. You stare at her. She’s coming closer. “I forgive you!” she cries, her face pleading that you listen. She’s unarmed. She knows you killed Varric and she knows you could kill her. She knows you might. You can see it in the way she moves, the way her hands open at her sides as she moves closer.

Felassan’s face swims in your mind.

Please don’t you want to sob. Don’t make me hurt you. I’m a monster; I told you I didn’t want you to see me like this. So you try to explain again. To find some purchase on your own logic as to why this is still something you should do. Something she should allow. You look away, and you almost sigh in relief. She’s too bright; your eyes aren’t worthy of the sight of her anyway. You’ve hurt that woman so many times. And she’s still speaking of forgiveness?! FOR YOU?!

Morrigan?

Mythal.

You almost fall to your knees in front of her spirit. You can’t tell what the feeling is. Despair? Fear? Worship? Maybe all of them. But she tells you your sins are hers too. She took you from your home, twisted you… broke you. And you feel something slide off of you that somehow doesn’t make you stand straighter. You’re sick again. You’re collapsing. You’re a ruined wall, the last piece of a derelict castle on a crumbling mountain, and you’re giving way.

“Banal nadas. Ar lath ma, Vhenan.”

Mythal said that she broke you. Your being admits it. You weep, bowed, humbled… but free. You didn’t know you were shackled. But now that the chains are off, you feel it now. The chafed wounds where they’ve been locked for centuries. The sudden lack of weight that leaves you trembling and weak in its absence. You don’t remember them not being there.

But you do remember when you were able to ignore them. You remember how the Dalish woman refused to allow bigotry and hatred stop her from saving the world. You remember how she ran herself ragged for people who didn’t even care if she lived. You remember how she called them innocent.

You decide, or you are finally able to decide, that you want and perhaps have always wanted, to be like her.

So you shed your blood, not that you aren’t bleeding enough already, to ensure you’re bound to the Veil. Your life is its life.

“I will go and seek atonement.” You look into her eyes, as long as you can stand it. You hope she’ll be proud of you for finally being the hero she believed you could be. She looks back… so very beautiful. But no. No you’re not allowed to even think about that marvelous, bright creature like that.

“But you do not have to go alone.”

The touch of her hands makes you want to collapse. One of metal and wood, one of flesh and bone. She gives them both to you. Dumbly, you look at them. You’re touching her. This divine, unearthly thing is smiling at you, speaking to you. Holding your bloody, murderous, betrayer’s hands in hers. Your’s tremble and bleed. Her’s do not.

But what did she say? You don’t have to- No. No, Vhenan. Into that place? Into that prison? To war with madness and agony for eternity? No. You can’t…

“Ar ghilas vir banal.” You feel your heart crack and shatter as you say it. You’ll have to walk away from her again. You’ll have to leave her again. You’ll have to be alone, sundered from even her dreams… it’s what you deserve. And she deserves to be free of you. Finally.

But she just… keeps smiling. Her grip on your hands tightens. With a little shake of her head and a fondness on her face that you can’t begin to even fathom, she sings to you.

“Tel banal ar ama. Vir shiral la ma sa. Bellanaris.”

She comes nearer. Nearer. You wonder what she’s doing and then you realize like a slap to the face that you’re being offered a kiss.

A kiss.

You don’t think. You don’t even try. Your body screams as you bend spine and ribs and shoulder down to her. You’re filthy and bloody. She’s pristine. Gorgeous. She’s everything you aren’t.

She pauses. It’s a breath’s pause, eyes searching yours. And somehow, you know what the question in her’s means. “Do you want this?”

It’s almost hilarious.

You don’t hesitate. For the first time, you don’t. You close your eyes and let the moment wash over you. Perhaps she’ll change her mind in a little while. But for this one slice of time… you’re going to let this one thing be entirely good.

Her lips are everything your longing has has been good enough to remind you. Soft. Gentle. But also this is… so unlike anything you’ve experienced, even with her. It’s not like even the first kiss in the Fade. It’s so terribly tender that your throat tightens and your eyes burn. She’s so very gentle with you.

So you’re gentle back. You turn the Blight on your lips as far from hers as you can. You don’t yank her against you and bury yourself in her as you’d like to. You rub your thumbs over her knuckles. You caress her cheek with your nose. And when she withdraws with an even more angelic smile on her face than before…

You have to smile too. It’s as if her lips have infected your own.

Rook and Morrigan smile at the two of you. You can almost feel it, like the glow of flame. Warmth. You’ve been so cold for so long. You thank Rook. They smile at you, eyes tender. And your heart smiles at them too as you step toward the Veil. Knowing. Grateful.

Standing alone for a moment feels like standing on the edge of a cliff. You almost lurch forward, considering the decision to leave her. To make her stay. But… no. You lack the strength to rip yourself away from her again. It would be cruel to reject her promise but… if it spared her…

Her hand weighs down on your shoulder. I’m here. Let’s go. Vhenan. You can feel the words, as if touch is enough for her to speak to you. Perhaps after sharing dreams for so long, it’s true. You dare not look at her. You might shove her away.

And then you’re passing into the Fade. And you’re not alone. And you feel her hope burst into a flame of unrepentant, inextinguishable joy. Joy because of you. Joy because you never have to be parted again. Joy that you finally, finally chose her after having chosen you so many times.

You could weep and you do, with how you know you’ve made her feel. But when your feet are upon solid ground again and she is surging toward you with a quiet cry of Vhenan… you catch her. You crush her to you and she laughs, sounding like the younger woman you abandoned, and she kisses you and you kiss her because you can’t bear to do anything else. And there’s no pulling away. Even as your knees give out and your body begins to betray the amount of damage you’ve suffered, you hold each other. Her tears mix with your own and your blood and she’s all you know and all you care about. She’s real and she’s here and she is with you.

Your mind stumbles over a cluster of words that reorganize into something coherent and you almost feel disgusted at them. But then… it’s true. You know it is. If it meant her, if it meant being cradled to her even in a prison made of regret and failure and pain… safe and loved and whole, in a terrible place unmade simply because of the person hiding you in the hollow of her body… It was all worth it.

[pedgito]

well, january is finally over. i feel like this month has dragged, but the surplus of fics have kept me going. this one includes a few wildcards (and a lot of smut) that i'm blaming on friends. as always, i can't wait to see what everyone is cooking up as the year progresses!

this key will help you figure out which fics are more your vibe, or if you’re just curious of the contents before you dive in:

smut = 🌶️, fluff = ☁️ angst = ☄️

total fics listed below: 24

✎ — 𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑

↝ the warden by @arcanefox207 — 🌶️ (DDDNE, dubcon)

Your hike into the woods doesn’t go as planned when a depraved Game Warden catches you breaking the rules.

↝ hotline to heaven by @chaotic-mystery — 🌶️

An inquisitive man gets more than what he's used to when he pushes the wrong number on a phone sex hotline.

↝ me and the devil by @gracieheartspedro — 🌶️, ☄️ (dubcon)

Joel seeks out revenge on the man who stole from him. He finds you in the process. 

↝ cake by @/wannab-urs — ☄️

You make a cake for Joel on his birthday, but it doesn’t go well. 

↝ father figure by @gutsby — 🌶️

Parents’ Weekend looks a little different this year with Joel showing up in the place of your father.

✎ — 𝐉𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐀

↝ strangers by @joelmillerisapunk — 🌶️

You meet a sexy stripper at your bestie's bachelorette party and he tries his absolute hardest to get your number

↝ read it again by @almostfoxglove — ☁️

Your best-selling novel is being turned into a Hollywood blockbuster. Ordered to tweak some awkward lines with the lead actor, you've got no clue that the Javier Peña is a massive fan of the source material. He has no idea that the script doctor Stechner just sent to babysit him is the author of his favorite book.

✎ — 𝐓𝐈𝐌 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐃

↝ the impaler by @kiwisbell — 🌶️

Chief Detective Tim Rockford makes a breakthrough in New York City’s latest serial killer case. The mysterious culprit is in the mood to share more than information.

↝ cuffed to the grind by @whocaresstillthelouvre — 🌶️

You're working late 'cause you're a detective. Oh Tim looks so good handcuffed to a chair.

✎ — 𝐃𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐉𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍

↝ bedroom hymns by @saradika — 🌶️

mand'alor!sub!din x wife!dom!reader

↝ pas de deux (series) by @burntheedges — ☄️, ☁️, 🌶️ (finished)

When Din Djarin – principal dancer at Concordia Ballet Company and generational talent in the classical style – suddenly left CBC and joined the Nevarro Ballet Theater mid-season, it shocked the ballet world. You never would have guessed that he would change your life, too.

↝ the apostate (series) by @murder-wife

Din Djarin is the most beautiful Angel in existence. The only thing that matches his beauty is his pride. He just can't help but meddle in the affairs of the Mortals. This time, he's gone too far and must be taught a lesson.

↝ beg by @amanitacowboy — 🌶️

Din tortures and edges you with a remote control vibrator.

↝ your king & lionheart (+ marcus acacius) by @kedsandtubesocks

Trouble grows & you’re in need of a personal guard, thankfully Rome’s grand general seems to be perfect - not just for you (but maybe for your husband as well)

✎ — 𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐎

↝ never have i ever by @wannab-urs — 🌶️

You and Dieter play never have I ever and it gets spicy.

↝ chaos angel by @always-andromeda — 🌶️, ☄️

It's Emmy night. And your infamous ex-boyfriend is stirring up all kinds of trouble for you.

✎ — 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐒

↝ she keeps me up by @iamasaddie — 🌶️

After having sex with you, Lucien is losing his mind over it, unable to let you go from his m

✎ — 𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊

↝ the man whose hands are stained by @jolapeno — 🌶️

This week, a man (single) recounts an intimate encounter with his neighbour—a woman who’s lingered in his thoughts far longer than he cares to admit.

↝ pretty in pink by @/gracieheartspedro — 🌶️

You don't stay awake for Dave's arrival. He finds you in bed in a compromising position.

↝ yes, ma'am by @sizzlingcloudmentality — 🌶️

Life goes sideways and Dave is close to snapping. He needs professional help aka let himself be dominated and be at the receiving end for once. Good thing he has your number.

↝ ice cold by @punkshort — 🌶️, ☄️

Dave ghosts you, so you get even by dating someone else in the office. That doesn't sit well with Dave.

✎ — 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄

↝ just once by @eupheme — 🌶️

You know you shouldn’t look for the handsome stranger that shows up, night after night. Should lock your window, forget you saw him. That’s the smart thing to do, after all. But you think you might like that he needs you. That you can’t stop thinking about him. That you can’t stop wanting more.

✎ — 𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍

↝ cotton mouth by @/gracieheartspedro — 🌶️, ☁️

You need a new dealer and you know a guy through the unfortunate grapevine you used to be wrapped up in. But I mean... the banter is great, and you cannot help but fall for him. But don't fret, he feels the same way.

↝ my, my those eyes like fire by @the-unforgivenn — 🌶️

You’ve heard of the classic Same Bed Trope? Well, what would you call it when all you expect to do is fall asleep in luxury after a missed flight, only to find the room already occupied? Same Hotel Room Trope?

likes, reblogs, and comments keep the motivation alive, so if you’re taking a look at these for the first time, please leave a kind word for these writers or just reblog, even. support your writers <3

[postcardsfromheapside]

I'm back in the fucking building again.

I love this lying, tits-out, 10ft-of-chutzpah-stuffed-in-a-4ft-frame, not-so-secret softie so much it hurts my teeth, and I want in the middle of whatever he and Cass have going on.

top tier relationship: he can't stop antagonizing her or keep her name out of his mouth, and she can't fucking stand him/refuses to get rid of him.

Oh look at this very humble, very demure totally normal elven apostate. Egg ass bitch.

[voodoobuddha]

I remember back in the day, Bioware really leaning into the whole 'Zaphod's just zis guy, you know?' shtick when they were introducing Solas (oh, he's just a fourty-something year old apostate who lived in the wilds and studied the fade. Nothing interesting here. No sir.). And now I'm looking at all the newest companions suspiciously thinking about who they are talking about the least.

[ryuto12-gaming]

Love Carver’s Templar path because is it bad for him? Yes, Grey Warden would be much better for the boy looking for a purpose of his own.

But the vibes? The story implications? When Meredith finds Hawke end of act 2 she’s all too happy to say that the young Hawke hadn’t mentioned his sibling was an apostate.

Immediate reaction to that is to think, ‘oh no, Carver’s in trouble now’. But he’s not. Meredith understands. If you’ve never done a Templar siding run you won’t know it, but Meredith had a older sister, an apostate her family harbored and did their everything to keep her safe. It doesn’t end well though, her sister becomes an abomination and kills their family and another 70 people.

Carver should, at the very least, be realistically thrown from the order because of his harboring of an apostate. But he isn’t. I don’t even think he has lines about any disciplinary action. Meredith understands very well that the love you hold for a sibling can pass the duty you must uphold to the Chantry.

Meredith is one of the few templars in the series who has an actually well written reason for why she does what she does. Most the Templar characters are written with blind hatred of mages, Meredith is written with a deep and genuine fear of magic that throughout the three acts is only given more and more reasons to exist as more blood mages appear in Kirkwall and even an apostate can become the cities hero. The hero, who keeps an abomination and blood mage for companions as well.

Meredith is afraid of magic and does what she does out of pity and sympathy for mages. Her sister should not have to die, but she was cursed with a power that cannot be controlled. Mages, no matter how kind or soft or caring and gentle, all can be swayed by a demon and become abominations. All are capable of blood magic. It takes a warrior to wield a sword that can kill, it takes a rogue to know a bow, all it takes for a mage is a thought. You must unsheathe a blade, you must steady the aim of a bow, magic is a thought and wave of the hand.

And untrained mages are the most likely to fall victim to this. Her sister had no training at all, she had only her own gifts and the minimal practice she could engage in. Meredith believes the Circle is best for everyone. It helps mages control their abilities, it keeps everyone else safe.

Knight commander Meredith has a very interesting way of thinking compared to many other Templars in the series, as she does not hate mages at all. She is a woman terrified of a world in which mages are able to run free. She is terrified of more families dying, or more innocent people being killed. But most of all she fears for the people who become the sibling that survives. Watching your sibling, someone you play with and argue with and love and hate turn into a monster is a terrifying thing. And it was terrifying for her sister, a kind woman who had down nothing wrong.

Meredith becomes a Templar to keep mages safe, in a way. Magic is a curse to her, and if she can keep mages in the circle where they can properly learn and grow they can be safe. Her sister would have been safe.

​She’s so competent as a Templar because she doesn’t hate mages she’s so good at it because her purpose is born out of a balance of love for her sister and the fear of what she became.

Knight commander Meredith bro

[ceareon]

"Salvation"

Yan! Angel x Apostate! GN! Reader

You find yourself surviving the end of the world. Yet now you're stuck with the angelic creature that tore your world apart. content warning: end of the world, gore, male yandere, religious themes, obsessive behavior. ALSO NOT PROOF READ

Part 2: "Repentance"

Artwork: "Death on a Pale Horse, ver. 1" By Benjamin West

The air was still, barely anything made noise. The soft cackles of the burning buildings in front of you slowly stifled into silence, leaving you alone with your thoughts as well as the smell of burning weed and flesh. Oh that burning smell of flesh reeked. Its been engraved in your mind since the start of all of this.

—

Your mother had gone missing. As well as thousands of humans on the same day without a trace. This of course brought mass destruction to the cities, humans suddenly disappearing without a trace was unheard of. Especially in broad daylight with witnesses. Despite your best efforts. In mud, you kneeled at sunset on the day of your birthday, dread filling you from the fact you couldn't find where your mother had gone to. You hadn't even been able to blow out your candle, now your dearest mother was gone, almost like she ceased to exist.

It was the day after your birthday when the first seal was broken, the white horse with its horseman grasping a bow, galloped forward in a quest to conquer. You couldn't forget that day, where the crown the horseman bared on it's head was soaked soaked in blood. In front of your eyes, your brother was taken from you.

Not long after you ran, tears pouring from your eyes as you feel your breath start to become uneven. You clutched your ears tightly, not listening when you hear your father calling out to you. Your heart was erratically beating. What the hell had just happened?

Hours go by, hiding in the small meadow near your home. Barely any people there yet you could still see the destruction being caused on the cities just far from where you sat. In your hand was your phone tightly clutched in your hand, you could see the countless posts on people lasts goodbyes, last smiles, last sorry's, last moments. Tears drip down, once you see the last post your father had posted. You were tagged in it.

"I love you @/darling"

posted on XX/XX/XXXX, a few minutes ago

You couldn't control the tears from pouring down, tears staining the screen of your phone before you threw it on the ground from sheer anger and disdain for yourself. How could you abandon your last family member? Dread started to fill you. You couldn't even breathe anymore.

—

You collapsed on the ground, choking blood as you barely had a will to live. Yet despite everything, you were never killed. You couldn't even take your own life despite having tried it so many times. This end of times had lasted for at least 7 days. Yet you felt as though you've been surviving for a decade.

"Human."

The air had suddenly gone cold. No longer did you feel that comfort of knowing your end was near. No. All you felt was dread. Like every little moment you had made to soothe yourself for your end was going to be ripped out of your stomach. You felt like you were about to vomit. You couldn't even bring yourself to look at the holy creature that burned it's thousands of eyes into you.

"Fear not... I'm here to bring you your salvation..."

Beside you it kneels down, gently, it wraps an arm around your waist, trying to make you sit up, yet you don't comply, causing it to huff in annoyance.

"Must you really be so stubborn?"

It forcefully grabs into your hair, pulling down to make you look up at it, yet your eyes only haze once you see the blinding light of it's halo. Fear stricken you as you see the adoring affection it shows through it's in humans face. You absolutely detest it.

"Oh... You are more enchanting than I would have thought."

Burning anger and sorrow reeks through your skin, yet you were too weak, too tired to show it. All you could do was spill the tears you've forced down for so long. It's inhuman face contorts, you could see it's makeshift eyebrows furrowing, while the thousands of eyes that were on it's skin squints, almost in a confused manner. Yet in all honesty you didn't know what emotion it was actually showing.

"Oh, human... My human. You must be so confused. I'm here to take you where you belong. To the kingdom above."

It's disgustingly human lips turn upward into an odd smile. Causing you to recoil back from uncanny disgust. No where in your pathetic life were you about to trust an Angel. Not after the calamities they've brought to the earth in the name of salvation. Just thinking about it made you heart clench as you were reminded by what you've witnessed for the past 168 hours. No amount of holy water will make you forget what these vile creatures had done to the planet you called home.

"Human."

The Angelic creature immediately apprehends you to the ground using it's four hands. You couldn't even squirm under it's grip. It wouldn't let you go. Not after having you under it's grasps now.

"I had never given you the option to say no."

[cer-rata]

Vandal Savage Makes an "Uh-oh"

Vandal: …You know, allowing you to speak before we torture you is a courtesy, one that I have no problem rescinding. 

Damian, sitting in a cell, thinking very hard: …Damn, Savage, I don’t know if I can save you from this one. This may very well be the end of your immortality.

Vandal: What are you talking about? You think I fear your mother? Your father? Even if he wasn’t a gnat in my grand design, he would never be willing to do what needs to be--

Damian: Yeah no, who even IS afraid of Batman at this point? And you know, I’ll give it to you, you’re a big fish.

Damian: ...Which is actually the problem here, because that means they’re all going to feel the need to come at the same time.

Vandal: The Justice League? I have enough fail-safes--

Damian: Nooo no no, they’ll be here before the League would ever, and I’m certain you didn’t prepare for most of them, half haven’t even gone public yet.

Vandal: ...You’re wasting my time, I see that I have to--

Damian: Then let me just break it down real fast, because you need to know this.

Damian: Me? Not going to kill you, I don’t do that anymore.

Damian: Superman? He--no, not that one, the one that should be at the club--I can almost feel his anger from here. It’s flattering, really...so he’ll want to, but won’t.

Damian: Nobody? Will want to, but won’t…unless you do something really stupid, but I don’t think you’re the type.

Damian: Abuse? Would never, but will want to break every bone in your body. He will succeed. 

Damian: Robin? Free space, the 'Good Egg,' she’ll just want to take you to jail. 

Damian: …But that’s when the problems start.

Vandal: …What problems?

Damian: If Beacon decides she wants to kill you she’ll do it in a way we can’t prevent or prove. It’ll be a stroke or a brain hemorrhage, maybe even literal ego death--

Damian: And let’s face it, you’re old as shit and everyone hates you, so do you really think they’ll  bother to investigate any of that? 

Damian: Apostate won’t kill you, but only because he will have something much nastier in mind. Truly a fate worse than death, disturbing as hell, kid has issues. If you have a choice, I recommend picking the ‘ego death’ instead.

Damian: Star Sapphire...well you broke my arm so he's definitely going to try to kill you, your best bet is that ‘Bi-Panic Superman’ stops him in time.

Vandal, flinching at a distant explosion: What the--

Damian: Shit! You distracted me, I didn’t come up with a way out for you.

Damian:

Damian: Oh no!

Damian:

Damian: Anyway, if 'Flashlight' makes a mess, he’s filling out the report, I’m not covering for him again, he knows how much it upsets me when he loses his temper and disintegrates people.

Vandal, angrily pressing buttons on his device: Why aren’t my men responding--

Damian, wincing at another, closer explosion: …Heeey, can you do me a favor and just...stand a little farther away, so I’m out of the splash zone?

Vandal: What!?

Damian, aggressively gesturing to his fit with his good arm: Look at me! When you start wearing white, it is very important to keep blood from getting all over--