#sula x thom

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coloring old dragon age sketches today

end game smooch or beginning of the next game smooch??

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hello yes i would like to request something featuring sula :)

OMG i love this thank you <3 <3 <3

i am now a lil tipsy so i had to turn to my husband and be like how do i stay on throuple theme and he reminded me that were sula not so silly and unconfident, this woulda straight up happened <3

an au that is wonderful and also i llike that i got to keep it on dancing theme too <3 <3 <3

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you know what i'm just gonna go ahead and redraw a bunch of my old inquisition (maybe da2 too) art until veilguard comes

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why the veilguard got founded she can’t be stopped

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2 or 4 for sula?

I'm gonna shake things up, make some interim codex entries for between Inquisition and Dreadwolf. Sometime during the comics and Absolution probably! :D

(Thank you for the ask! <3)

2. a letter written by your OC’s family member

A letter collected by Agents looking for more information on the Inquisitor’s weaknesses. For some reason, The Dread Wolf threw these out, and refused to engage with our tactics here. I’ve preserved what I could in case the Dread Wolf changes his mind.

My dear Kadan,

Your little one is smiling brightly these days. It pains me that you do not get to see these smiles. She does not walk yet, but she is attempting. Every day she grows stronger, and every day I can see that stubborn resolve your husband has given to her. She looks just like you did at that age, but I suspect much of her spirit is Rainier. That is what your Grandmother says too. You were gentle and sweet baby, my Ursula, always reaching for your family, wanting nothing but to be held and to hold back. Little Gwenyth is independent. Perhaps she has learned that from you as well, with how you have changed these years. 

I know your work is important. I know too that the Inquisition, though no longer, is not truly done. I simply wish that you could leave it to someone new. That you and your husband could return, stay with us in Kirkwall, or take Gwenyth back to your home, and rest. All I wish for you is rest, my Kadan. 

Your siblings have taken to protecting Kirkwall with all their heart. They follow in your footsteps. I know you always thought yourself a follower, but you have your father’s spirit. Just like your daughter does. With a smile, and warmth, you lead by example. I am proud, so proud. But it does make my heart ache. 

When you can. Come home. Grandmother is saying the old prayers for you every night. Aunt Kassaranda joins. I think I will too.

Be safe, Kadan. 

Your mother

4. a letter from your OC to their love interest

A letter collected by Agents looking for more information on the Inquisitor’s weaknesses. For some reason, The Dread Wolf threw these out, and refused to engage with our tactics here. I’ve preserved what I could in case the Dread Wolf changes his mind.

Thom,

You know I hate to send you away. You know I hate all of this. I want us to go home, back to the cottage, you, me, Jenny. But we can’t. And I know you know we can’t. I’m almost saying this more for me than you at this point. To remember–exactly what you said this morning when we said goodbye.

“For Jenny.”

I think you are worried about me. I know it’s foolish to say don’t. I worry about you too much to tell you to do any different. But I did lie this morning when we said goodbye. I’m sorry for that. I didn’t know how to say it. But you were right. The dreams are getting more frequent every day now. Whatever is coming, it’s close. We’re nearing the end of these long years of preparation, and I think the battle is on its way. That’s why I need you with the Wardens. That’s why I need to head to Tevinter. 

This section is crossed out violently. It continues afterwards in a more steady hand, though the page is stained with tears.

It hurt so much to send you away. I don’t know why, but this one feels… Like it may be the last time.

I love you, Thom. I could be not be what I need to be without you. I could not do any of this alone. I am sorry to ask so much of you, but I will remember what you said and hold it close to my heart. Please know I would fly to you if I could.

For Jenny. We’re doing all this for Jenny.

Hopefully it will all be over soon.

Love,

Sula

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Peak romance 😭

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He’s just *clenches heart*

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every time I end up drawing these guys it just makes me very happy 💖

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This is what this is all for—learn how to draw armor so I can draw battle couples better xD

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Dragon Age sketches (mostly Blackwall I miss him)

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Here I am, thinking, ah lemme repost these cute recent pics I did of Sula and Thom that’ll be fun, and I can’t see if I ever posted these before??

Anyway, sorry not sorry if I have I love them

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Boob meme with Sula

Always good to revisit my girl

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for @taterchoc (I loved this prompt!! Thank you! It was so good to write Sula and Thom again! <3)

Mariturient: eager to marry

It was never particularly… Pressing. But it was on her mind. And as much as he could tell she was desperately trying to, she was terribly bad at hiding it. In the year they’d been apart, Sula’s letters were tender and sweet, and focused primarily on the work the two of them were doing, his tour of the Marches, and her continued work towards a hopeful end for the Inquisition. But, here and there, hidden in the middle of paragraphs describing life at Skyhold, or in response to his mentioning families, and husbands and wives, there were signs… That a particular topic was occupying her mind. It made sense. Her penchant for romanticism had always had her sighing over happy endings, even if they seemed far away.

Marriage, as a concept, had habitually horrified Thom. Even for the one minute he had been married (a drunken dare, he wasn’t certain how it ended per se, but seeing as how his previous wife was happily remarried, he wasn’t going to ask too many questions on that front), even for that one minute, he had awoken the morning of in a cold sweat, and immediately attempted to escape through the window. Odette was more offended at the escape attempt really. But since he was a young man, anything that would hold him down and in place felt… Suffocating. Unattainable. Much too warm, and much too homey for the likes of him. As a young man, it was too close to the monotony his parents lived with, and he was desperate to escape from, pursuing some foolhardy quest for greatness. These days, it had just been too good, a life he didn’t deserve. He’d assumed that he’d never have to think too much about it. It was beyond him. And even to entertain it as a notion was… Well.

He’d never thought that he’d be worthy to be half as happy as Sula had made him. She assured him, time and again, that she was happy. That she had everything she could have ever wanted. And when, as the dust settled on the Winter Palace and the Inquisition had finally ended, she told him, laughing, that Cassandra had been tricked by Varric into thinking they were getting married, he did not miss the longing behind her yellow eyes, the little wistful note in “Isn’t that too funny?” 

Perhaps what he deserved did not matter in this moment. Perhaps, this could be part of the journey. Allowing themselves this one, selfish bit of happiness. 

Once the idea got a hold of him, he couldn’t let it go. And on the day, seeing her smile, wide and bright, her eyes, shining, an elation he could swiftly become addicted to being the cause of, he knew it was absolutely worth it.

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aaaaa, a quick attempt at an oc kiss week prompt! Nothing fancy, but life was busy today!

of course i had to start with sula

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last prompt for @shimmerbee !!! this one was way fun ;D

35. “Do you trust me?” Sula x Thom

“Do you trust me?” What a question. She’d asked it so often, of all her inner circle, and somehow, she’d earned the trust of all these disparate, desperate people. 

But he never asked it back. How could he, when none of these people even knew his real name? If she turned to him with her big, amber eyes, and that soft, warm smile of hers and told him that she trusted him, when he did not deserve such a gift, he’d turn himself in right then and there. 

Or so he’d like to think. But he knew better. Thom Rainier was a coward, and always had been.

All of that would be much easier to deal with if they weren’t currently absolutely and thoroughly fucked.

The damned rain in Crestwood mixed with the fog made it impossible to see outside the little hovel hidden in the hills he’d found for them. They thought that after clearing the damn place of the rift in the lake that the weather would have settled into something less supernatural, but rain was rain, and happened anyway, and was just as horrible as when it had been magically influenced. Worse yet, demons and dragons had been the least of their worries here before. Now there were bandits, and Red Templars everywhere, and in searching for Hawke’s damned contact, they’d been split from the others, and the Inquisitor injured by one of the templar bastards. Surrounded now by the templars searching for them, they were stuck, at least until help or a miracle found them. 

Blackwall turned to the Inquisitor, and sucked in a breath. She was breathing shallowly, holding back any indication of her pain, knowing that any wayward sound would have them discovered, but she looked horrible. Her gray face, normally alight with a pinkish undertone, was pale and covered in rain and sweat. She shook all over, and her eyes were glazed. The blood from their battle had washed off in the rain, but he knew her ribs, and maybe her leg were broken. And it was all his fault. He hadn’t protected her. 

He knelt before her, and without thinking much of it, put a hand to her cheek--she was burning, another turn of bad luck. She’d have a fever on top of all this, and that would be the thing to kill her first. He removed his hand, and swore under his breath. He barely noticed that she was looking at him intently now. 

“That was nice,” she said. It was such a bizarre thing to say, he wondered if the fever had already taken hold of her.

“What?” She was injured and unwell, no reason for his heart to speed up. But she offered a weak smile, and his fool stomach flipped.

“Your hand. It was nice,” she swallowed, hard, and looked away, wincing. “Oooff, can’t talk much.”

“Don’t talk at all. Rest, as much as you can,” he said, softly. Somewhere in the back of his head, the old Thom shuddered to think of the punishment he’d endure at the death of the Inquisitor, and his failure to protect her. Much more prominently though, try as he might to deny it, the fear he felt was not for his own life. 

The Inquisitor meant a lot to a lot of people. He meant what he had told her at their arrival to Skyhold. She was a symbol of hope for all the refugees and pilgrims who arrived there--himself included. As fond as he was of Sula Adaar, the sweet, awkward freckled woman, the Herald of Andraste was something to believe in--a righteous cause, protecting the innocents from a world of powerful people who did not care. But she did. 

The world would be lesser without her in it. 

He wouldn’t let her die. He couldn’t.

Blackwall took a moment to remove his gambison, soaked as it was, it was another layer to keep the chill off of her, and laid it across her. Her eyes fluttered to his for a moment, and though she was still focused on breathing through the pain, she watched him far too closely. Guilt quickly filled his heart, and he left her side to peer out the hovel, and analyze the situation. 

They hadn’t been able to run too far from the Red Templars that had overtaken their camp. The attack had surprise and overwhelming numbers as an advantage. In the midst of battle, he recalled hearing Varric wager that they were not just looking for the Inquisitor, but Hawke as well, scrounging through the hillsides of Crestwood, just as they had been, looking for the contact’s hideout. That the templars were still here had to mean that they knew the hideout was nearby, or they had seen Blackwall drag the Inquisitor somewhere around here, after the Behemoth had gotten a lucky swing at her. The others likely went back to Caer Bronach for reinforcements, and hopefully were on their way, but the Inquisitor needed help now, and more than he could offer her. But that Behemoth was still out there, with about 15 other soldiers setting up camp around the area. He could certainly try his hand at taking them all on. It would be the noble way. It would also be a dead man’s way, he could almost hear the real Blackwall laugh. 

Varric had said Hawke mentioned these hills had tunnels of some sort, bandit highways. He’d utilized similar tunnels himself to get out of binds in parts of Orlais. He glanced back towards the inside of the hovel, and considered. 

Stepping over the Inquisitor, he pressed his hands to the walls of the hovel, looking for any hollow sections, or pieces of stone or wood that could be hidden and moveable. With luck, the southern wall budged, just slightly enough. With a bit more back into it, the hidden door moved slowly back, and a pathway was revealed. He resisted the urge to cheer, focusing instead on the next task…

Moving the Inquisitor. 

Fuck. He knelt down beside her again, and she looked at him, shivering. His fingers flexed as he tried to come up with the proper way to ask, but the direness of the situation outweighed propriety. She’d understand. He hoped. “Inquisitor, there’s tunnels back there… I think I can get us out of here, but…”

“You have to carry me,” she answered, not nodding, just watching, thinking. “Do you know where it goes?”

He paused. “No. It could lead to more danger. But…”

“It’s the only way,” she looked away, taking the chance to steady herself. For a moment, she looked scared. “I won’t be much help… I might just slow you down. You could,” she steeled herself, trying to push through the pain, “You could leave me, and get help.”

That was completely unacceptable, for a thousand different reasons. Without thinking, he gruffly responded with the one question he thought he’d never ask, “Sula… Do you trust me?”

The answer should have been no, of course not. But of course, instead, her amber eyes looked up at him, and the full weight of her affection for him hit him completely. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, she smiled so fully, even through the pain, and raised a hand as high as she could to grab his arm, and squeeze. 

“Completely,” she whispered. It hurt just as much as he feared to hear it. But the moment of guilt passed quickly as she winced, holding her sides, and looking up to him once more to ask, “What do I need to do?”

He wrapped his arms around her. It was an awkward carry, with her being so tall, and there was no way around her injuries. She swallowed down a yelp, burying her face into the crook of his neck to try and keep silent. It was likely unwise to move her at all, but there was no way that the templars wouldn’t find this hovel soon. As quickly as he could, they were through the door, and swiftly surrounded by darkness. There was only one path ahead, and the walls were narrow enough that he had to walk them sideways. 

Coupled with the darkness, the silence was nearly overwhelming. So he whispered, gently, to soothe and distract her from her body tensing and spasming in his arms. He couldn’t quite think of what to say, so he just said the first thing that came to his mind. 

An old Thom Rainier story. Internally, he cringed, hoping that she wouldn’t be able to decipher anything from it, but how could she? She’d never heard of Thom Rainier before. 

“You know, this reminds me of a mission I was on once… Not quite the Deep Roads, but low hanging caves like this. Felt like the whole ceiling would fall on you.”

She didn’t say much in response, too much in pain, too focused, but he knew she was listening, as she nuzzled closer into him. It was almost intoxicating, to think of better times, and holding her this way, in a better situation. But luckily, there was too much to think about to be distracted by that. 

“Some bastard had asked us to go down there and check it out, and suddenly, we realize the lake all around us is oil, and whatever lives down there didn’t want us down there, and it’s ablaze.”

She stirred, and he tried to adjust her in his arms, fatigue starting to take him. Damn, he could have done this easily when he was younger. “Darkspawn?” she said, and for a moment, he thought he misheard, lost in the story as he was. 

“Er, yeah, probably. Didn’t realize how smart the bastards could be back then,” Blackwall almost thought to stop the story completely, but he laughed, remembering the punchline he’d always matched with it. 

She wouldn’t suspect. It was nothing. And Wardens… Some were paid for their deeds. “We went back to the arsehole who sent us down there and demanded hazard pay.” 

It was dark, but he could feel her smiling against his neck. “You think Cassandra would go for that?”

He barked out a laugh, and they both stilled for a moment, waiting in the dark to make sure no one else heard. But they were alone, and tittered quietly as he moved them further still. 

“Best go through Lady Josephine,” he winked, despite knowing there was no need. She couldn’t see him. “She seems the understanding sort.”

They went on like this for awhile, until he spotted light ahead, and heard voices. He paused, bending down to lay her on the ground and prepare to fight, until the voice made himself known.

“Oh thank the Maker, you both scared me half to death! And you made me go through this blasted cave!” Varric shouted, rushing to their side, joined by Solas, and a healer from Caer Bronach. Blackwall leaned back against the wall, exhausted, but relieved to see them. 

Solas and the healer made short work of Sula, magic attending to her broken bones in a way the small amount of field medicine Thom remembered would never be able to achieve. Her own exhaustion quickly put her to sleep, and when it was time to leave the tunnel, Blackwall carried her again, despite Varric and Solas’s protestations. He was really the only one who could carry her. And, perhaps, he didn’t really want to let her go. 

“You did great work rescuing her like that,” Varric said with a wink, as they settled at their new, safer camp. “Real knight in shining armor moment for you there, Hero.”

He didn’t feel it. It was his fault she’d been injured in the first place. How much more trust could she put in him that he would betray? 

He nodded with a tired smile, and retreated to his tent, eager to sleep. Almost tauntingly, he dreamt only of being the hero she thought him to be.

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and for fun, sula x thom

# 20 Where you didn’t know they were your soulmate until you hear them say your name

From an early age, Sula Adaar had been smitten with the thought of finding her true love. Her mother patiently explained that a soul mate was not necessarily romantic love, just the person for whom you cannot live without, and you would know them the moment you heard them say your name. It didn’t matter. She knew from the stories and books her parents let her indulge in that her soul mate would be a just, wondrous knight, who would sweep her off her feet, and whisk her to the romance she always had dreamed of.

She searched her whole life for her soul mate. Even if that fated spark never occurred, she pursued her few romances diligently, hoping against hope that perhaps it was metaphorical, or subtle, or something you just had to believe hard enough in.

The reality knocked the air out of her. It was such an ordinary moment in what had become an extraordinary life so quickly. She’d asked the Warden to join the Inquisition, and after a moment’s hesitation, he’d agreed.

With a big smile, she clapped his shoulder. “Glad to have you aboard, Blackwall! My name is Sula. Adaar. Sula Adaar.” She laughed at her own rambling, rolling her eyes. Recruiting was not easy for her.

But he had nice eyes, she thought, as they crinkled into a small smile, “Sula. That’s a lovely name.”

Her heart was beating a bit faster. Her head felt a bit light, but she supposed that was from the fight they had just had before recruiting him. How many people made her heart beat faster and her head light—it was embarrassing more than life changing. “Oh… it’s nothing. Short for Ursula, is all. But please don’t call me that.”

“Ursula? That’s also lovely, but Sula suits you much better,” he chuckled.

She was lost. Like a burst of sunshine, everything settled in her, a sort of peace she’d never known she could feel. It was so much more than the fleeting hopes she’d chased—it was comfort, it was safety, it was home. Home she’d never known, and always had been running to, but there it was, in the soft gleam of his blue eyes.

When he said they couldn’t be together, it was like drowning in ice. Everything burned a cool fury, but she tried to respect his wishes, tried to understand how the sweet dream she’d always chased could end this way. But that was how it had to be. So, she would press on. She’d never known home before, surely she could live without it now. He’d still be there, a steadfast companion, brightening her days and warming her soul with her smiles, even if they were not for her. That would have to be enough. It had to.

He’d always liked the idea, and disliked the idea. The wild young man he’d been hated the idea of being tied down. No one could know his soul better than he did. He was singular, heroic, magnificent—or he would be, soon. But in the lonely dark hours where he proved that he wasn’t any of those things he dreamed of, when a summer evening took on an unnatural chill, and the night was devoid of stars, he thought how wonderful it would be to have anyone, just one person, who did know him. Who understood him. Who could help him make sense of the mess he’d made of himself.

Those dark moments continued to grow worse, as Thom became Blackwall, and he knew for certain that whatever poor soul was out there for him, he did not deserve them, and they did not deserve the pain of knowing him.

When the Inquisitor told him what she felt, his heart broke for her. Sula was too good, too important, too kind to have to be saddled with the evils he’d done. So he tried, best as he could, to fight fate. Gently, kindly, but firm.

After all, he didn’t know if she was his soulmate. Perhaps it had been just a mistake. She spoke often of her yearning to find love. He hoped against hope that he was just another mistake, that he would not hurt her further by reciprocating.

(Though, soulmate or not, he found himself loving her more and more each day. Until, weak, selfish, and hopeless, he gave in to loving her.)

He’d prayed that he’d never see the day she’d say his name.

But he was a man whose prayers deserved to be unanswered. 

“Who… is Thom Rainier?” The certainty that filled his heart made his knees weak, and his hands shake. It took all he had to stay standing, but Maker, he could not look at her. Not when he knew that all that she was, and she knew him. It was a guiding light reaching through him to her, to hold her, breathe in her scent and succumb to a calmness he should not get to have. 

He swallowed hard, and answered her the best he could. Her last question though left his mouth dry. He could not speak.

“Do you know now? What I feel? Or was it just me?”

He turned away from her, and sunk to the floor. Desperation had not reached her voice, but the choked, aching sound she made before she left should have killed him. 

He wished it had killed him.

The trial was a battle of soul. She determined to save his, him determined to sever theirs if he had to. He tried to be cruel, he tried to show her the corruption she had brought to the inquisition just by saving him. She just stood there, dressed in the makings of holiness, and he scoffed at that too. But her eyes were too kind, too gentle, and her gaze too firm. She won, mercifully. It was more than he deserved, but she still held his gaze, refusing to look away. Refusing to let their connection go.

And so, aching with the need to be near her, to reach out and touch what his own soul longed for, he hazarded a step up the throne to her.

“And… what of us? I lied about who I was, but not about what I felt. Whatever I was before, now I am just a man with his heart laid bare. I leave it in your hands.”

“You we’re ready to die, but I wasn’t ready to let you go… your place is here, by my side,” she was breathless, the cool calm veneer of authority slipping fast, her golden eyes gleaming.

“I… I don’t know how to be with you as Thom Rainier.”

Without even thinking she’d bridged the gap. She was smiling now, reaching out to him. He wondered if it was sacrilege or pride that dolled her up as Andraste, but as she stepped closer, he felt for a moment he could believe that Andraste’s holy light really did shine through her. That, or he just loved her far too much.

“We’ll figure it out,” she whispered, unable to keep herself from touching him.

“Together,” he whispered back, and when she kissed him, in front of the Maker and all of his creations, without question or pause, he felt his soul alight anew, and felt for the first time in his life that perhaps he was truly known.