#satinalia au

[theluckywizard]

WIP Whenever!

Thank you for the tag @greypetrel! Here's another bit of my matchmaking Satinalia distraction fic which I have now named (woo!) Kiss me Moonstruck. Rose Trevelyan has sneaked out of her guest quarters at the Hawke estate and is heading with Hawke to the Hanged Man in Lowtown and this relatively sheltered noblewoman is just 👀👀👀 over everything. ****

Rose isn’t exactly sure what she should have expected. A bid for freedom is about as far as she got with her calculus. It was senseless, she had to admit, having been admonished by Garrett Hawke’s pitying snicker when she announced she was going to wander around Kirkwall at night.

But following alongside him, she feels safe enough to gawk at everything with wild curiosity. Unlike the stillness of Hightown, Lowtown teems with activity after dark. She tries to tease the early Satinalia skullduggery from the usual bustle, but it’s impossible. Aromas of roasted nuts and sizzling sausages drift through the falling snow from purveyors jammed up along row homes carved from tuff.  Obvious prostitutes with theatrically painted faces have staked out spots along the small market square with closed up stalls, flaunting their wares with bumps of their hips and perfectly timed lifts of their skirts. They holler their come ons at Rose, offering to make her sing louder than Serah Hawke ever could. Their familiarity with him is both jarring and somehow completely unsurprising. Hawke waves their taunts off.

“My uncle’s house is just around the corner,” he notes. “I got to know my neighbors quite well.”

“There’s a joke there that I’ll keep to myself,” she says wryly. Garrett shakes his head with a smile.

“They don’t like me,” he explains. “I had a few dust ups with their keepers that made things more difficult for them. I was— trying to help— and somehow I made things worse.”

“Trying to be their white knight or something?”

“Or something.”

An urchin child runs parallel to them with an armful of laurel and elfroot crowns for Satinalia, soliciting their attention with compliments and colorful descriptions of whatever they have on offer. She has to admire her tenacity, her expression animated behind streaks of dirt. So much life hidden under raggy, threadbare layers that must barely keep her warm. Hawke leans low to whisper in Rose’s ear.

“Watch your back and watch your purse,” he says softly. She peers over her shoulder to see them being tailed by a few other pint sized denizens waiting for their moment. The would-be offenders try to look casual, but Rose winks at them to warn them off. 

“I’ll have one for me and one for the lady,” says Hawke, magnanimous in his address, holding up a shiny stack of coppers. “And if you tell your friends behind us to piss off, I’ll take the lot.”

The girl’s sudden excitement pops out in a little hop and she slips her armful of crowns onto Hawke’s arm before turning to the bunch tailing them and unleashing a torrent of curses, scrappy and colorful as a quilt.

“Isn’t that a bit much?” Rose asks, eyeing his evergreen adorned forearm.

“They can’t go home until they sell it all. Besides,” he says, tossing and catching a crown of greenery. “I can hand them out at the tavern.” He pops a crown onto her snowflake dusted hair, so fully accepting of her transformation and presence on this illicit mission to make merry, to thumb her nose at her mother’s expectations and edicts that her answering look is rather slushy with appreciation. She smiles up at him, warmed by the compassion tucked inside his savvy though he turns sharply to shoo away the pickpockets that hover a little too closely with a pretend kick.

Tagging @crackinglamb, @delicatefade, @zenstrike, @rowanisawriter, @bluewren and ANYONE ELSE. I want to see your projects (DA or no!) 🥰

[knuttydraws]

Eyy, Satinalia exchange gifts reveal! (it happened on Wednesday but shhh I'm a busy woman) Part 1: Modern AU, lumberjack style Blackwall cuddles for Mersailia (@fanfictionamerica) ❤ Check the whole collection here!

[dragon--sage]

writing patterns

ty @cleric4vampire for tagging me in this!!! and i'm tagging @sillyliterature and @darethshirl (i'm so sorry i'd tag more of you but my brain is fried af. if you see this consider yourself tagged and i would love to see them if you decide to share!!)

rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10 posted fics and see if there's a pattern!

in order from newest to oldest! click the title for the link to each.

LINES

Radiant Hopeful (bg3, astarion x tav)

“Astarion, can I show you something?”

Nightswim (bg3, astarion x tav)

It was a quiet evening in camp, and Nyana was sitting a ways off from the fire, on a hollowed-out log, working on a few rather pathetic sketches of the local plant life.

Spark That Set the Pyre (bg3, astarion x tav, explicit)

Most nights, when Astarion fed off Nyana, she tried to keep her interest and involvement as prim and polite as possible.

The Chivalrous Charlatan (bg3, astarion x tav)

Astarion was going to kill the sorcerer.

Someone I Like Better (bg3, astarion x tav, explicit)

It was night and day, how completely things had changed between Astarion and Nyana, after Cazador had been finished—after the graveyard.

Sunstruck (bg3, astarion x tav)

“Pouting? Or plotting?”

Places of Oblivion (dragon age inquisition, unfinished solavellan modern au, explicit)

Ellana, usually, did not fuck with dating apps.

No Better Waste of Time (dragon age inquisition, unfinished solavellan fix-itish longfic, explicit)

In a darkened attic with a vaulted ceiling, many cobwebs, and one industrious family of rats (who liked to keep to themselves), Ellana Lavellan sat cross-legged in front of an inactive but intact eluvian, her reflection a glaring smudge in the warped surface of the silvery glass.

Her Eyes the Stars (dragon age inquisition, solavellan)

Her eyes — Void take him — he could easily spend a century trying to capture the way their startling amber color appeared in different lighting.

Etha, Ama (dragon age inquisiiton, solavellan, explicit)

It was Satinalia — Feastday.

and bonus even though it's not within the last 10 i have such a soft spot for this fic:

Cry Havoc! (dragon age inquisition, gen fic, background solavellan)

Marquise Briala and Empress Celene were clearly arguing, but Ellana Lavellan was going to interrupt them anyway.

PATTERNS

Um these are all products of my respective hyperfixations on solavellan and tavstarion, so there's that. I see a few long ass run ons, as I expected ahahhaa, but also short, clipped ones. Only a few are in between. Some of them drop you right into the action and others are more scene-setting. The em dash (l m a o). Other than that I think I've been looking at this too long to see anything except my own questionable grammatical choices 😂

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

my penchant for info dumping scene-setting run ons makes this extremely difficult but in case anyone else wants to try:

Vixstarria's additional rule: see if you can arrange the lines into a semi-coherent crackfic.

[nirikeehan]

Happy Friday Niri! For DADWC, how about #31 from Artifacts of Thedas, for Cullen and Dorian (heh heh): A Satinalia mask

HI DEMA thank you!! This deliciously fit right into my ongoing masquerade side quest fic set in Pravinquisition AU, previous installation here

Also I was an absolute maniac and managed (I hope) to shove five Cullen & Dorian prompts into one scene, so thank you @zenstrike, @rosella-writes, @kiastirling, and @liza011 for these additional prompts:

overdramatic arguments about non-important subjects

All I Do is Wear Cool Outfits, Tell Jokes and Hide My Depression

doing things in sync

'Rule one: Don’t get caught.'

Madness. But perfect for them and I think I got them all

For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 1350

---

Cullen stood sentry in the corner of a marble-pillared room, watching the revelry with distaste. A pair of inebriated Orlesians had taken it upon themselves to climb upon a makeshift stage and butcher the Fereldan tavern song Andraste’s Mabari. He was nominally glad the panther-shaped mask he wore hid his grimace, though the rest of him wanted to wrench the damn thing off his face. It made his forehead itch something awful. 

He was grateful to see Dorian stroll into the room and make eye contact. The Tevinter mage looked far more comfortable at this soiree than Cullen knew he would be in a million years. Dorian cut a sharp figure in blues and greens. He wore a black half-mask; it was adorned with feathers and sparkled even in the dim light.

“I hope you’re not grinding your teeth too hard in there, Commander,” Dorian said jovially, sidling up with a goblet of wine in one hand. “You’re like to give yourself a headache.”

Cullen opened his mouth to protest, only to realize how correct the mage was. He worked his jaw, trying to loosen it up. “I didn’t think I’d have to suffer attacks on my homeland when I agreed to come here, that’s all.”

Dorian tilted his head, caught wind of the lyrics, and took a stiff sip of his drink. “I see your point. Perhaps we ought to go somewhere a touch, ah, quieter?”

“Please.” 

They ducked down a hallway that spilled out onto a small courtyard. The chill night was a welcome respite from the stuffiness of the Comte de Valette’s estate. The place seemed deserted, so Cullen removed the mask to the feel the relief of open air on his face. Any moment an angry Orlesian noble would probably materialize and command he put it back on — the allure of secrecy and all that — but for the moment he could think unburdened. 

“Tut, tut, Commander,” Dorian chided, smirking at his clear hatred of the mask and all it signified, “do you also remove your helm mid-battle?” 

“This farce of a party is hardly the battlefield,” Cullen grumbled. “And perhaps if I hadn’t let Fidencio design my entire outfit I’d feel less like a made-up doll.” The whole ensemble had been the bard’s idea. Cullen stood all in black, with a paisley patterned in velvet on his jerkin, gold trim on the sleeves, and a black overcoat. He already felt like a mummer’s idea of a pirate, but then Fidencio had insisted upon the damn mask to complete the look. Because a lion — Cullen’s suggestion — was the official sigil of Orlais and would send the wrong message. “Did the bard pick out your costume as well?” 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Commander, but I’d never need a theatre man to dress me properly.” Dorian smirked into his wine goblet. “I happen to dress this sharply on the regular, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Why, this was just my Satinalia mask from last year.” 

“I bet.” Cullen paid the boasting no mind. “Anything to report?”

“Sadly not. The Inquisitor and I spoke to all the premiere nobles of the Orlesian court — you think they’d want to hide their identities better, but I found them quite easy to identify. They had little and less to say. Nothing but praise for the Comte, but curiously no one can find the man.” 

“Strange, do you think?” Cullen asked. “That the Comte should be so aloof?” 

“Ah, who knows?” Dorian countered. “I’ve been to galas in Tevinter thrown while the host wasn’t even in the country. He’d do it just to remind everyone he still had more money than the Maker.” 

“And Lady Thalia?” Cullen asked, scanning the windows facing the courtyard. In the orange glow of the rooms, the revelers cut ghastly, demon-like shadows. Or maybe that was just how it seemed. The mind could play tricks, and Cullen hadn’t wanted Thalia to accept the Comte’s invitation even before he learned that de Valette was rumored to be some dark mage. 

“She was with Fidencio, last I checked. In that room with the enchanted butterflies.” 

“Maybe I should check on her. No offense to Fidencio, but I’ve seen him in the sparring ring. He’s more of a lover than a fighter.” 

Dorian snorted. “That he is, for certain.” 

Cullen waited for a snide remark about Fidencio’s swordplay in alternative arenas, but Dorian merely smirked. It seemed he was too polite to grasp for the low-hanging fruit. That was fine with Cullen, who had uncovered a strange sense of foreboding he couldn’t shake. He replaced the asinine mask on his face and headed back inside with Dorian matching his stride.

Dorian led the way to the butterfly room, which was full of the flitting insect lanterns and simpering party guests, but no Inquisitor or the headwear-loving bard. Cullen’s bad feeling worsened. 

“Well, they were just here,” Dorian added unhelpfully. 

Cullen walked brusquely from room to room, checking with his stationed soldiers along the way, but none had seen the Lady Thalia. Even Blackwall confessed they’d only crossed paths before she’d met up with Fidencio. 

Dorian kept pace, cracking bad jokes along the way, until Cullen finally snapped, “Are you incapable of taking anything seriously?” 

Dorian sobered. “Ah, yes, the humor is just my dominant coping mechanism, I’m afraid. I’m actually a bit nervous myself.” 

Cullen let out a slow breath. “Any idea where they could have gone?” 

“No, but I think we must employ process of elimination here, Commander.” He leaned against the wall in a small, winding corridor and crossed his arms. “Thus far the masquerade has been confined to the ground floor of the chateau and surrounding environs. As Inquisition soldiers have been stationed in both places, I think it’s safe to assume they’re not there.” 

“So that leaves, what, upstairs? In the guest chambers? ” Cullen did not like to think about what might be transpiring up there. One heard tell of what transpired at certain Orlesian parties. “I hope Fidencio would not be fool enough to let Thalia near any sort of—” Could he even say it?

“I think it’s unlikely Fidencio would have led her to an orgy,” Dorian said blithely. “Unless she asked to go— which is also unlikely,” he added before Cullen’s pulse could spike too much. “Goodness, you have met the girl, haven’t you? She can barely handle one man, let alone a whole gaggle.” 

Cullen chose not to dignify any of that with a response. “So then, where else?” 

A silent beat passed between the two men, and they spoke in unison: “The cellar.” 

“There must be one,” Dorian said. “This is a castle. What’s a castle without a wine cellar?” 

“And a dungeon,” Cullen said darkly. What if the Comte de Valette had made an appearance after all, and now Thalia was his captive? 

“Commander, your imagination is at times alarming,” Dorian said lightly. 

“I’m in charge of an army. I’m paid to think about the worst case scenario.”

“Be that as it may.” Dorian paced back and forth in the corridor, and raised a finger in the air. “I think I might know a way in.” 

“Oh?” Cullen asked. 

“A little staircase I came across when I took a wrong turn earlier in the evening. A pageboy assured me it was just the servant stairwell and steered me back to the party.” 

Cullen drew the mask from his face, wiping the perspiration from his brow. “Do you think you can find it again?”

Dorian stroked the end of his mustache. “I’m fairly certain, yes.” 

“Though I suppose we’ll have to think of a fine excuse, to allow ourselves entry,” Cullen mused. “Unless we want the entire chateau alerted to our movements.” 

“Spoken like someone who never snuck around much in his youth.” Dorian flashed him a mischievous grin.

Cullen sighed. “What do you want me to say? The Templar barracks were well-monitored.” 

“Oh, don’t misunderstand me; that was not meant to be a slight. I only mean, Commander, you’ve not yet learned rule number one in subterfuge: don’t get caught.”

[demarogue]

Fandom New Years Resolutions for 2023

I don’t want to do any of the Year In Review things because...well, it was a really intense, difficult year and I didn’t get as much done as I would have liked. However! I thought it might be fun to lay out my plans for 2023, keep them reasonable (keep them safe) and try to hype myself up to finish. 

Without further ado, my list that is likely to shift and change:

DRAGON AGE

Fics

Finish Letters to the Dead

Continue You’re Bad but You’re Mine (maybe even finish!? Who knows!)

Finish and post Something Unholy, a Morgon one-shot that was supposed to be for Satinalia but will now be for a random Andrastian holiday because I vastly overestimated the length of December

Solavellan stuff (DA4 has me in a deathgrip)

Some one-shots: Blackwall + Josephine, Comedy of Errors stuff, 

Art

Banners/cover pages for all my fics

Catch up on all commissions/gifts

Finally color my lovely Niva linearts from @dreadfutures

Morgon Tarot card (three guesses which one lol)

Morgon, Niva and Alethea portraits for pfps

ACOTAR

Fics

Finish All of Me Belongs to You (ASAP/early Jan)

Finish A Lily on Thy Brow

Nyx craziness

Past Loves, Lives collection (Young Bats, Amren being Made, Mor’s first time falling for a woman, I’m working on more ideas and for sure would take prompts, hit up my asks!)

A one-shot per month. Probably mostly Elriel but I’m planning to branch out, too

Art

Finish Elriel AU piece for @azrielslight (ASAP/early Jan)

Finish Elriel in the garden piece

Banners/cover pages for all my fics

Feyre slaying the worm

Feyre and her monsters

Buzzcuts in the Illyrian camp/battlefield hairstyle incidents

Some smutty Elriel stuff

18th/19th-century style Portraits of the sisters

RINGS OF POWER/LOTR

Art (Only art because I am not enough of a Tolkein scholar to dare to write stuff)

ALL THE WOMEN. Binders full of em!

also Aragorn and Halbrand. Maybe even together ;)

Lastly, I just want to read more fic. My TBR is so long – if you’re a longfic writer and I started reading and then disappeared into the hills, please know I didn’t lose interest!! I just had A Year, is all. I am excited to return to reading regularly and letting you all know how much I adore you and how unspeakably talented I think you are.

And just for funsies, with NO pressure to join in, I’d love to hear anyone’s fandom resolutions! I’m not going to tag specific folks because I don’t want to be pushy OR leave anyone out so suffice to say, if you can see this I am tagging you in spirit.

[greypetrel]

how about some silly little blorbo questions!

What kind of holidays do your baes like best? Could be in-game canon or our holidays irl (like Christmas, April Fool's, etc).

I'm especially interested in Aisling💖, but I'd love to know more about any/all of them, so your choice!

Come come with all the questions! :D

Uhm.

Aisling would differ from canon to AUs.

In canon she has little love for the Chantry, and after Trespasser, celebrations even in elven style left a VERY sour mouth. She'll pick some celebrations from the Avvar, and found some solace. Her favourite festivities are Solstices. She'd love Summer Solstice best because of the fruit: first peaches, long day, there are puppies around, it's warm. She's a spring girl, but there it's her time to shine. She'll teach her child that on First-Day, the Dread Wolf brings gifts to good children (like Santa. Out of pettiness), and that will be a close second best. She doesn't like winter and hates the cold, but it's usually the time Dorian can manage to escape and come visit, so everyone gathers, Niamh gets overtly excited, it's a fun time.

In the DadWolf AU (tag in link, and infos in the Masterpost) she'd LOVE Halloween. Halloween will be a huge event in the house (art on the link): namely, Varric and Solas will go all the way to invent group costumes, Varric will spend way too much money for them, they'll involve friends. Halloween is a very serious event for them, and organisation usually starts as August comes in. She, Dorian and Cullen never got rid of being called The Three Musketeers from that one time, when they were children, when Solas and Varric managed to lure him in the group costume (Solas was Richelieu, Varric the Queen). And they went around all together all the time, so. Autumn is not her favourite season, but she'll favour Halloween for the atmosphere and the memories. and organising costumes all together.

Other blorbos under the cut!

Raina: Satinalia. Any chance of doing ruckus and shenanigans around town and she'll jump right in. Garrett: All Soul's Day. Pumpkins are in season, it's autumn, the nature is coloured prettily. The Veil is thin and you can meet the most interesting spirits. Radha: First Day with all the family gathered. Alyra: Satinalia too. Again, under the cold façade she's silly, and Satinalia is the time she can dress up and go and do some ruckus without pretending to be the Arlessa/Warden-Commander, get in a tavern and drink and sing come on Nathaniel get that stick out of your ass and get dressed. Max: Her parents were fishermen, and she grew up mostly with her maternal grandma, from Livorno. She loves Ferragosto the best! In Italy, there are fireworks (less than on New Year's Eve, generally the cities organize shows), you gather with friends and family for a pic nic or a barbecue. It's peak summer, so it was usually, for her, a picnic by the sea, lots of food and merriment, and watching the horse race in Siena on extranet.

[atthedas]

Mise à jour n°30

Ainsi tomba Thédas arrive sur Tumblr avec cette première mise à jour ! Lien vers le forum.

À Satinalia, on trouve du lin et du velours. Les robes se soulèvent au rythme des virevoltes, soient-elles houpelandes ou cottehardies, soient-elles légères ou lourdes. Au pied du plus grand des arbres d'une cité trop minérale, on choisit son animal totem pour mieux se confronter dans les rires et la joie. Au pied du plus imposant des trônes de cette fière nation, les mains se soulèvent et se tordent au rythme de la musique avec l'injonction de ne pas se toucher. Pourtant, que la caresse du lin est douce et celle du velours, moelleuse... À Satinalia, on se pare avec des masques et du maquillage. Les identités se cachent et se devinent, avec une hypocrisie feinte ou avec une sincérité amusée : dans certains salons, on fixe ses propres règles du jeu et l'on oublie celle qui anime le peuple ; dans les rues, on se gausse des manières des nobles et l'on s'empare d'une fête à soi. À nous. Une fête qui ne meurt pas avec les cendres et le feu : alors les quolibets aristocrates ? Alors les railleries populaires ? Pourtant, les masques ont reçu un soin particulier et les maquillages, une attention profonde... À Satinalia, on trouve les murmures que l'on y cherche, et l'on saisit les promesses auxquelles l'on veut croire : mais de quel côté du sourire vous tiendrez-vous ?

Statistiques

Ainsi tomba Thédas compte actuellement 50 comptes pour 47 personnages validés ! Les Factions sont globalement toutes équilibrées, sauf la Garde des Ombres qui a un désavantage.

Animation en cours : L'évènement continue de faire danser nos membres ! Vous trouverez plus d'informations ici. Les personnages éphémères sont ouverts aux nouveaux.elles joueur.euse.s !

Prédéfini mis à l'honneur

Nom : Aurélien d'Autrerive. Âge : 44-45 ans. Genre : Masculin. Peuple : Humain. Nation d'origine : Orlaïs. Occupation : Ancien bérruier, mercenaire indépendant. Religion ou croyances : Chantrie andrastienne désavouée. État civil : Libre.

TW : Violences physiques, tueries. Avez-vous déjà entendu parler de la Ballade des chevaliers exilés, horrible chanson que ces bardes aiment tant déclamer ? Elle conte l'histoire de ce fils de pauvre famille noble, qui à force d'être rabaissé par ses frères et sœurs est pris d'un fervent désir de sauver Thédas et de protéger le Créateur en pillant et massacrant des paysans tévintides. Elle raconte comment il se fit plus grand en marchant sur la tête des esclaves, espérant atteindre leurs maîtres, oubliant combien leurs cous étaient fragiles. Elle décompte les exploits de ses frères d'armes qui se détournèrent de lui pour qu'il prenne la responsabilité et la culpabilité de ce qu'ils avaient tous accompli. Oh, je leur ferais bien bouffer leurs chapeaux à ces saltimbanques des porcheries pour mieux racler leurs gorges avec leurs plumes : car le chevalier n'a aujourd'hui plus d'ordre, plus de vœu, plus d'honneur, et il ne va que là où sa colère et son amertume le guident. Voir plus...

Scénario mise à l'honneur

Nom : Masha. Âge : Fin trentaine, début quarantaine. Genre : Féminin. Peuple : Humain. Nation d'origine : Tribus alamarries. Occupation : Garde du corps et agent de la maison Callaigh. Religion ou croyances : Libre. État civil : Libre.

Masha est une femme décrite comme très grande et à la carrure imposante. À cause de ses années de mercenariat et de ses origines alamarries, elle jouit d'une réputation de barbare sanguinaire même si elle s'est assagie avec le temps. Elle n'éprouve cependant aucun problème à lever la main sur plus faible qu'elle et ne s'embarrasse généralement pas de subtilités lorsqu'il s'agit de faire son travail. Elle a le sobriquet de « bouchère aux rats » depuis la guerre des rats et était parfois qualifiée de cruelle ou de sadique par ses propres ex-comparses Dragons de Rubis en raison de son manque évident d'empathie. Après avoir vu sa famille se faire massacrer par les orlésiens toute petite, Masha a un rapport à la violence assez particulier. En plus de servir de garde de corps à la famille Callaigh, il est probable qu'elle leur serve de femme de main et soit responsable de tout ce qui touche plus ou moins à la sécurité et au bien-être de la lignée. Elle est considérée comme un agent loyal de la famille et appréciée par cette dernière car jusqu'ici elle n'a jamais manqué à ses devoirs et nonobstant sa sombre réputation a toujours fait preuve d'un grand professionnalisme. Voir plus...

Organisation mise à l'honneur

Son nom n’est connu que des cercles les plus nobles du tout-Starkhaven - majesté de sang ou d’âme - : aristocrates, intellectuels, artistes… Le faste de son salon séduit les cœurs les plus esthètes, tandis que d’autres s’y pressent pour la discrétion éprouvée de l’enseigne. Car c’est bien là tout le charme de l’Acanthe : raffinement et confidences bien gardées. Née des cendres du Laurier Carmin, tristement chahuté suite à l’exécution de la Corneille, l’Acanthe est l’incarnation d’un espoir double : celui d’effacer les stigmates de la colère populaire et l’envie, brûlante, de s’arracher définitivement à la fange qui l’a vue naître. Un pari que Vera, sa propriétaire, entend bien remporter, à la force de ses ambitions et de son carnet d’adresse. Outre un cadre exquis qui ne manque pas de rappeler le bon goût des salons orlésiens, l’Acanthe propose un service - léger - de restauration et accueille entre ses murs des évènements culturels, tels que des représentations théâtrales, des déclamations poétiques ou la promotion d’artistes à la mode - peintres, musiciens, écrivains… Parallèlement à ces activités, on raconte que le salon ferait également office de maison de rendez-vous pour les hôtes en quête d’entrevues plus intimes. Une rumeur que bien peu d’oreilles sont parvenues à recueillir et qu’aucun habitué n’a jusqu’ici confirmé. Voir plus...

[agentkatie]

It’s that time of the year, folks -- Netflix Christmas movies have officially ruined my and @effelants’ brains, and we felt compelled to make our own this year! So buckle in for budding romances, mistaken identities, a distinct shortage of beds -- and, of course, and an egregious amount of holiday decorations...

Thanks to the wonderful @vjatoch for our magnificent art!

- - - - -

All Olivia Trevelyan wanted was a nice, quiet Satinalia, but chaos descends the moment the Inquisition sets foot in Denerim palace for their peace talks. Now she has to navigate a case of mistaken identities, the looming threat of assassination by the Crows, and, worst of all, a King whose smile makes her weak. With the future of the Inquisition at stake, can she figure out a way to save them, or will Shepard have to go ahead with the worst plan of all time?

A lighthearted Satinalia AU set just prior to Trespasser featuring an increasingly frantic Trevelyan, a marginally lovestruck King, and two absolutely hopeless Commanders.

- - - - -

Olivia Trevelyan had been to Denerim only once before. She and her family had spent one autumn there, as her parents had tried to orchestrate her eldest sister’s marriage to one of the Fereldan nobility; Olivia had been nine and had played with her doll of King Maric on a balcony which overlooked the palace. She’d imagined, back then, how the grand old building must have been equally beautiful inside, and she’d wished for nothing more than to explore it and learn its secrets. The following year her magic had manifested, and she’d resigned herself to never seeing a palace again.

Yet somehow, fifteen years later, here she was: not just an invited guest but an honoured guest. Even knowing the invitation was politically motivated, she remained as excited about it as she would have been as a child. She was delighted to find she’d been right about the palace’s inner beauty, but at this time of year it felt like she’d stepped into a dream. Lavishly decorated trees lined the halls and glittering stars hung from the ceiling, and holly and ivy entwined every free column and railing, radiant and breathtaking and more opulent than Olivia had ever imagined.

“I thought Ferelden was meant to be the less gaudy country on this continent.”

Shepard was apparently less impressed with the palace than Olivia, idly twiddling a bauble on the nearest tree. “I daresay it is for the Orlesian delegates,” Cullen grumbled, frowning at a particularly ornate garland.

“Oh, sure, blame the Orlesians. At least they own their tackiness.”

With a particularly exuberant flick the bauble Shepard had been toying with fell from the tree and shattered on the floor. Shepard grimaced before offering Josephine an apologetic smile.

“Remind me of why you wished to join us for this task, Shepard?” Josephine asked.

“Because I’m the only one willing to punch the King on the Inquisitor’s behalf.”

(Read More on AO3)

[laraslandlockedblues]

In honor of the holidays once more, thought I’d share this little A Christmas Carol twist in Modern Thedas. Happy Holidays!

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Rylen (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s), Rylen (Dragon Age)/Original Character(s) Characters: Original Female Character(s), Rylen (Dragon Age), Varric Tethras, Scout Jim, Josephine Montilyet, Leliana (Dragon Age), Dorian Pavus, Abigail Henderson Additional Tags: Explicit Language, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Holidays, Satinalia, Self-Aware Christmas Carol, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Crack, Fluff and Crack, Christmas Crack, THIS FIC IS PURE CRACK, Ghosts of Christmas, Ghosts of Satinalia technically, One Shot, happy holidays, The Author Regrets Nothing, Rated M for language Series: Part 15 of Just Say Lass Summary:

A mix-up in names leads to a strange night before Satinalia for Abigail - though that doesn't mean she can't have fun finding herself trapped in a classic holiday tale.

[darlingrutherford]

Happy Christmas, all!

I wanted to post a couple little Satinalia ficlets today for the holidays. Maker willing the second more spicy one will post this evening. In the meantime, here's a more fluff one that will eventually be posted with Once Upon a Time in Thedas, my Cinderella!AU 😊❤️

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Decorations littered the Denerim palace, ribbons of red and gold with tufts of holly strung from the rafters while ten times more candles than usual lit the halls. The palace celebration of Satinalia had gone off without a hitch, with the King and his bride-to-be hand in hand as they greeted guest after guest, each with decorative masks that favored the occasion. The celebrations in Ferelden may not have lasted the lengthy week or more it did in Antiva, however they still knew how to throw a party that accommodated all their guests who had arrived from various countries around Thedas. The event had begun early in the morning, from festivities in the city to dancing and merriment in the palace that had lasted long into the night.

“I don't think I'll ever get tired of how bright your smile gets when you're dancing,” Alistair said with a grin as he opened the door to his room. Lana laughed as he gave a low, exaggerated bow before following her into the room.

“I don't think I'll ever tire of dancing with you,” she said. Alistair undid the ribbon that held his golden mask to his face, tossing the thing on a table with a relieved sigh.

“I'm surprised you even got to dance with me. You were having so much fun in that dance circle, I thought they'd all steal you away before the night ended,” he teased. The light in the room was low, only a few candles aiding his eyes along with the warm glow of the burning hearth. He took her hand as she went to remove her mask which matched his, pulling her towards him as he snuck his arm around her waist and pulled her into a kiss. Lana hummed against his lips, unable to contain her smile. When he finally released her from his grasp, she bit at her lower lip, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet as she slipped the mask from her face.

“I got you something,” she said excitedly. “Sister Leliana told me that's what people do on Satinalia.”

Alistair watched in amusement as she ran over to a dresser and pulled a small box from one of its drawers.

“Have you been going through my drawers?” Alistair asked cheekily.

“Only the one.” She flushed, trying her best to not run back to him. She held out the small box to him, delicately wrapped in brown paper and tied together with a dainty red bow, about the size of her palm. “I figured your sock drawer would be a safe spot to hide it in.”

“It's true. I could care more about my socks, yet, here we are,” he sighed with a smile. Alistair took the box from her, holding it up to his ear and shaking it.

“Careful!” Lana said quickly, biting her tongue as she realized how short she had been.

“Oh? Is it fragile?” He pulled the ribbon, setting it on the small table next to him before picking apart the brown paper. “When did you sneak out to get something?”

“I didn't,” she said. Lana watched Alistair expectantly as he went to open the top of the small box. “It took a bit of writing and begging to get it in time, but…”

Alistair squinted in the dim light as he peered into the box, before his expression changed dramatically. His lips parted, his brows quirking sharply together and upwards as he stared at the item in disbelief.

“You seemed so sad, when you told me about throwing your mother's amulet before you were sent away from Redcliffe,” Lana piped in. “I thought… You already gave me such a great gift, giving me this new life. I wanted to repay you for that, even just a little.”

There was a slight tremor to Alistair's hand as he removed the amulet from the box. It was almost as he remembered it all those years ago: silver, with Andraste's flame embellished on the body of it, only now it was riddled with cracks from when he had shattered it in his anger. The only thing he had ever had of the mother he had never known. When Alistair finally spoke, there was a slight crack to his voice, a waver as he stared at the last thing he would have expected to receive as a gift that night or any night.

“How… How did you ever…?”

“I wrote to Lady Isolde of Redcliffe after you told me about it. I asked if she could ask around and see if anyone knew what had become of it.”

“Lady Isolde helped you find it?” The idea was obviously unbelievable to Alistair, as made evident by the confused tone of his voice.

“I mentioned she could consider it a personal favor to the future Queen that would be remembered greatly.”

“Mad with power already,” he chuckled, wiping his eyes as tears threatened to flow from them. He ran his fingers over the cracks. Each piece had been glued together, smooth to the touch despite the visual lines. “Someone must have spent hours putting this back together to make it so perfect… Maker's breath, Lana, you have… no idea what this means to me.”

Alistair pulled Lana to him, wrapping his arms around her as he held her close. He gripped the amulet in his hand as he buried his face in her hair, kissing the crown of her head as he squeezed her tight.

“I'm afraid my gift for you is a bit lackluster compared to what you've given me,” he chuckled, wiping his eyes once more before releasing her from his tight grasp.

“You've already given me the greatest gift of all,” Lana said, smiling up at him. Alistair smiled as she placed her hand sweetly along his jaw. He turned his head, kissing her palm before pocketing the amulet.

“That doesn't count. That was three weeks ago. All the same, I think you'll still enjoy this one.” The playful sparkle had returned to his eyes as he took her hands and pulled her over towards the sitting area. Rather than bringing her to the sofa, he turned her so her back was to the hearth. “Sit on the floor for me?” He laughed as Lana quirked her brow at him. “Just… Trust me. And close your eyes. No peeking!”

Lana gave him a suspicious glance before smiling and doing as she was asked. She sat on her knees, eyes closed as she listened to Alistair hurriedly walk to the left until the sound of him all but disappeared. She tried to imagine in her mind where he was going, her brows furrowing as she heard him whispering something she couldn't quite make out. Then, there was the sound of scampering, and clacking, and a split second of silence before something wet was suddenly being dragged across her face in an excited manner.

Lana instinctively held out her hands to hold back whatever was in front of her, her fingers gently gripping into short tufts of fur before she was able to open her eyes. There in front of her was a mabari, absolutely tiny in comparison to Alistair's, light grey with floppy ears and a tongue that couldn't be bothered to remain in its mouth. Lana moved to look up at Alistair, but her attention was called quickly back as the mabari barked loudly as it clamored onto her lap and tried to climb into her arms.

“Only right the Queen of Ferelden should have her own. Don't you think?” Alistair said with a grin. Lana was trying desperately to respond to him, unable to get in a word other than her laughter as the mabari puppy proceeded to lick her face excitedly. She eventually got her hands on the pup’s back, and with some light force pushed it onto its bottom until it sat.

“I don't know what to say.” Lana shook her head, unable to control the smile on her face as she rubbed the pup’s head. Alistair kneeled down next to her, leaning his shoulder against hers.

“Do you like her?”

“Like her? Alistair, she's perfect.” Lana continued petting the pup, even as it quirked its head to the side in slight confusion and a whine. Alistair followed her gaze to Lana's face and saw the shimmering of the low light on her cheeks. His mouth quirked into a small smile as he wrapped his arm around her, just as Lana leaned her head against his shoulder. Maker, but she had never been gifted anything before in her life, not anything she would have been able to keep. The mabari puppy looked up at her with big eyes, and for a second Lana could have sworn the girl was smiling. The big pup sidled down onto her stomach, before making a couple long yaps and nuzzling Lana's lap.

“What do you want to call her?” Alistair asked.

“I get to name her?” Lana smiled as she felt Alistair hum his response while kissing the top of her head. She wiped her eyes, inhaling deeply as she tried to think. She slowly pet the pup, her hand following the curve of her floppy ear. “What kind of a name do you want, hm? I bet you're going to get big like Bryn, aren't you? How about… Petra?”

The pup perked her ear up, shifting her head slightly at the name.

“Do you like that? Petra?” Lana laughed as the dog barked a number of times as her little tail wagged wildly. She jumped up without warning, barking once more before leaping to sit on Lana's lap and knocking her back.

“Now, Petra, you have to make sure to look after Lana. She's very important.” Alistair spoke to Petra with a hint of judgement in his voice, almost like a parent teasingly scolding their child. As if she picked up on the tone, Petra shifted her weight slightly, just enough to allow Lana to sit back up with her arms around the pup. Alistair petted Petra on the head, speaking much more softly this time. “Much better. Who's a good girl? Who's sitting nicely on mommy? Hmm? Is it you?”

Petra barked loudly, her small tail thumping wildly against Lana's thigh as her tongue lolled at the side of her mouth. Lana ran her hand down Petra, starting from her head and moving towards her tail. She was warm against her, all settled and snuggled up in Lana's arms.

“This wouldn't have anything to do with the attempt last week, would it?” Lana asked.

“I mean… It may have influenced my choice a bit,” Alistair admitted. “I had wanted to get you one. Now just seemed like perfect timing, being Satinalia and all. I'm not sure how foreboding she'll be since she's more tongue than bite at the moment, but I would be lying if I said it wouldn't ease my heart knowing she'll be following you everywhere.”

“You think she'll like me enough?” Lana asked quietly. She was scratching behind Petra's ear now, cradling the pup's head in her arm as she slowly lulled her into a nice calm.

“You said you read a bit about mabari before?” Alistair waited until Lana nodded before he continued. “I think she imprinted on you the moment she saw you. She knew right where to go when I told her to go find you. Maker, look at her. I see pure love on her face right now. I can't blame her, really. I'd be a puddle myself if someone rubbed my ear like that while snuggling me.”

“You allow me to sleep in your bed enough as it is, just say the word and this bliss can be yours as well,” Lana teased. Alistair chuckled as he watched her cheeks redden. She was becoming more comfortable, less afraid of speaking her mind and having fun. Maker, but watching her come out of her shell was proving to be the best gift of all.

“Happy Satinalia, Lana,” he said warmly. He wrapped his arm around her once more, pulling her towards his side as she continued to hold Petra. Lana twisted a bit, turning to face Alistair. He knew that look on her face well by now - that warmth and happy glow in her eyes let him know exactly what she was thinking about. He met her halfway, pressing his lips against hers softly as the warmth from the hearth wrapped around them. And when their lips parted, Lana rested her forehead against Alistair's as he remained hunched towards her, and she smiled so sincerely she was sure her heart would bubble over.

“Happy Satinalia, Alistair.”

[theluckywizard]

2023 Writing Recap

Thanks for the tag @nirikeehan

(apparently I'm just going to do tumblr tag games for NYE! but this is a good one sooooo). It is hard to believe I just started writing Fanfic in January because weeeeee it has been a year!

Tagging @warpedlegacy, @crackinglamb, @leggywillow, @delicatefade, @melisusthewee, @spicywarl0ck, @skyeventide, @ammoniteflesh, @wildercrow, @rowanisawriter

words posted: probably about 370,000

additional words written: 140,000

grand total of words: 510,000

fandoms:

Dragon Age!

highest kudos:

My Cullen x Trevelyan and m!Hawke x Trevelyan longfic WIP In the Shattering of Things with 121

highest hit oneshot:

My Alistair x Cousland first time smut The Boy Who Talked too Much with 752 hits and 63 kudos

new things I tried:

Writing fanfiction 😂 Yeeting canon, being horrible to my blorbos

fic I spent the most time on:

In the Shattering of Things, if it isn't obvious!

fic I spent the least time on:

Probably my WIP Nightmare!AU A Splinter of Light which I really want to dig into, but I felt it pulling me from Longfic so I stopped (the premise is Rose and Dorian never return from the corrupted future and get scooped up by Hawke and his DA2 crew (Bethany, Fenris, Merrell, Anders, Elegant).

favorite thing I wrote:

Ohhh so this is probably my WIP Kiss Me Moonstruck, my matchmakingmoms!AU in which old friends Leandra Hawke and Alsatia Trevelyan try to fix up their two incorrigible children Garrett and Rose over Satinalia at the start of DA:2, Act 2. One of the reasons I am so into it is because it's new and I get to fold in alllll the lessons learned so far this year, but also because it's a self-contained romantic comedy/adventure romp with a lot of class commentary. If I'd thought of it first it would have served as a heck of a backstory for an Inquisition long fic. 👀

favorite thing(s) I read:

Weather the Dawn by @skyeventide - Breathtakingly beautiful portrayal of the friendship between Sebastian Vael and Nathaniel Howe. Archery descriptions that will give you chills. Deftly handled politics. Sky has such an incredible way of describing things that is just achingly original and beautiful. 🏹

The Rise by @warpedlegacywrites - This Cullevelyan fic is the reason I started writing fan fic! It was the first long fic I read that really grabbed me by the throat and held me! The delicious crunch and angst, the ROMANCE. It is so beautifully written. And BECandCall/WarpedLegacy and this fic is the reason I even found the fan fic writing community. 🥰

A Little Grace; And Some Elegance by @nirikeehan is a GUT PUNCHING work exploring Cullen's addiction and his history with Raleigh Samson. Her character work is amazing and her respectful but *brutal* grappling with lyrium addiction feels so authentic. And honestly, any of Niri's Cullen and Samson in Kirkwall stuff! Check out the stuff in her Kirkwall Kops (LOL). I use them as background research!

writing goals for 2024:

KEEP GROWING AS A WRITER. Keep plugging at long fic (maybe finish!?), finish and release Kiss Me Moonstruck, do the DAFF OC / OC exchange

new works:

LOLOL the last new work that isn't a companion fic to the longfic or the longfic itself is my Kinktober spanking (yes, really) one shot Proper Provocation. I spent a long time trying to figure out how to reasonably get Cullen to spank my OC Rose and I think getting them bickering and turning it into a playful spank fight was the way to go. THIS IS NOT HIGHLY POLISHED but it is silly and fun and smuttish and I yeeted it onto AO3. Please enjoy my new work 😂

Template under the cut!

words posted:

additional words written:

grand total of words:

fandoms:

highest kudos:

highest hit oneshot:

new things I tried:

fic I spent the most time on:

fic I spent the least time on:

favorite thing I wrote:

favorite thing(s) I read:

writing goals for 2024:

new works:

[shannaraisles]

Comfort & Ploy - Chapter 1

Carver Hawke needs a girlfriend for the festive season. Filipa Trevelyan needs an excuse not to spend Satinalia with her parents. Best friends pretending to be lovers ... what could possibly go wrong?

[Read on AO3]

*****

"This is going to be so awkward."

Filipa laughed, gently nudging her companion's arm as reassuringly as she could manage. Carver had been full of reluctance and overblown warnings of catastrophe ever since they had got off the boat an hour ago. Up until that point, the journey from Kirkwall to Denerim had been going rather well.

"I'm sure it's not going to be as bad as all that," she said. "It'll be fine, nowhere near as terrible as you're making out."

"Save that thought until after you've met my brother," he warned in a dark tone, pressing the button to call the elevator.

She snorted, rolling her eyes at his insistence on being a doom-sayer.

"Look, the whole point of me being here is to keep the worst from happening," she reminded him. "You show up with a girlfriend, and he and his girlfriend don't try to set you up for a one night stand at any of their festive bashes. We can do this."

"I really can't thank you enough for this, Pip," he said, letting her step into the elevator ahead of him. "I owe you, big time."

Leaning back against the cool wall as the doors closed, Filipa smiled at her friend, resting her bag at her feet.

"This got me out of having to go to Ostwick for Satinalia, and got me into Denerim for the season, so I can actually visit my sister without having to stay with her or break the bank," she pointed out. "I'd say we're even on the favors front."

"And you're sure you're okay with ... pretending?"

He eyed her worriedly. It had probably been a spur of the moment suggestion, back in Ansburg, that she should come to Denerim for the holiday in the guise of his girlfriend, so they could both have a better Satinalia than they'd had for a while. She was certain he had not expected her to agree so readily, but where was the harm? She liked him, he liked her. They'd been good friends for more than a year now. It wasn't so very much to ask.

"Trust me," she insisted. "Your brother is going to be totally convinced that we're madly in love, and have been for the last six months."

"Without it being weird," he added quickly.

"Without weirdness," she agreed with a grin. "Calm down."

"I'm trying to!"

As the elevator came to a halt on the top floor, Filipa watched him take a deep breath, as though bracing himself for what was to come. Anyone would think he was about to face off with a dragon, rather than have an early dinner with his brother and a few of said brother's friends. She refused to believe that Garrett Hawke was even half as bad as Carver made out and besides, they only had to keep the pretense up in front of his family; her sister knew she was bringing a friend to their meet-ups, and Carver would be able to relax a little. Indeed, she wasn't entirely sure he needed to be so wound up in the first place; they'd been over and over their cover story so there were no gaps, and had even agreed on just how far they were prepared to go as far as proof of affection was concerned. Filipa wasn't worried at all.

Stepping out into the narrow hallway, she reached out to squeeze Carver's hand, surprised to feel him lace his fingers through hers and hold on tightly. She glanced up at his face, biting down a small giggle at how pale he seemed to have gone.

"Last chance to back out," she whispered, as he rang the doorbell.

Carver looked down at her, his expression relaxing a little in the face of her warm confidence.

"Thanks, Pip."

She grinned at him, swaying into his side affectionately for a moment as the lock sounded and the door in front of them was swung open. A stunning black woman greeted them, wide smile all kinds of suggestive as she looked them over.

"There you are at last," she declared. "I thought I was going to lose my bet. Come in, come in, and bring your sweet thing with you."

Carver released Filipa's hand and gave her a gentle push into the apartment ahead of him, where she found herself quickly enveloped in a startlingly handsy hug from their female host. She actually squeaked as the woman's hands snuck inside her coat to pat her backside before retreating.

"You must be Isabela," she managed, laughing awkwardly to cover her moment of unexpected surprise.

"My reputation precedes me," Isabela agreed, her cheer more than a little tinged with wicked playfulness. "You shouldn't believe everything this one says."

"Oh, she definitely should," Carver countered, only a little grim in expression as he bent to let his brother's girlfriend give him the same kind of embrace she had just bestowed on Filipa. He was apparently used to the hands, quick to disentangle himself with the premise of helping his "girlfriend" off with her coat. "This is Pip - ah, Filipa. Pip, you're right; this is Isabela. How are you, 'Bela?"

"Delighted to find you in the company of such a precious beauty," Isabela responded, giving him an outrageous wink and pout. "And a little put out I didn't get to meet her first. I hope you are treating her right."

"He's a perfect gentleman," Filipa answered quickly, before Carver could open his mouth with something defensive and obvious.

Isabela's laugh was positively filthy.

"Oh dear, pup," she teased. "I obviously haven't taught you anywhere near well enough if you're that much of a gentleman with your squeeze."

"Not everyone spends every waking moment trying to get laid, 'Bela," Carver complained, but this only made her laugh once again.

"Just as well you don't have to try any more then," Isabela answered with impish delight, pushing their bags into the space under the coats on the wall. "How do you put up with him, Pip?"

Filipa had managed to recover herself by now, and was trying valiantly not to grin at the delightful contrast between Carver and the woman who would have been his sister-in-law if his brother was of a marrying frame of mind.

"He has his moments," she offered, vague enough that Carver didn't blush or get uncomfortable.

This time, she wasn't surprised when he took her hand; she had a feeling he was going to be holding onto her like grim death for the majority of the time they spent with his family for the next week.

"You will have to tell me all about them," Isabela teased, turning toward a half-closed door, from behind which came the sound of other people's voices. "Come on in, sweet thing, and do bring the gentleman with you."

As she turned away, Filipa looked up at Carver, attempting to express her understanding and amusement with just her eyes, and had to struggle not to laugh at the obvious look of I told you so in his answering glance.  She squeezed his hand, pausing just long enough to lean up and whisper for his ears only,

"It's going to be fine. Trust me."

He leaned down, hugging her hand to his chest for a moment.

"Who do I have to kill to have your confidence?" he muttered, smirking as she spluttered with laughter.

Hand in hand, they followed Isabela into a wide living room that lead out onto an equally wide balcony. The room itself was hung with garlands and multi-colored lights, a dining table set up in the middle with most of the chairs already filled. Filipa's first impression was of laughter and smiles and warm chatter, an atmosphere that was entirely lacking in her own family home, and she felt a brief pang of envy that Carver had this in at least one place where his family made their home.

"Look who made it at last!" Isabela announced, and a bearded man lurched up from the table.

He bounded across the room in about three steps, threw an arm around Carver's neck, and bent him double into a headlock, pressing a loud kiss to the taller man's dark hair.

"My little baby brother! I've missed you!"

"Get - argh - get off, Garrett!"

Released from Carver's grip, and a little startled all over again at the greeting he was getting from his brother, Filipa didn't even register the other faces at the table until a small body barreled into her at speed, throwing arms about her waist.

"Auntie Pip! Mum said you weren't coming until tomorrow!"

Sudden horror piled in on top of Filipa's confidence as she lowered her eyes to the grinning face of Alys, her sister's step-daughter. Oh dear.

"I, I wasn't expecting to see you here," she managed, wrapping the little girl up in a hug. Her eyes traveled to the table, to find Mila grinning over at her in equally delighted surprise. Oh crap. "Hi."

Cullen, Mila's husband, offered her a vague salute, too engaged in conversation with the dwarf on his right to do more, but Mila rose from the table to hug her little sister warmly, even as Carver forcibly removed his own brother from around his neck.

"It's so lovely to see you, Pip," the older sister said, hugging close for a long moment before drawing back. "But I'm pretty sure you said you'd be arriving tomorrow."

"Well, I didn't want you to think you had to change all your plans for me," Filipa managed awkwardly. How was this happening? She had the worst luck - do a friend a favor, and end up lying to family. Of course. It could only happen to her. "Besides, I, um ..."

She gestured a little helplessly toward Carver, who was glancing between her and Mila in undisguised horror. Garrett slapped his younger brother on the back.

"So you snagged yourself a Trevelyan, did you?" he teased cheerfully. "I tell you, if I weren't a happily Isabela'd man, I might have to take a trip to Ostwick and snaffle the third one away from under her parents' nose."

"Oh, Maker ..."

Carver's groan and grimace echoed everything Filipa was feeling inside, but she had made a promise to him. She could always explain everything to Mila tomorrow. They just had to get through this meal without things getting too awful for them both.

"Wait, you're Carver's girlfriend?" Mila asked in amazement, looking down at her sister with raised brows. "You didn't tell me you were seeing anyone!"

"No, I didn't." Filipa scanned her answer; no, there was no lie there. Not yet, anyway. "I did tell you I was bringing someone with me for Saturnalia."

"A friend," Mila reminded her with a cheeky grin. "No, this is fantastic. I get why you didn't want to sleep on our couch now."

"Is Carver your friend, Auntie Pip?" Alys asked, still clinging to Filipa's waist and grinning as though all her best dreams had just come true.

"He is, Nuglet," Filipa confirmed, glancing over at said friend. It took a bit of effort, but she managed to pull out a convincing smile, opening her hand to invite him a little closer. "Carver, this is my sister, Mila, and her daughter, Alys. Her husband is Cullen over there."

"I know Cullen," he admitted awkwardly, terror of being suddenly exposed just barely banked in his eyes. "I didn't know Mila was your sister, though."

"I didn't know you knew the Hawkes," Filipa said, turning it onto Mila, who shrugged.

"Well, they bailed on our wedding, and they've never really come up in conversation," she said. "Come and sit down - we all have a lot to talk about."

"Can I sit next to Auntie Pip?" Alys asked hopefully, finally disengaging from Filipa's waist to potter over to the table and make her ideal seating arrangement come true.

"If you ask nicely for someone to move up a couple of places so Carver can sit on her other side, then yes," Cullen told his daughter, brushing red hair out of her eyes.

As Alys then turned her attention onto charming Garrett into giving up his seat at the head of the table to her so she could sit between her aunt and her father, Carver bent down to Filipa's ear.

"Maker, I am so sorry," he began, but she shook her head with a smile, deliberately turning them so his back was to the table and she was completely hidden behind him.

"We'll deal," she murmured to him. "Not backing out. You?"

He looked torn for a moment, frowning.

"It's not weird?" he asked.

"Not weird," she promised, patting his chest with a grin. "Odd, yes. I'll sort it out tomorrow."

"Auntie Pip, come and sit down!"

Despite his worries, Carver snorted with laughter at the imperious demand for their attention, turning to let Filipa get a good view of Alys waving her hands at them both to come and take their newly vacated seats at the dinner table.

Still hand in hand, Filipa let herself be drawn that way, easing down into the chair beside the excited little girl as the first dinner of the Denerim festivities began.  All right, so she hadn't expected to find herself pretending to be dating someone in front of her own family, but it was fine. They could handle this. She just had to hope that Carver didn't panic and out them before the end of the first course.

[ladymdc]

Chapters: 16/20 Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Rating: Explicit Relationships: Female Mage Trevelyan/Cullen Rutherford Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Noir, Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Worldbuilding, POV Cullen Rutherford, Lyrium Withdrawal, Self-Worth Issues, Touch-Starved, Mutual Pining, From Sex to Love, Denial of Feelings, Idiots in Love, Slow Build, No Damsel in Distress Here, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Feels, Protectiveness, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Everyone Needs A Hug, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Hopeful Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, On rare occasion, Explicit Consent, fic is sprinkled with commissioned art Summary: In a world on the verge of collapse, C.S. Rutherford did what he could to survive, at least until a routine case led him down a path he never expected to cross, and a dame with dark verdant eyes and a sharp wit strode into his office.

With nothing as it seemed, including her, perhaps it all wasn’t as hopeless as he thought.

(A Noir AU twist on the events DA:I)

CH16: Started out as just fun and games, but now we plays for keeps. (smol excerpt below the cut)

Ezmond’s eyes locked onto Cullen’s. They were lighter in color than Evelyn’s. More piercing. He held out his hand, shrugging a little. “Happy Satinalia, Brother.”

Cullen chuckled, more out of nerves than anything. He let go of the gift in his pocket; until then he hadn’t noticed his fingers were starting to go numb. They shook hands. There was strength in Ezmond’s grip, but nothing that felt like a warning to be careful with his sister.

“Happy Satinalia,” Cullen returned.

Ezmond clapped him on the shoulder then took a few steps backward. “Last I saw Evelyn she was in the den.” And with that, he walked away and did not look back.

Cullen did.

Four years had passed since that pivotal moment in Evelyn’s life that set her down this path. The invisible foundation upon which the Resistance had been built. And when everything she had sacrificed for was razed to the ground, Evelyn took all her suffering, all her anger, and added it to the rest; locked it behind a door she slammed shut — and kept going.

In a way, Cullen had done the same, but without forward momentum. He had traveled in concentric circles, tired yet tireless; feeding off his turmoil to survive in a world he had helped create until Evelyn disrupted that cycle to show him there was another way. As he peered into the den, Cullen knew he would not to go back to the beginning to risk choosing a path that would lead someplace different.

[fairandfatalasfair]

Holidays are for Families

For @dovabunny, for @teamblueandangry​’s ‘Let It Glow’ gift event.

“I should have known I would find you here.”

Anders didn't look up at the acerbic tone in Fenris’ voice. “Are you injured, or just keeping track of me?”

Fenris uncrossed his arms and pulled himself away from the blank cement wall of the clinic's waiting room. “I am looking for you,” he said, “Because it is Satinalia. And I assumed - foolishly it seems - that the man who was telling us just two days ago that Satinalia was his favourite holiday as a child might be celebrating it.”

“I'm not a child anymore,” said Anders, pausing to rub out a cramp in his hand, “and I have charting to do.”

Fenris perched himself on a low shelf beside Anders, shoving a stack of papers aside to make room, and peered at the healer's furious scribbles.

“Your writing is illegible,” said Fenris. His reading would likely not have been up to the task of interpreting Anders' medical notes under any circumstances, but Anders' cramped overlapping scrawl could barely be recognised as language.

“Yes, well, unfortunately for me I don’t have a computer,” said Anders. “Fortunately for me, none of my patients can afford any other medical care, so no one else will ever need to read them.”

“You should rest,” said Fenris.

“I took a coffee break half an hour ago.”

“That hardly qualifies,” said Fenris. “You should take an evening away from worrying about your patients and your ridiculous manifesto and your-” he grimaced “compatriots in the circles. And celebrate Satinalia.”

Anders finished whatever he was writing and turned to face Fenris. In the harsh lighting of the clinic, his face looked paler than usual. There were shadows under his eyes. Fenris felt a brief flash of irritation at the mage for his insistent self-neglect. Even here, Anders could have lived a life of relative ease and comfort. Hawke would have seen to it. Instead he was sitting alone in an un-heated clinic writing notes into the night and subsisting on stale coffee. For his cause.

Fool, Fenris thought, not for the first time. And if there was more concern than condemnation in the word, well, he was the only one who needed to know.

“Fenris...” Anders sighed. “I haven't really done Satinalia in a long time. It's not...the circles treat it as a strictly religious observance, prayers and admonishments mostly. The wardens never did much for it. Darkspawn don't give a shit about holidays, and wardens come from all different faiths. I exchanged a few gifts with Nate, but that was all. And now...holidays are for families. All I would be doing is sitting at home turning a fake tree into an ostentatious display of pretend wealth and trying to ignore that I have nothing to put under it.”

Fenris absorbed this rant in silence, watching Anders' face. Anders looked back at his pen, picked it up and pulled a new file towards himself. “Why are you so insistent anyway?” he asked. “I thought elves usually didn't celebrate Satinalia.”

“Perhaps you should consider what I celebrate rather than what 'elves' celebrate,” replied Fenris sharply. Not offended, exactly, but...it irritated him to have assumptions made about his relationship to a heritage of which he had no memory.

Anders tipped his head, conceding the point. “Maybe I should,” he said. Dryly, “I take it then that you are a tremendous fan of chantry holidays.”

“Not...as such,” Fenris admitted. “Satinalia in Tevinter is a grand occasion. Great fun for the magisters and alti. Less so for the slaves.”

“So why are you so determined that I should celebrate?”

Fenris sidestepped the question by reaching out and plucking the mage's pen from his hand. He spoke over the mage's half-hearted protests. “Varric and Isabela and Aveline and Donnic are at the Hanged Man. Merrill is not celebrating satinalia but she will drop in 'just for a regular evening'. And you are going to leave your work for a night and come sing off-key songs and unwrap things from shiny paper packages. And then you will come home and sleep on my couch, instead of curling up in one of your exam rooms with a blanket and shivering all night.”

“I'm not...Fenris...I didn't get anyone anything! You can't invite a fellow to a satinalia party with twenty minutes notice, I can't-”

“The point of a gift is that it does not have to be paid back,” said Fenris ruthlessly, diplomatically passing over the fact that the mage could ill-afford to be spending his money on gifts. “Come to satinalia with us Anders.”

Anders looked around, flustered, then seemed to concede defeat, putting his files away and rising reluctantly to his feet. “Fenris, I...I still don't understand why you’re so adamant that I be there.”

You could have just done Satinalia with the rest of the group and left me out, was the subtext, diplomatically unspoken but still clearly understood.

Fenris shook his head, unsure what to say.

Because you argue with me as if it matters to you what I think.

Because you argue with Isabela once she’s well past the point of too drunk to talk to and it’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.

Because you get my dirty jokes even faster than Isabela and you blush like a teenager every time.

Because imagining you sitting here frozen, and abandoned, and careless of your own welfare would gnaw at me all night.

“Because I am not in Tevinter. And Satinalia is for families.”

And family is the people who are there for you even when you don't get along. Anders had been that to him, every time they argued, and traded insults, and drank over card games, and had each others' backs in battle. Every time they found something they agreed on and their eyes met in a brief moment of surprise and satisfaction.

“Alright,” said Anders, and already his face seemed to have a little more warmth in it. “Just for tonight though. You wouldn't believe how stupid people can be when they're drunk and surrounded by people they haven't seen in a year and want to impress. Not to mention the state of the roads. I'll have a line out the door by morning.”

He gathered up his threadbare coat, and leaned his shoulder against Fenris' in silent thanks as they made their way out of the clinic, smiling .

“Happy Satinalia Fenris.”

“Happy Satinalia Anders.”

[slothquisitor]

Those Who Share Our Broken Hearts

This is my half of the Satinalia collaboration with @lechatrouge673​. Her brilliant half, We Choose Each Other, is definitely required reading. Chat was also kind enough to edit Thea for me, and not hate me too much as I tried to do Thea justice. This takes place in @lechatrouge673​‘s Songs Forgotten and Remembered AU, and occurs after the events of Faults and Falling. Because this is a companion piece, I totally borrowed Chat’s formatting and titling from song lyrics in hopes it would tie everything in just a bit more. 4k words. 

Also on AO3.

Like the petals in our pockets May we remember who we are Unconditionally cared for By those who share our broken hearts.

- “Snow” by Sleeping at Last

Mara had never been to a city quite like Denerim. Downtown Wycome didn’t even count, and Kirkwall was far too sprawling. Denerim was compact, everything had sprung up along the shoreline and the river, and when they arrived it was gray and perfect.

Cullen had whisked her away as soon as the bell rang on the last day before school break. It had been a weird half day schedule, and school had gone right up to two days before the holiday. At least she had two blessed weeks off.

Satinalia was a much bigger deal in Ferelden, and she’d sort of celebrated the holiday in her youth, more because other folks were than any real conviction on her parent’s part. She made sure that her father received a package of chocolate covered orange sticks and she always called, but it was not a holiday that necessitated more than that. It was different for Cullen, and she didn’t mind that at all.

Cullen had made sure that Elevate House was decked out and festive. They’d had a big holiday party and despite their trip to Denerim, Cullen had made sure that there was plenty going on at Elevate House over the holiday. The holidays could be a particularly difficult time, and after the main festivities at Mia’s she and Cullen planned to spend the evening there. But for now, they were in Denerim.

Their hotel was in the heart of downtown, and she could see the winding river heading out to the sea from the window. It hadn’t snowed yet, but the clouds were dark enough to threaten it. In the gray day, the river was a deep teal color, and Mara could see people and cars moving below her. The whole place just emitted this sense of life and movement. It wasn’t very late, but the trees were all lit up, glowing from their boxes in the middle of the sidewalks.

Cullen came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her as he pressed a kiss to her hair. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” she replied.

“There’s no place quite like Denerim during Satinalia,” Cullen said.

She believed it, and was still a little taken back at how much Cullen had wanted to bring her here. She suspected part of it was also that there was a Satinalia party at Thea’s tomorrow too, and he’d get the chance to see his friends. She wasn’t exactly nervous for it, but she did feel a little bit anxious. She’d met everyone already, and she liked them all. She just wanted them to continue to like her, Thea especially.

“Do you want to go exploring?” Cullen asked.

Mara nodded. “Yes, please.”

They both bundled up because the breeze coming off the sea was brutal, and in just a few minutes they were out braving the cold. Their gloved hands were clutched together, and Mara was grateful that Cullen knew his way around. Most of the time, her head was tilted up staring up at the towering buildings they passed. One of them looked like a giant champagne bottle peeking up out of ice, the spire glinted gold even in the low light. Other buildings were pieces of art, designs carved out of their stone faces, and still others were gleaming towers of steel and glass. Mara had this absurd notion that if she wasn’t looking at everything as they walked, she might somehow miss something incredible.

“It’s a good thing I’m here,” Cullen chuckled, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Why do you say that?”

She seemed to be floating back down to the sidewalk level as she turned to look at him. His golden eyes bright were bright with amusement, and the scar on his lip pulled as he smiled. “Because you’d walk right into the road or people if it meant you could stare up at the buildings the whole time.”

Ahead of them, a train roared by on the elevated. “It just seems to go on forever.”

She knew it wasn’t true, of course, but it seemed that way standing on that street corner and staring down the road that was bordered by skyscrapers as far as she could see. It made her feel incredibly small and insignificant, but not in a foreboding ominous sort of way. No, it was more out of a sense of awe. That the world could be so big, and so full of people and life, and that she was just one person within it.

“Look,” Cullen pointed across the street. There was a small square in the shadow of an enormous building. There were wooden booths all arranged in long rows. The edges of the booths were lined with green garlands and the roofs were covered in red and white canvas. People were perusing the shops and the air was thick with the smell of cinnamon and vanilla.

“What is that?” Mara asked.

“It’s an annual Satinalia market. Do you want to check it out?”

“Yes, please.” They waited for the signal to change before they crossed the street, and found themselves moving along in the ebb and swell of people through the booths. Most of the booths seemed to be selling glass ornaments, and they glinted in the light. Some of them were Denerim specific, the skyline covered in snow. Some booths had beautiful woodcarvings too, Mara was eyeing a particularly intricate wooden dragon when Cullen whispered he’d be right back.

She was looking into a booth of beautiful wooden cuckoo clocks when Cullen reappeared, handing her a steaming stoneware mug. “What is this?”

“Ferelden hot cocoa,” Cullen replied.

The mug was red and yellow with stars and snowflakes around the whole thing. “Thank you.”

She took a tentative sip, worried it might be too hot, but it was the perfect temperature, and also the richest hot cocoa she had ever had. No wonder the mug was as small as it was.

“The mug is yours to keep too,” Cullen said.

She laughed. “My first Denerim souvenir!”

Cullen joined her, wrapping an arm around her. “Sure, unless there’s something you have to have here at the market.”

“I think I’m okay,” Mara replied. It was all lovely, but she definitely didn’t need anything.

“Shall we continue on then?” Cullen asked.

Mara linked her arm with his. “Where to next, Mr. Tour Guide?”

Surprisingly, Cullen didn’t roll his eyes. “This way.”

***

Fitzgerald wrote in The Great Gatsby: “It is invariably saddening to look through new eyes at things upon which you have expended your own powers of adjustment.” Cullen couldn’t get that quote out of his head as they had traveled to Denerim, worried that somehow everything he loved there might not be the same in bringing Mara to see it. He worried that she might not find that same magic he had, but then they’d entered the city. Mara’s green eyes had been wide open ever since, taking in everything, a look a supreme awe gracing her lovely features. It was like looking back into his own years. Fitzgerald had been wrong.

Cullen still remembered that first Satinalia in Denerim. He was still fresh out of the SFU, and he’d signed on to work most of the holiday. Someone had to, and he figured it ought not to be someone who actually wanted to be home for the holiday. His withdrawals had been hitting him hard, and it certainly wasn’t the first Satinalia he’d missed. He’d promised to go out for a weekend around First Day to appease Mia, and he hadn’t regretted it at first. He still remembered working late on Satinalia Eve, and finally being able to call it a day. The trains were running an abbreviated schedule, and the next wasn’t for a full half hour. He’d decided to walk instead. Denerim was frigid at best in the winter, but there was a storm moving in, promising a white Satinalia, so it’d been a bit warmer.

He hadn’t been in the city long, and that was the first time he’d really taken a moment to look around him. Denerim had been a place to land, and the distance from his siblings had been welcome at first. But Cullen remembered that evening had been one of the loneliest he’d ever felt. There must have been some degree of magic in the air because he remembered that it had started to snow, and he’d turned the corner to find one of the older chantries in the city, it’s sprawling gardens a glowing rainbow. Each tree had been wrapped all the way out to the tiniest branches, and the whole place looked exactly like Satinalia should. That was the moment he’d found the beauty in Denerim, and he wasn’t sure how to put that into words, how to explain all of those complicated feelings to the woman whose hand he currently held.

It was much colder that night than it had been all those years ago, and the awe had worn off a bit. Mara was pointing out different buildings and architecture that had caught her eye. He’d been half listening, caught in memories.

They were walking along the river as the sun set, and above them the skyscrapers were blinking to life. There weren’t many on the river due to the cold, and Mara stopped walking. “Hey, you with me?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Sorry, I was…” He didn’t have words to explain where he was, or what he’d been thinking about.

Mara waited, always patient, never pushing.

“I was thinking about my first Satinalia in Denerim,” he explained. It wasn’t quite the full explanation, but it was perhaps a start.

They started walking again. “That would have been not long after you moved here?”

“About a month and a half. I didn’t go to South Reach that year, stuck around here alone.”

Mara gave his hand a squeeze. “And now I know why Mia was so adamant we be there for Satinalia. You’ve got a bad track record.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “You have no idea.”

“Off topic. You were alone in the city on Satinalia,” Mara offered.

“Satinalia Eve,” Cullen corrected. “I had plenty of invitations, but none of them really felt right. I should have been in South Reach, but part of me was convinced that I wasn’t the brother my siblings needed at that point.”

Mara nodded in understanding, blonde hair bouncing from under the hat she wore to shield her ears from the cold. “They just needed you, regardless, you know that, right?”

He brought her hand up to his lips, pressed a kiss across her gloved knuckles. “I know that now, but then…”

He’d wandered the city looking for meaning. He hadn’t found it, not exactly, but he had discovered some beauty, some magic in the cold Satinalia air. That was why he’d wanted to bring Mara here, show her some of what he’d found. And he’d worried that somehow, none of it would actually be in the air.

They’d reached the end of the riverwalk, and having crested the stairs he knew exactly where they were. He hadn’t planned it, hadn’t walked the river in so long he didn’t remember where it let out. Across the street stood that same chantry he’d come across, and the gardens were somehow brighter, more beautiful than he remembered.

“Whoa,” Mara said. “They really know how to go all out, don’t they?”

“They certainly do.”

There were people walking around the garden square, snapping pictures and looking at the gorgeous trees. “Can we walk around it?”

There was enough excitement in her voice that surprised him. He found himself loving her more and more as he watched her wander the city he’d called his home. “Of course.”

***

Mara shifted the presents she was carrying from one hand to the other as she adjusted her black dress. She’d taken a bit longer to get ready than she usual, and she was sure that Cullen had noticed, especially since they’d been sharing a rather small hotel bathroom. She was feeling woefully unprepared for the evening. More so now that she was now looking at Thea’s house, and at the place Cullen had called home for two years.

The place was massive, and utterly secluded. Mara could hear the crash of the ocean in the background too. The large picture windows glowed invitingly, and the the place was lit from top to bottom for Satinalia.

“This is...you lived here?” she turned to Cullen.

He nodded. “Yes.” The fact was as casual a thing to him as her tiny apartment back in South Reach, her mostly empty apartment. They hadn’t officially moved in together, but they were slowly migrating the things of hers they wanted to keep to his apartment. Her lease was up in a week, and so it had made sense.

But Mara stared at the house. “And there’s a loft too?”

“Yes,” Cullen replied pointing down the road. “Just that way, and where we’re staying tonight.”

“Is Thea accepting applications for sisterwives? Because I’m in,” Mara said as they walked toward the house. Her voice came out a little shakier than she’d intended, and Cullen wound his free arm around her waist.

“You look great, by the way,” he whispered.

He’d said as much before they’d left the hotel as he’d done up the last bit of her zipper, but not before kissing his way up her neck. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you for agreeing to come to my ex-wife’s Satinalia Eve party,” Cullen said, chuckling at the ridiculousness of the words.

Mara had to admit the whole thing was just a tad ridiculous for anyone who didn’t understand, and she’d gotten her fair share of odd looks when she’d told acquaintances what they were doing in Denerim.

The front door was open, and Sera and Dagna were out in the snow, and probably up to no good. Cullen offered them a quick hello before ushering Mara inside. “Sera’s got wicked good aim, but she wouldn’t dare track snow through the house.”

Mara laughed. “So you’re saying we’re safe in here?”

“From snow at least,” Cullen smiled.

Mara brushed a few flakes of snow off the shoulders of his navy sweater, and they added their presents to the growing pile under the tree.

“I think our best bet is the kitchen,” Cullen said, leading her through the house. She wasn’t sure what it must be like for him, to be in the place that was his home, but wasn’t any longer. If he was bothered by it, he wasn’t saying.

Mara shook her head, this was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Then she was sure she could hear voices in the kitchen talking about coffee, and Cullen chuckled quietly from the doorway. “Alright, I have to ask. How exactly are you still alive? She takes her coffee very seriously.”

“You say that as if it were a bad thing?” Mara shot Cullen a playfully distrustful look, but smiled as she caught sight of Thea and Loghain in the kitchen. “Hey Thea, they cutting you off?”

“Apparently.” Thea looked more amused than truly annoyed, and Mara realized that she looked just the tiniest bit frazzled. Maybe she hadn’t been the only one a little nervous for the party? “I swear, you go through a few pots and they act as though you need a stint in rehab.”

Mara nodded while Loghain and Cullen exchanged a knowing look. “Utterly unfair.”

She hid her surprise when Thea pulled her into a hug, and thanked whatever Gods might be listening that things had never been anything but easy for her with Thea and Loghain.

“Come on.” Thea linked their arms. “I’ve been banished from the kitchen so we may as well go see if there are any other last minute tasks I can finish elsewhere-”

“Don’t you dare, woman,” came Loghain’s response. It was so automatic she had to stifle a laugh. “Mara, would you kindly see that she actually sits down? And would you care for some tea?”

Like she would be able to keep Thea from doing anything she absolutely didn’t want to do. “Please. I mean it’s not coffee, but I guess it will have to do.”

***

Cullen had spent the better part of the last hour catching up with Cassandra and Bull, but keeping an eye on Mara just in case. She had spent plenty of time with Dorian, and was now talking Varric, and he supposed he shouldn’t really be surprised. He didn’t want to have brought Mara along only to abandon her, but she was definitely holding her own.

It still astounded him how easily everyone from his life had just welcomed her in, and made her part of everything. He shouldn’t be surprised; they’d welcomed him, and Mara was a void of a lot easier to like.

Cullen thought that it might be difficult to be back in the house he’d once called home, but it wasn’t. It sort of felt like returning to his parent’s home after he’d moved out. There was some nostalgia connected to it, but it wasn’t his anymore. And maybe it never had been quite his anyway because it had always been Thea’s: she had built it before they even met. He missed the space, and was pretty sure he’d found the perfect lot to build on in South Reach. He was still waiting to hear back from his real estate agent.

Thea came over, offering him an easy smile. Her smiles were far more frequent these days, and he didn’t even have to see her often to know that. “Haven’t had much of a chance to chat, have we?”

“Not really, but I see congratulations are in order,” Cullen gave a subtle nod toward the ring on her left hand. She couldn’t have been married long, he’d only seen her a month ago and no one else had mentioned it, meaning they didn’t know. Thea was good at keeping secrets, but she wasn’t exactly hiding this. “How long? A few days?”

She studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she just shook her head with a small smile and looked at her phone.  “Let’s see… about ten hours.”

Cullen laughed then, not surprised in the least. “Not even a full day. Congratulations!” He meant it too. He was happy for her, and happy that she was so happy. There was a measure of relief there too. It wasn’t a competition, and they certainly didn’t need each other’s permission to move on with their lives, but it did feel a little bit like he was now free to take the next step with Mara. They hadn’t told anyone about their plans to move in together, and it was in some effort to be sensitive to their situation. But Thea had gone and gotten married in the morning on Satinalia Eve, and wasn’t that just fitting?

“Thank you,” Thea said. “We did not want to make a big deal out of it, or make any sort of big announcement, but neither are we terribly inclined to hide it.”

“And you shouldn’t. I’m happy for you. Every time I see you you’re even happier,” Cullen said.

He thought it might sting, knowing he’d never been able to make her quite this happy. It didn’t.

Thea made a good show of looking annoyed. “It’s ruining my damn reputation is what it is. And what about you? You know there’s a pool right?”

Cullen laughed. “And you’re trying to get insider information?”

“Now kitten,” she gave him a half smile, “That would be cheating.”

Cullen laughed. “She’s moving in. Her lease is up, and it made sense. I worried it was a little fast or that we should keep it quiet, but I think it’s a nonissue.”

Thea crossed her arms and looked slightly exasperated. “Why would you think you needed to keep that quiet?”

She had to know, had to understand. There were probably a myriad of reasons that she and Loghain hadn’t made an announcement, and he was sure that there was some concern for him tangled up in there. They were moving so carefully around each other, and Cullen wondered if that might end up doing more damage.

“I know you’ve got all your own reasons for not having announced your impromptu wedding, but can you honestly tell me that not a single one of them had to do with being sensitive to Mara and I?” Cullen asked.

She glared at him for a moment, then sighed. “You’ve got a point,” Thea replied reluctantly.

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s kind of odd isn’t it, how much we worry about wounding the other, when it’s unnecessary.”

Thea gazed out at the friends and family gathered together. “A year ago, did you think we’d ever be here?”

Cullen’s eyes fell on Mara, who was smiling and laughing with Varric, and he was pretty sure Thea’s eyes had fallen on her husband. Cullen smiled. “No, but it’s much better than anything I could have imagined.”

“Me either, but I’m so glad.” Thea touched his arm softly as she moved away from him, and over to where Loghain stood talking with Nate. Cullen wasn’t alone long; Dorian was there in a moment arms crossed.

“I understand from Mara that you’ve been in Denerim for two whole days, and I’m just now seeing you,” Dorian said.

Cullen had come to understand the indignation was Dorian’s way of expressing affection. “I wanted to show Mara the city.”

“This is her first time in Denerim?” Dorian asked, suddenly catching on.

Cullen nodded. “Yes, so don’t feel put out, we didn’t see anyone until this evening.”

“I’m going to have to come visit South Reach to get any quality time in, won’t I?” Dorian asked, sipping from his drink.

“Our spare room is always open to you,” Cullen replied.

Dorian’s mouth turned to a smirk. “‘Our’ you say? Do you have something to share?”

What the void. “We moved in together. Well, in the process anyway. There’s a few things we’re probably going to just store for the time being.”

Dorian shook his head. “You’re going to marry her?”

If he was lucky enough, he definitely was. “You’ll be the first to know.”

Dorian huffed a bit. “I better be. And Mara and I will design the invitations. You’re not invited.”

Cullen laughed. “I’ll let you bond over the typography.”

***

The snow was falling quickly and in big white clumps of flakes, as if they’d collided in the air on their way down and found themselves stuck together. Mara was glad to be staying the night and not worrying about travelling in the weather.

Their flight back to South Reach was at an ungodly hour the next morning, but for now, they were alone in the quiet fall of snow and a comfortably warm loft. Thea must have made sure the heat had been running through the evening because Mara had been very grateful for the warmth that had greeted them when they stepped inside.

They set their bags down, and Mara pushed the door closed, a few errant snowflakes finding their way in as she did. She’d just turned the lock when Cullen’s arms wound around her.

“Thank you for coming,” he whispered as he pressed a kiss to her hair.

She wrapped her arms around him. “I’m glad we came. It was good to see everyone.”

Cullen’s golden eyes blinked in surprise. “Really?”

She pushed onto her tiptoes to brush her nose against his. “Yes. They’re your family, and it’s always wonderful to see them.”

“They love you, you know,” Cullen said, words sure.

She thought of the mountains Thea had inked into her skin, and the way everyone had found time to talk to her, to make sure she felt welcome. “I know.”

“So my dragging you to Denerim was a success then?” Cullen asked.

She smiled. “Let’s come back next year.”

His kiss was his reply, lips soft but hands holding her tightly. She reached for him too, made sure he felt just as wanted as she did. Somehow she found herself loving him even more than before, for the simplicity of sharing these holiday traditions with the people he cared about. She was surprised at the ease of it too, surprised at how welcome she found herself. All of these people and all of this love, all came into her life because of him.

That was the best Satinalia gift of all.

Likes and reblogs are love!

[buttsonthebeach]

prompt: modern solas (or ellana) catching their kids taking weird filtered pics of them (im thinking it's a selfie with one of them and the daughter is using one of those dual filters)

Who wants some random, humorous, holiday fluff?? Cause you got some! My first time writing a modern AU with these characters. Happy Holidays, everyone!

Pairing: Modern AU Solavellan

Rating: Teen for one swear word, I suppose

Summary: Ashara can’t resist the urge to prank her father, even during the holidays.

*

In retrospect, Solas should have been suspicious when Ashara asked so sweetly if he would take a selfie with her. Usually her methods were far less subtle. She’d dash in front of him and shout samahl! and as he looked up she would take the picture and then dart away again, cackling. It didn’t matter how many times he told her that he didn’t enjoy taking pictures, and that he liked it even less that she posted them on whatever nonsensical social media platform she and her peers were devoted to now - she got entirely too much enjoyment out of his annoyance.

But this time it was Wintersend, and even though he was in the midst of chopping garlic and herbs, the house was warm and he could hear Ellana and Saeris in the other room, their words indistinct but their voices unmistakable, and it was sweet, wasn’t it, that his oldest daughter would come to him at that moment and say:

“Let’s take a picture together. We have to. It’s my last Wintersend before college!”

“Very well. Let me wash my hands first.”

She was nearly his height now. He didn’t have to bend down like he did when she was young and Ellana was taking pictures every chance she got. How time flew. It didn’t seem so long ago that he and Ellana sat by their warm fire and enjoyed the glow of the lights on their tree while he ran his hand over her six-months-swollen belly, willing the time to go by so he could meet his firstborn child - it certainly hadn’t been that long since she was a nine-months-old toddling thing pulling ornaments off the tree - and now she was seventeen. He let that feeling of nostalgia suffuse his smile as she pulled up the camera, got her face close to his, smiled wide, and took the picture.

“Perfect,” she said, and there was a laughing edge to her voice, which was his first giveaway.

“I didn’t get a chance to see it,” he said as she made her retreat from the kitchen, which was his second giveaway.

The biggest giveaway was the raucous laughter that came from the living room not a minute later.

For a moment he stood there and questioned if he even wanted to know. Then he sighed and followed her.

Their living room was fully decorated, tree, trimmings and all, - and still a mess of unwrapped presents and plates from Wintersend breakfast - and his wife and both of his daughters were in the middle of all of it, looking at Ashara’s phone and cackling. Saeris was actually on the floor, holding her stomach. Ellana had set down her spiced wine and was wiping tears from her eyes. And Ashara was between them, grinning like the cat who got the cream.

“What was it this time?” Solas sighed, already resigned.

“Nothing,” Ashara said, although her innocent act left much to be desired.

“I see - then nothing is what you’ll find on your plate this evening, while the rest of us enjoy our roast and root vegetables and -”

“It was Saeris’s idea,” she said at once, handing over the phone. Typical. Someday she would sell her soul for a cheeseburger or some other nonsense.

It turned out she hadn’t taken a picture at all, but a short video, showing the two of them as they posed and smiled in the kitchen - except that after an instant of them looking normal, several things appeared on top of their faces. There was a pair of antlers on top of Ashara’s head, and a small red nose laid over her own, and a scarf around her neck. He, on the other hand, appeared with a sickly green complexion and grumpy black eyes and the word GRINCH under his face.

“Really, Ashara?” He sighed.

“It was Saeris’s idea!”

“You have to admit it’s pretty funny, Papae,” Saeris said, having recovered herself at last.

“I am not a grinch. I happen to enjoy Wintersend.”

“You do look like a bit of a grinch right now,” Ellana said.

“Did you already - post this, or whatever it is you’re calling it now?”

“If I say yes, do I still get peppermint brownies after dinner?”

“No.”

“Then I absolutely, definitely, certainly did not post it.”

Saeris burst into a fresh bout of giggles, looking at her own phone - where Solas had no doubt there was an identical copy of the same video.

“I see. Well then. I suppose this grinch will return to slaving away in the kitchen all by himself.”

“We can help!”

Helping was a loose term - Ashara and Saeris spent more time stealing scraps of food than anything else, and eventually he banished them - but Ellana stayed, and when the roast was in the oven she turned him around and put his hands on his waist so they could sway to the sound of the music he could hear drifting in from the living room, overlaid with the sound of their daughters’ chatter.

“They’re kind of a pain in the ass, aren’t they?” she said.

“Yes.”

“Well, they get it from somewhere.”

He scoffed, and she kissed him anyway, and together they stayed in the warm kitchen and drank in the sights and sounds of their family and the end of another year.