#thanks tabris for helping me

[ddisco]

dreams

adventure time / twin peaks: the return / omori / yume nikki / homestuck / twin peaks / night in the woods / paprika / gravity falls / eraserhead

[inquisimer]

How about “ why is it so difficult for you to believe that you deserve to be protected? " for Tabris/Zevran

ty for the prompt Jacs!! some angst for @dadrunkwriting

wc: 602

-

Ariya sat on the floor of Valendrian's painfully empty apartment, determinedly failing to wrap a bandage around her dominant hand. Her off hand was dexterous enough with a dagger--it shouldn't be any harder to tie off a bandage. But it slipped through her fingers anyway, and a frustrated sigh through her gritted teeth.

The door creaked open, briefly shattering the suffocation of her self-imposed solitude. When it thudded shut, Zevran's fingers had replaced hers and deftly cinched the bandage around her knuckles. Ariya looked away as the heat of shame flooded her face.

"I just about had it," she muttered.

Zevran brushed a kiss over his handiwork, then tipped her face back toward his with a knuckle on her chin.

"I know," he said simply, allowing her that lie. "But you know I would not see your suffering extended if I could end it a moment sooner."

"That's better than I deserve." Ariya made to pull her hand from his, but Zevran tightened his grip and frowned.

"It's not."

Ariya sighed. Not this again. "We should--"

"There is an entire community out there that has their lives thanks to you."

"And just as many who don't!" Ariya snapped. She gestured angrily around Valendrian's cabin. "Our hahren is gone, along with Maker knows how many others. Taken, killed, enslaved--because I didn't get here sooner. I don't even know who's missing, because it gives me an excuse to be a coward who can't look at their families and apologize."

She yanked her hand away from Zevran and began packing away the medicine kit with harsh, jerky movements. He, of all people, was in no place to fight her on this. "I just--we need to go. Eamon is waiting."

"He can wait a moment longer." Zevran caught her by the shoulders, hands still warm from the sun outside. It seeped through the fabric gabs in her leathers as he slid them up to cup her face. "Why should the pain they suffered at the fault of another mean that you do not deserve help? It was not your doing."

"Wasn't it? I could have come here first. I should have come here first," Ariya bit out, "shem politics be damned. How many more could I have saved--"

Her voice broke and the tension that held her stiff fled with it; she let Zevran crush her against his chest.

"Not enough to satisfy you, I think," he murmured.

That was true, of course. Ariya pulled away from his gentle comforts, wiping at the corners of her eyes.

"And now I'm going to leave again. Walk away to deal with more noble shem problems when the people who need me are here." She clenched her uninjured fist. "How many more will suffer--how many more will die--because of that?"

She slung the med pack over her shoulder, just another weight atop the responsibilities she'd acquired over the past year. They bowed her back, and yet what choice did she have? The world, and time, and the Blight pressed on.

Zevran tailed her to the door, putting a hand on the latch before she could open it.

"That might weigh heavy on your heart," he said quietly, "but you should not punish yourself for failing to bear a burden you could not have known about."

Ariya's smile was brittle. She knew what he meant--but knowing, and accepting it, feeling it in her heart...those were separate things.

It was her injured fist that she clenched this time, around the strap of the med pack. The broken skin pulled painfully around her knuckles and her guilty conscience.

"Let's go," she said.

[rosella-writes]

and here's the thing, I was looking at the prompt list and I was like but what if. what if I also sent one for Loghain & Tabris uwu

❛ you’re not getting rid of me that easily.❜

>:] thank you beloved. For @dadrunkwriting

Rating: T Words: 617

~~~

The Warden was naught but a girl, but she carried a familiar sense of indignant rage — it did not help matters that she still wore her hair in two braids, pinned at the nape of her neck, as the ladies in Denerim did. The rage — and the blonde wisps of hair coming free of her plaits — was as familiar to Loghain as the back of his own hand. 

But he blinked, and the remembrance of his own daughter was gone. 

Rosalie Tabris still paced before the fire. She had not removed the armour she’d met Riordan in, and it was stained with an echo of blood in its seams from her encounter with Loghain’s second in command. Loghain doubted that the rusty red would ever come out. 

“You heard the man,” Loghain grumbled. He turned his gaze towards the hilt of his sword, and picked at the leather wrapping it until it swung from his hip. “He plans to take the fall, but if he fails —”

“He won’t fail,” Rosalie snapped. 

“If he fails,” Loghain repeated, and he heard the same tone in his voice as he’d used in conference with Cailan, “we must be prepared. It must be one of us. Better that I make the final blow, if I am to be any further use to Ferelden.”

The fire crackled on the grate. Rosalie’s pacing resumed, and her boots clicked on the stones. “I could leave you at the gate. Guard my retreat, prevent them from following and cutting us off. That’s how your mind works, right? You’ve got it full of military strategies and —”

“No,” Loghain sighed. 

Rosalie halted in her tracks and glared at him through lividly gold elfin eyes that reflected the fire near her feet. “You’ll do as I say.”

He felt a sad smile crease his craggy face. “You will not be rid of me so easily.”

Rosalie’s jaw tightened. Her ears flicked back, one at a time, with the force of her anger.

“We will remain at one another’s backs,” he insisted. “I am surprised at you. You should know better than to give me a chance to repeat the same tactic I used at Ostagar.”

Her expression did not change, but the droop of her ears still betrayed her. “I had hoped,” she finally grumbled, “that you would, in fact, quit this particular field. It would be utter folly to kill off all Fereldan Wardens in one fell swoop.”

Loghain shook his head tiredly — his braids brushed his shoulders with the motion. He closed the distance between himself and the Warden with a few loping strides, then took up her hand with awkward hesitance. She turned that hand into a fist between his palms, but she did not jerk it away. 

“Against all odds,” he muttered, “I have grown fond of you. You are a better friend than I ever thought to find, and all despite the harm I have done to you and your family. Let me give you this.”

Rosalie’s glare was scorching, but her eyes were no longer hard mirrors of flame. They instead were oddly glossy and wet as they stared up at him from beneath furrowed brows. He gave her hand a quick shake of emphasis as he went on. 

“Think of your bard. Think of the flowers you have yet to give her. Think of the songs she has yet to sing to you. I would not deprive you of them, not when I have so little life of my own worth living.”

Rosalie finally lowered her gaze and clenched her eyes shut — two tracks of tears fell down her cheeks, cutting through the dust upon them like rivulets of melting snow.

[shivunin]

In the Quiet Dark

Zevran/Arianwen Tabris | 1,633 Words | M | CW: Mild/implied sexual content

I originally started writing this to go with this piece I commissioned from pinayelf (thank you again!) but I did not finish it in time to post them together. It may be a little late, but here they are in all their messy, sharp glory c:

Zevran sat on the other side of the campfire from Arianwen. 

She knew this without looking, just as she had known approximately where he was all day. It had been a traveling day, uneventful, and they’d made their way through the Brecilian’s outskirts with little trouble. This annoyed her almost as much as her new awareness of Zevran did, for she would have dearly loved the distraction of a fight.

Instead, she…itched. 

Nowhere in particular. Under her skin, perhaps; she did not know. She knew only that she had gone a very long time untouched and uncaring and now she could feel every inch of her skin where he was presently not in contact with it. There had been some barrier, perhaps, some veneer that had kept her from noticing such things. Now, she could not stop feeling the precise distance between them. Every scuff of his boots grated against her skin, every laugh felt pressed directly into her eardrums, and whenever she caught his eyes—

“Are you alright?” Alistair murmured next to her. Tabris dropped her fork, grimacing, and set the plate aside. It clattered in indignation against a loose rock and fell silent sooner than she would have liked. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve been scraping your fork against the plate there for minutes on end. Just thought I’d—don’t give me that look! I’m only asking.”

Arianwen stopped glaring at him and glared at the fire instead, which was a poor replacement for looking across it at Zevran. 

All sorts of people lay together all the time and still the world went on turning. It was nothing; ought to be nothing important. She certainly shouldn’t feel any different than she had when she’d woken up yesterday. Wen ran sharp nails over her forearm, but it made little difference; this wasn’t that sort of itch. 

“Ugh,” she said, slinging her leg over the other side of the log and walking away without any more farewell than that. She didn’t have the words; had left them all behind in Zevran’s tent the night before, it would seem. 

Her own tent was dark and cool, a welcome contrast to the fire outside. When the flap of fabric fell closed behind her, Wen pulled the tie loose from her braid and combed the plait to loose waves with harsh fingers. Disarming took some time, her knife belt set less neatly in its place than usual, the knives in her boots cast aside with an equal lack of care. Her armor fell into a dark corner readily enough when she was done. She retrieved her final dagger from it the moment before it thudded against the bottom of her tent. Wen tucked the scabbard into her waistband and loosened the ties of her tunic, as if doing so would help her breathe more easily. 

She had just cleared her plate, but she was hungry. She needed to run, to climb, to fight. She wanted blood, the thrill of battle, wanted to bite into—

“Warden?’ 

Wen hissed between her teeth before she could stop herself, the exhale of relief whistling and sharp instead of the soft thing she supposed it ought to be. 

“You seemed as if you may want company,” Zevran said, his voice low. “Do you?”

“Yes,” she said, short and clipped. 

Firelight painted her tent with fingers of gold and red when he ducked inside, but when the fabric fell again the two of them were left in near-complete darkness. 

Touch me, she thought, and leave. Her hands flexed until they ached, then curled into fists at her sides. 

“Why did you come?” she asked him. 

The words felt almost detached from her, for they were nowhere near the things she wanted to say instead. 

A pause. She could almost feel him weighing his answer.

“Because,” he said at last, the words very slow, “I wanted to.”

She didn’t see him move, but she felt his callused fingertips when they trailed along her forearm. For a moment, she thought she might cry out at even so little contact. All day, she had been thinking of this and now—it was like an itch. She had been scratching at the absence of him all day and now she had finally dug her nails in deep enough to find relief, but too deeply for it not to hurt a little.

Arianwen pressed her hand over his, deepening the contact and stopping the gentle motion at once. 

“Then stay,” she said. 

When she breathed in, the air was sharp and too much. She wanted; she wanted far more than was safe. Knowing that she could have this almost made it worse—because who was she, to want to be touched? Who was she, that she couldn’t stand knowing she’d already forgotten the way his bare skin felt under her hands, the precise texture of his hair—who was she? She did not know. 

A stranger, she thought. 

“If you’d like,” she finished, because even now she would not say please, and he laughed somewhere before her in the dark. 

“Yes, I think I would,” Zevran said. When he touched her hair, he was gentler with it than she’d been, the touch a caress instead of a rebuke.

“I have never seen it loose before,” he murmured. 

His breath skimmed her cheek–too close. Not close enough. 

“You still haven’t.”

“I did for a moment—in the light,” he told her. Wen let go of his other hand and he found her jaw with it instead. His palms were warm and rough and perfect. She vowed never to tell him so and pressed her cheek against his hand instead.

“How lovely you are, mi vida,” he went on. 

His lips pressed against her ear, moving so slightly that she almost didn’t feel it at all. Wen reached between them and found the leather tie in his own hair. It came loose with little effort, but the tug it took to free his braids seemed somehow momentous. She had half-undressed him last night, but she had been too distracted then to think of doing this. It felt…intimate, somehow, as Zevran seeing her hair unbound had felt intimate. 

“More,” she said, and he laughed again. 

When he answered her, he murmured directly into her ear. 

“More flattery? I am sure that I can think of a few such things to say, my dearest Warden, but I did not think you were the t—”

“No,” she said, impatient. When she turned them both and tripped him onto her bedroll, he fell so easily that he must have done so on purpose. Arianwen did not care. She cared only that she could finally feel him pressed against her at last. A relief, though it was relief that did not lessen the need at all. 

“More,” she told him again, and caught his laughter on her tongue when she pressed her mouth to his. Zevran felt just as good as she remembered—better, perhaps, because she had already begun to doubt her own memory. He moved with her whenever she shifted, tilting his head when she angled hers, tucking his fingers beneath her collar when her fingers trailed across his cheekbone. 

“Impatient,” he murmured when she abandoned his mouth in favor of his neck, his voice low and breathless. Wen grunted in response and nipped at the warm skin there. His pulse thrummed against her mouth, frantic as her own heartbeat and twice as precious. She traced the skin with her tongue when she was finished, soothing the small hurt she’d set against his skin.

“Perhaps I am impatient, too,” he said. She did not know how he had grown so skilled at kissing her in the dark when he had only a night’s practice at it. She hovered on a dagger’s edge, much as she had the night before; unlike the night before, she knew she would not run from this. When it was almost too much to bear, she twisted a lock of his hair between her fingers and found herself anchored again. 

Zevran’s hand slipped lower, lower down her back. The knife she’d tucked behind her shifted slightly. 

“You should be more careful,” he said between kisses. “Leaving your blades where anybody can find them. Someone dangerous could take it, yes?”

Wen nudged his nose with hers, searching in the dark for what little she could see of his face. The faint light flashed in his eyes, there and gone in a heartbeat. 

“But not you,” she said. 

After a moment, he squeezed her hip. His hand slid away from the knife, tracing the length of her spine instead.

“Not me, no,” he agreed. She could feel his voice now as much as she had felt him not touching her earlier. She wanted his words and wanted them to stop in equal measure, but silence was the easy choice. It had always been kinder to her. 

Wen leaned forward to kiss him again. If she shut her eyes very tightly, she could feel his body wherever it touched hers, could focus more completely on his hair wrapped around her fingers, on his fingernails where they dragged lightly against the base of her skull. 

If she had left them open, she might have seen the way he looked at her all the while—might have known that he watched her as intently as she had not watched him before. 

In fact—she did not think of her dagger at all.

But this was not something she was ready to see. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut as tight as they could go.

Zevran rolled her onto her back several minutes later, the motion as natural and obvious as the moon rising somewhere outside her tent. When he set her dagger to the side, Arianwen neither lifted it from the blanket nor drew it from its sheath. 

[fiharri]

Happy Friday! For DADWC, how about "I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate." for Anders and your Warden?

Oooh yes… Going to use Fiharri for this — a Tabris rogue who uses she/her.

The Blight comes for everyone. Every warden, that is. Fiharri can feel it growing in her veins as the years go by, as it becomes harder and harder to hide from Morrigan. Morrigan wants to fix it. She doesn't know how — even with Kieran at her side, she doesn't understand it. Can't understand the way Fiharri wakes in the night hearing the call from below the Earth. Come down, down, down.

Anders has been AWOL since Kirkwall. She knows this. She's been technically AWOL since the end of the business with the Architect. Fiharri doesn't want to be pulled into politics, she wants a quiet life with her wife and son and to not constantly hear the echoing song of the Deep Roads.

Anders was one of her best students. But she's always been a shit teacher. She found him between camps of mages, pulling a cloak around to hide his face. She knows he feels it too. It's been nearly ten years since he took the oath.

"Andraste's tits, Fiharri?"

"It's good to see you, Anders." She smiles at him.

"The world must be ending if you're smiling like that." The haggard mage pulls her into a warm hug, and she can feel how skinny he is. At least in Circle life he had three square meals a day. She regrets that she is part of why he ended up the way he is. He would've left the Circle anyways, she knows.

"Only for us grey wardens," she responds and tugs a few of her curls from her face.

"It's about the Blight, then."

"The real one is over, thank the gods." She never swears by the Maker, not deliberately, but by a more vague set of gods. The elven gods? She wasn't even sure she believed in them when she was with her Dalish family. "But yes."

"There's a lot going on. More than the Blight. This is bigger than you or me."

"Anders." Fiharri looks him in the eye. "I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate."

"It's because you were infected before Joining, isn't it?"

Fiharri has suspected the same thing for some time now. Those months of pulsing grey veins hidden behind sleeves and what little face powder they could get. She was marked for death long before Duncan showed his face.

"I need your help. You're the only person I know who's a healer, a warden, and who I trust."

"It's not like I've got the cure for the Blight in my pack. If I had it, you'd be first on my list, honest."

"I'm asking you to come with me. There are parts of the Deep Roads that haven't been explored…out in the Wilds."

Anders stares into space for a few moments, and he says, "I don't know."

"That's okay." Fiharri wishes it didn't feel so bitter to say, even if she means it. "But we're both stuck with this. I need an answer before I go."

"I'll give you one. You can stay as long as you like."

"No I can't, but I'll stay for a bit anyways."

When Fiharri steps out of Anders' tent, he can see the lines of Blight peeking over the edge of her armor. He wonders if he has the same.

[anebarone]

'Date Pies' masterpost 🌹

'Date Pies' is a beloved Dragon Age fic and project I started in 2021. I never turned it into something like an art masterpost and thought it might me fun!

Do you recognize some characters? Can you guess what happens in the story from those images? (especially the Dog-Teagan scene? 💀)

I took a lot of creative liberties, but it was immensely fun to further indulge in DA lore and to fill-in some vague or empty spaces with my headcanons and costume + character designs.

It's a Dragon Age Origins fic with a Kallian Tabris (the city elf) romancing Bann Teagan.

AO3 fic cw: Typical DA violence, blood, gets smutty in the last chapter (of course it does!)

Dragon Age art tag has misc DA stuff, from other friends' and clients' OCs + canon characters + more Kallian and Teagan sketches. Reblogs are appreciated if you'd like to shop around and find individual art posts you enjoy — no pressure, though!

Also a big big thank you to @shanaraharlyah for helping SO SO MUCH in inspiring me, motivation, AND revising the fic (and being a dear friend overall!!!). She has her own fics and artworks in the DA universe — including a beautiful, compassionate and strong Surana — and I recommend her and her blog to anyone in the fandom ♥ 🌿

[breninarthur]

rain - thalia trevelyan & kallian tabris

thalia gets lost in the rain, kallian finds her. a platonic kiss for @nirikeehan & oc kiss week 🥰 i hope i did your girl justice!

rated g, no warnings. 967 words. divider credit.

The Hero of Ferelden sat on a stool not too far from the bed, her elbow propped up casually on the dresser next to her, and sitting in a manner Thalia knew her teachers would call “unladylike” until they were blue in the face.

She was everything Thalia could have imagined and more.

“Thank you so much for rescuing me, Warden-Commander Tabris,” she stammered, aiming for a calm air of quiet respect that she was most certainly not achieving.

The Hero had found her in the torrential rain, soaked to the bone and utterly lost. Thalia had been all but carried to a small, modest cottage; had clean clothes and woolly blankets thrown at her; and a warming bowl of stew plonked into her hands with barely a word said. It wasn’t until she’d said that the Inquisition would be grateful for the help that the Warden had said who she was, a little surprised herself that the wet cat she'd rescued had been Inquisitor Trevelyan.

That was when Thalia had frozen, mentally stumbling over the information over and over in her head.

“Oh don’t worry about it.” The Hero waved her hand, oblivious. “What were you doing out here on your own, anyway?”

Ah. The crux of the matter. Thalia felt some warmth return to her cheeks.

“I… got separated from my party,” she answered cautiously, quickly running through what next she could say. Leliana’s warnings about what type of person the Hero was were difficult to heed when the real thing was right in front of her. “We were looking for you.”

Warden-Commander Tabris stared, her face easily betraying all the emotions those words brought up for her. Her eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise at first. Then, her jaw clenched, her brow furrowed, and she frowned. Thalia’s heart hammered against her chest as hard as the rain outside, and she thought that perhaps she should have listened to Leliana after all.

“Didn’t you get my letter? That schematic I sent you?”

The Hero of Ferelden was annoyed.

“Y-yes, and we are incredibly grateful, it’s just that—”

“I don’t know anything about Corypheus. I cannot help you.”

Thalia had annoyed the Hero of Ferelden.

“Of course, Warden-Commander, I… apologise, I merely wished to—”

“You don’t think I’ve given enough?” The Hero of Ferelden snapped.

“Yes! You have! I’m sorry, I just… I don’t know what I’m doing,” Thalia blurted out, her eyes quickly stinging, her bottom lip trembling. Before she knew it, the tears were spilling over, and she was cursing her lack of composure and blaming the rain that had nearly given her pneumonia.

Warden-Commander Tabris straightened in her seat, the anger draining from her face and instantly being replaced with guilt.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, but it only served to make Thalia feel worse somehow as she openly sobbed. She wiped her eyes and cheeks as best she could, trying to breathe slowly and calm herself, but it just wouldn’t work.

“I'm sorry, Warden-Commander,” she sniffled.

Silently, the Hero rose and sat next to her, the old bed creaking loudly. 

“My name’s Kallian. And you don’t have to apologise.” 

Thalia’s eyes widened as Kallian put an arm around her, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly.

“I’m just old and bitter,” the Warden muttered. “It’s taken longer than I expected to find what I’m looking for and I took it out on you. Forgive me, Inquisitor.”

“My name is Thalia,” she smiled wetly, turning to face Kalllian. “And please, you saved the world. You’re a Grey Warden, the Grey Warden… I think you’ve earned the right to be…”

“Selfish? Rude? A prick?”

Thalia laughed, the tension in her shoulders fading away as Kallian grinned at her.

“Besides,” she continued. “You’re saving the world too, aren’t you? That’s what I heard, anyway. I think you’re doing just fine.”

“I have so many people behind me. Really, I’m just a figurehead,” Thalia insisted, shaking her head self-deprecatingly.

“What, and you think I took down hordes of darkspawn and the Archdemon itself all on my own?” Kallian asked, raising an eyebrow. “I had the King, an Antivan Crow, a witch, an ancient golem, your Spymaster, the Arishok, a Senior Enchanter, a dwarven warrior, and the best war hound in all of Ferelden at my side pretty much every step of the way. And that’s not to mention the armies of mages, and dwarves, the Denerim fighting for their lives… honestly, it would take hours to list everyone who helped me. And I couldn’t have done it without them, not a chance.”

“...Did you say the Arishok?”

“Yeah, but my point is… I am not the singular Hero. I never was. And I’ll let you in on a secret, Thalia.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I had no idea what I was doing either.”

It drew another little laugh from Thalia, and she felt warm from more than just the fire in the corner of the room.

“C’mere,” Kallian chuckled, pulling her into a firm hug. “You’re doing great.”

Thalia relaxed into it, lifting her arms to return the embrace. For someone so strong and large in reputation, Kallian was small, and it felt more like hugging a big sister than a living legend.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her hands tightening a little as she was filled with emotion again. But it was different this time, and she let herself close her eyes and just be held.

“Right!” Kallian interrupted the moment, roughly planting a kiss on the side of her head before pulling away. “Rest up. I’ll take you back to your camp in the morning, and I’ll keep an eye out for anything that could help you.”

“Thank you, Warden— Kallian,” she smiled.

It was good to know that the Hero lived up to her name.

[nadas-dirthalen]

Hey friend! Can’t wait to play veilguard 💕 I have my Rook all planned out. She’s going to be very spicy and romancing the pants off a sexy Crow.

All of my DA characters have started off sassy and end up softened by the world, as opposed to hardened. My warden, for example was a spoiled, pampered noble who lost everything but learned what she was really made of over the course of her adventures. Seeing people suffering, feeling the powerlessness at her inability to help everyone she comes across, it makes her kinder. Because while she cannot solve the world’s problems, she does not need to add to the misery by being cruel.

Also turns out all she ever wanted was to be loved for the imperfect, sassy brat she is. And she finds that with Alistair.

At least she has so far, haven’t finished the game yet but my god Leliana and Z are really fighting Ali for her attention 😹

Already planning separate play throughs for them both!

Hiiii, new friend!! I'm so happy to see someone also excited for Veilguard! I'm also fairly certain on the Lucanismance - but I honestly think I will be romancing every companion at LEAST once, which is a first in RPGs for me! I've never genuinely wanted to romance every single one before!

Oh, that's so cool! I've always been interested to hear more about the Cousland origin. But my Tabris went through a lot of the same - except she started very against helping anyone else in the world, due to her origins as an elf, and found worth in her companions that persuaded her to step up to the role of leader of the party (and savior of the world, but, yknow, lol). I try and let one singular word guide my characters' choices when I myself don't know what they would chose, and my Tabris' word was freedom. It's what guided her choices in the Landsmeet (which made me cry lol) and also at the end of the game (which made me cry even more!)

I'm so glad you'll be doing multiple Origins runs! It is TRULY a great game, and in my opinion an excellent thing to be doing right before Veilguard, because I feel like so much of Origins' core story (not our specific choices, but the premise) is going to be super relevant in Veilguard.

Thanks for reaching out!!! Lemme know when you finish Origins, I'm curious about your thoughts! <3

[cloverlings]

I imagine having an Absol can be quite interesting, I've heard that they have sixth sense for danger and a desire to help. Is there any truth to that? If so, has it been an issue in any way? Has Tabris dragged you off on an unwilling adventure or two, for example?

@preschool-teacher-silas

Hello ! Thank you for the ask : )

It is very true That they can sense danger, and Tabris loves to help me and others ... It hasn't really been an issue in recent memory , But there have been a few times while hiking, she would try to lead me off the trail, usually because she sensed a young Starly had fallen out of its nest, or a tree that was on the trail was going to fall (which I found out afterward after trying to take the trail back). She does absolutely love helping so often when I Am cooking I will let her sit next to me and Watch, like she is "helping" me. She does help remind me of things because I am Very forgetful , and of course alerts me when a bad Storm might be coming through. Having an Absol is Very interesting but I love Tabris very much!!

[risingsh0t]

for the initial asks: f or e?

hehe thank you shell!! 💖

faye chapel: star trek. she's a xenobiologist and the younger sister of canon character, christine. always feels like she's in her successful sister's shadow and that's caused a huge rift between them... made even larger by the fact that faye decided to join the discovery crew when they permanently jumped ~900 years into the future. she struggles with coming to terms with her decision.

fitz: he was literally born like 2 days ago LMAO, so still a wip! dbd again <3 an android historian from the future. he's on the run from his creator, but ends up in the realm thanks to him.

elodie tabris: my dao warden. she's fiesty, she's full of guilt. everyone in the party helps her better comes to terms with who she is and what she's fighting for. and ofc she survives. she gets a happy ending with zev, so help me god.

estella hawthorne: my captain from the outer worlds. she's very charming, but also very goofy. she was previously a hacker, so it's still pretty new for her to be a leader and the Face of something. but she discovers she's kinda good at it.

[quitefair]

2, 3, 9, 16 for dragon age asks

Thank you Shy! 2 answered here!

3. Do you usually play as a warrior, mage, or rogue? Which class are you planning to try first this time around? Which subclass?

I've got a full set with the first three games; my Warden Tabris is a two-handed warrior, my Hawke is a mage and my Inquisitor is a rogue archer.

My Rook, who I've only recently pulled out of a dusty corner shelf, was always a mage. An ice-mage in particular, but looking at the skill trees and revising her backstory a little, it looks like she'll probably be dabbling in necromancy. Unless I can get her to be a pure ice queen.

Although I have been obsessed with what I now know are the Veil Jumpers and their fancy fuckin Rift-magic bows. These ones:

Who knows. I may make yet another Qunari Archer with Fade Magic. I have a type and I can't help it.

9. Which romance, if any, do you plan to pursue first?

In all honesty, despite the fact that I am so fucking AWOOGA over Taash, I'm probably going to go in blind and see what happens. I'm focusing more on who my Rook is going to be first, rather than fashion a character just to romance somebody.

That's what I did with Tashak, she wasn't even supposed to romance anybody, and I played my first full run with no romance. But then, she accidentally triggered the Josephine romance and I had to reject her.

Both me and Tashak after that were like. Oh. Ouch. That hurt. Why did that hurt.

(And then I realised later that yeah. There's something there.)

Anyway, Rohaan is going to focus on her job first before looking at who she's going to smooch. A career-oriented woman, that one.

16. What’s one crack theory you subscribe to (yours or someone else’s)?

Sandal Feddic is either a powerful spirit, or a god. But more importantly, he is autistic. :)

[secret-third-thing]

Get to know me game!

Thanks for the tag @born-to-riot, @sunshinebingo, @acourtofladydeath, @ofduskanddreams, @eudaimonia83, and @leafsandstarlight!!!

Top three ships: ....okay im going to be completely honest here... I do not consider myself much of a shipper. YES I KNOW. I enjoy reading the romance, but nothing really has a chokehold on me the way it does others in fandom. I respect ships, I write ships, but nothing really *speaks* to me at the moment. But if you're going to FORCE my hand - Zevran x Tabris (Dragon Age), Dorian x Iron Bull (Dragon Age)... and then?? um I am a fan of OC fics in general so I read all sorts of Character x OC stuff.

Favorite color: emerald green, navy blue, mulled wine (yes i know it's more than one)

Last song: King by Florence & The Machine

Last book: *stares straight into the camera* The Earl I Ruined by Scarlett Peckham. I'm trying to read some historical romances to help with one of my fics.

Last movie: A Haunting in Venice. It was just okay, but I had a lot of fun watching it.

Currently watching: All the Nancy Drew game play throughs by Gab Smolders.

Current obsession: Eris Vanserra? I guess? Mostly my own fic, if I'm being honest.

Currently working on: Blood in the Wine Chapter Five (and a handful of other things, but that's the tab I have open)

Country you want to visit: South Korea

____________

I am certain some of you have already been tagged, but that's okay. Also no pressure to actually do this.

@andrigyn, @bubybubsters, @thelovelymadone, @skrubadub

[quiisquiliae]

A reunion, of sorts.

Drabble for @daughterofhighever-blog and I's arranged marriage AU between Azriel Trevelyan and Elissa Cousland. Takes place after the attack on the Couslands, Elissa was taken to the Circle for safety by Duncan and Warden recruit Finn Tabris. Azriel has just arrived to retrieve her and guess who shows up to recruit help from the mages.

The ride had felt like a blur, despite how painfully long it had taken the pair to reach the Circle of Magi near Redcliffe. Word had first been received that the Couslands had been viciously slaughtered, and shortly after, word received that Elissa and their young daughter had escaped and been on their way to the Circle for safety. Azriel had spent the last ten days hauling ass, pushing his mare as fast as she could go to get to the Circle. He had to see if Elissa and Evie were ok. They had to be alive- right?

Rita's head hung low, exhausted by the pace they'd set the last several days as he and Alaric pulled up to the inn on the edge of Lake Calenhad. Alaric's mount wasn't faring much better.

"Let's ask the innkeeper if we can keep our horses here," Alaric suggested. "It's not like we can take them on the boat- or have any use for them at the tower."

Azriel was loathe to stop and make small talk, but he had to admit his brother had a point. His own mind was clouded with fear and anger, and it was good that at least one of them was thinking straight. He nodded, having not spoken much on the ride and dismounted, tying Rita to the rail.

"Let's just make it fast."

As they entered the inn, it was delightfully warm, the smell of hearty roast and stew wafting through the air. A pang in Azriel's stomach prompted him to realize he had forgotten the last time he'd eaten anything.

"Can I help ye?" The large, friendly looking innkeeper asked from behind the bar where he was drying some glasses. He eyed the pair, noting how tired and worn they looked. The blond looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. "We got a room open if yer lookin'."

"No, not right now," Azriel started. "Would it be at all possible if we could keep our horses here while we go to the Circle across the lake? We shouldn't be too long, I just need to get my wife and-"

He was cut off, as a large dog barked from upstairs excitedly, and came bounding down the stairs, jumping on him and toppling him over into a table behind.

"Hakkon!"

The dog barked happily, covering Azriel's face in slobbery kisses as Azriel cracked a smile for the first time in weeks, some of the weight having lifted from his chest. Figuratively speaking anyways, as there was a hundred plus pound Mabari pinning him down. If Hakkon was alive, then maybe-

"I take it he knows ye?" The innkeeper laughed. "He hasn't much let anyone around him or the babe since they were brought here. Certainly not me, and barely my wife."

"The babe?" Alaric looked at Azriel, who paused the petting of Hakkon to return the hopeful glance. "Then that means-"

"My daughter is here?" Azriel was pushing Hakkon off, looking at the innkeeper, hardly able to contain himself. "Where-"

"She's here, safe and sound," The innkeeper's wife said smiling, as she came down the stairs with Evie in her arms. Evie cooed and squealed in glee as soon as she saw her father, reaching her chubby little arms out to him. "It seems this little one belongs to you."

Azriel took Evie in his arms, holding her as tight as he dared and pressed his face into her soft red curls. For a moment, it seemed as though time had stopped. His daughter was safe. The toll the last few weeks had taken on him and the immense relief he felt right then was too much, and he started to cry silent tears into her little dress. They were only missing one more piece, and then everything would be ok again… Right?

"Thank you," he rasped out, voice breaking.

Alaric rested a hand reassuringly on his brother's back. "Where's Elissa? Evie's mother?" He asked the innkeeper.

The wife shook her head. "There was only a Chantry sister who came with the dog and baby. The mother- Elissa- stayed in the Circle. There's been a lot going on, and she was concerned for Evie's safety and so sent her here."

It was then that the door opened once more, and all four adults looked up to see who it could be. A redheaded elf entered, followed by a redheaded lady, a dark haired mage, and another young man. The men were wearing the classic blue and silver indicative of the Grey Warden order.

"Grey Wardens!" Alaric breathed softly, surprised. Hakkon wagged his nub of a tail, almost smiling at the elf. Azriel raised a confused eyebrow at the dog.

"Back so soon my friend?" The innkeeper asked, smiling.

The elf nodded, looking at Hakkon, offering his hand for the dog to sniff and receiving an affectionate lick in return. "Good to see you too. Both of you." He turned towards the innkeeper, as Hakkon and his own Mabari sniffed each other inquisitively. "Any word on what's going on? The Templar at the boat seems rather tight lipped."

"You're trying to get to the Circle too?" Alaric asked curiously.

Finn tilted his head, looking at the other. "We are. Why, are you? What business do you have there?"

"My wife is there," Azriel said. "I need to go get her."

"Dunno if you've heard, but apparently there's a Blight trying to start and we're hoping they could help us," the other man said.

The innkeeper shook his head, frowning. "They haven't let anyone over there in awhile since the mages returned from Ostagar. Something's going on with the mages. Dunno what, that fellow with the boat is pretty tight lipped."

"We're Wardens. They have to listen to us… Right?" Finn looked at Alistair, raising an eyebrow.

"Perhaps we could intimidate him into letting us cross," the mage offered.

Finn shook his head. "No. We're Wardens. I'll talk to him."

"Can I come with you?" Alaric asked. "I can fight- I've trained to be a Templar, but I haven't taken my vows just yet. I can handle a sword and bow though."

"You're a former Templar recruit too?" Alistair asked. "We should really start a club!"

"A club for former Chantry dogs who've since come to their senses?" The mage quipped.

"Morrigan!" The red haired lady admonished.

"We'd be happy to have you along." Finn reached out a hand and Alaric grasped it, both boys smiling. Finn turned to Azriel, still snuggling Evie close. "Are you coming as well?"

Azriel's stomach dropped to the floor. On one hand, he wanted desperately to go to his wife and make sure she was safe. On the other, he couldn't stand the thought of letting his daughter out of his sight again. Or even putting her down for that matter.

"We have a goat," the innkeeper's wife offered softly, seeing the concern written on his face. "She's been eating well here and has been an absolute delight. We wouldn't mind having her for a little longer."

Alaric rested his hand on his brother's back once more. "But no one will blame you if you stay. I promise I'll bring Elissa back safe and sound."

Azriel rested his lips against Evie's forehead and said a silent prayer for forgiveness and a promise to return to her quickly. I love you baby girl. Steeling himself to not cry again, he handed her back to the wife giving her a nod. "Please keep her safe for me."

"Of course I will," she responded solomnly, taking the babe in her arms once more.

"You keep an eye on them, got it?" Azriel said to Hakkon, who dutifully sat next to the wife and Evie.

"Alright. Let's go."

[anneapocalypse]

January Writing (+ a little Wednesday WIP)

Word Count: 6250

Thanks to getting sick this month, I did not get as much done this month as I'd hoped, but all things considered, I'm not unhappy with what I did get. I did some work on Harsh Light early in the month, wrote various FFXIV snippets throughout, and as February approaches, I have been writing a bit of Dragon Age again! This is the first week I've been back to my writing routine in earnest, but I'm feeling very energized and ready to do more.

I had been tossing around the idea of working on A Hero Sleeps in Gwaren in February (I may not end up with anything ready to post for Femslash February, but I can at least work on some femslash!) and as January comes to an end I've found myself excited to get back into that fic, and to work on an established project in general, so I think that's what's happening.

Here's a little snippet from this week!

Context: While Teyrn Tabris and Briala were in Denerim getting married, her human vassals have attempted a coup, and Castle Gwaren is currently under seige. With the help of an already-organized elven resistance, our heroines must find a way back to the castle to take command and put down the coup.

The first hitch was that the wagon would be inspected upon entering the town. There was no way around this. Bribery was not an option; if the guards were humans in the service of the banns, there was a strong chance they would simply pocket the gold and turn the elves in anyway. The resistance had a handful of people on the inside—elven knights sworn to the nobles' service, hired by necessity, Talith had explained, as the population of Gwaren had shifted more and more toward elves. They were trusted, reluctantly, to wield the sword for their liege, but they would not be trusted to guard the gates during a coup against the elven ruler. Unless there were an unexpected change of guard rotation, perhaps due to sudden illness. Talith had visibly perked up, to Briala's amusement, at the mention of poisons. "What will you be using? Not deathroot, I assume." "Nay, too bitter, easily detected," Alys had replied, briskly taking down phials and jars from a high cabinet she had unlocked with a large steel key. "I prefer a strain of deep mushroom for such applications… a moderate solution, we don't want them dead immediately, just taken ill, which is going to arouse suspicion as it is, so our agents will be administering the poison at the last possible minute, and your timing will be narrow, as it's likely to be discovered quickly. Our scheduled guards will sit down to lunch, fall ill within the hour, and our people will step in to replace them, just long enough to get your wagon inside. As soon as the commander discovers them, their cover will be burned, so Farron's got someone to extract them… hopefully." She had removed several strips of dried mushroom gingerly with a pair of tongs, crushing them to a powder with her mortar and pestle, then looked up to regard Talith and Briala gravely. "That spends two of our agents, and there's a chance they may not make it out. So, with all due respect, my ladies, do make this one count." Talith had swallowed. "Thank you, Alys. This means everything to me." "To us as well, my lady. It's our future hangs in the balance here, and we'll do what we can to restore you as our rightful ruler. There will be casualties, and I know you won't spend those lives lightly." Her eyes had dropped to the floor. "Still, I know nearly every elf in the resistance by name… I'd be remiss if I didn't say it. I pray the Maker give you swift and decisive victory… for us, as well as for you."

[shivunin]

A tentative exploratory kiss between friends

for whichever pairing you think it applies to ^_^

Thank you so much! c: I wrote this one for my Warden, Arianwen Tabris, and Zev:

(Arianwen Tabris/Zevran Arainai | CW: references to sex)

Only a Kiss

Watch was Arianwen’s least favorite part of the night, aside from the nightmares. 

Besides the fact that it was pointless with Shale looming in the corner, there was the awkward wakefulness with one of her traveling companions. They filled it in their various ways—Leliana by humming quietly, Wynne by trying to impart wisdom of whatever sort she thought Wen needed, Morrigan, bless her, filled the time with silence and the grimoire, Alistair with caring for his weapons and chattering (though Tabris had realized recently, to her horror, that this bothered her less than it once had).

 Zevran, perhaps unsurprisingly, filled the time with idle flirting. 

Arianwen knew it was idle because she’d seen him when he was really flirting and this was nothing like that. He sat to her left now, half-reclined (because the fellow seemed allergic to not draping himself over the nearest surface), and he was talking. Again. 

“—simply a matter of inexperience, I would be perfectly happy to assist,” he said, and Arianwen, whose forehead had been pressed into her palms, at last straightened up and looked at him. 

He’d come close to offering before. Usually, she stopped him before he got that far. It felt…dangerous, in a way she couldn’t put into words, to let him actually offer to…touch her, or whatever it was he was offering to do. 

“I’m not inexperienced,” she snapped, hand falling to her belt knife and gripping it for support, “Maker, I—do you ever stop talking?” 

“No?” he asked, one brow raising, “In what way?”

“What?” she hissed, ignoring the faint heat in her cheeks, “In the way. You know.”

“I do not,” he said, and a second brow joined the first, “Perhaps you might clarify matters for me.” 

The problem, she decided silently, was that his mouth moved in such an odd and fascinating way when he spoke. She couldn’t help wanting to echo his words whenever he talked—which, she’d long since decided, was not attraction. Such things were surely not for her after everything else. But…

“Hmm,” he said after a moment, “I shall guess then. A game!”

“No,” she groaned, and turned away from him again. 

“You have…lain with someone?”

Wen flicked a glance at him. His eyes were expectant, his head cocked to the side so that a single lock of blonde hair drifted loose from its queue. 

“Yes.” 

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Zevran. What.”

He shrugged and straightened slightly, crossing his arms. 

“I cannot imagine it.”

“I’d rather you didn’t try,” she muttered, then sighed, “I just—wanted it to be my choice before the... We didn’t…it was fast.”

“Ah,” Zevran said, and against her will she looked at him again. 

“It is just,” he said, “You have the type of beauty that any man would need to take hours—no, days—to appreciate fully.”

“Alright,” Arianwen said, and stood, “If you’re just going to lie to me, I’ll—”

“No, no,” he said, standing at her side and reaching for her wrist before thinking better of it, “A liar I might be, but I assure you I am not lying in this. Have you ever been kissed?”

Arianwen pressed her lips together, her hand wrapping again around her belt knife. The hilt was sturdy and strong against her palm, warm as a good friend and twice as dependable. 

“No,” she said at last, and Zevran stepped closer, as one would take a step closer to a wolf with its teeth bared. 

“Would you like to be?” he asked, stopping at a respectful six inches away, “As…friends, you understand. It would be a shame to allow you to continue down this treacherous path without experiencing such a singular pleasure even once.”

Wen’s hand tightened on the knife, then loosened. After a moment, she squeezed it tightly again. 

“Alright,” she said, and he straightened as if he hadn’t expected the answer, “Alright. Just—if I—you have to stop when I say.”

“Of course,” he said, and edged a step closer, “May I…? It makes things easier.” 

“May you—” she caught sight of his hand, half-raised toward her cheek, and swallowed hard, “Ah—I. Yes, alright. Do it.”

He chuckled faintly, but must have thought better of whatever smart remark had occurred to him because he took another step closer instead. 

There was something winding tighter and tighter in her chest, as if a gentle hand was squeezing all the air from her lungs. She tightened her grip on the knife until it hurt, until her knuckles ached, and almost pulled it from the sheath when his callused palm cupped her cheek and his lips finally pressed to hers. 

They were…soft. Softer than she might have expected, had she been thinking about the assassin’s mouth, and she certainly hadn’t been. He was careful at first, holding almost perfectly still. That was for the best; she thought that she would have bolted in an instant if he’d tried to slip his tongue into her mouth the way the boys she’d grown up with had always done with their beaus. 

Then, his hand, hot on her cool cheek, shifted slightly and his thumb stroked once over her cheekbone. He tilted his head slightly, pressing his lips more firmly to hers, and she realized abruptly that his eyes were closed. His eyes were closed, so hers probably ought to be closed, too, and—and she should be moving her lips, too, shouldn’t she? Wasn’t she supposed to be moving her lips? 

Just when the panic threatened to crest, Zevran broke the kiss. He didn’t move away at once; instead, he set a kiss upon her cheek as carefully as a courtier presenting a tithe to his ruler. Another followed, at her temple, and another at her forehead, the other cheek, and each of her eyelids, one after the other. With a faint sigh, he pressed one final kiss to her lips. Arianwen, who’d closed her eyes at last, flinched at the gesture. At some point, she’d relaxed—how, she’d no idea—but she stiffened again as soon as his mouth met hers. 

“Well,” she said abruptly, stepping back and out of his grasp. Zevran didn’t try to hold her; just kept himself still, one hand still raised to the height of her cheek. Wen cleared her throat and tried again.

“Well. That was…nice. I’m going to check the perimeter.”

“Oh!” Zevran said, and if she’d been paying better attention she might have seen the strange look in his eyes. She wasn’t, though—paying attention—and her mind was focused only on getting away as quickly as possible. She didn’t stick around long enough to hear what he’d meant to say next. 

Once she broke through the trees, her fingers found the knives strapped to her back. She threw them quickly, one after the other, and each one thudded into a tree trunk closer and closer to the knot she’d been aiming for. When the last sunk into the center of the darker circle, she took a deep breath and combed her hair back from her face with steady fingers. 

It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t. Just…a flirt looking for a way to occupy his time. That was all. 

That was all. Nothing more. 

Slightly reassured, Wen strode forward and retrieved her knives, ignoring the quiet beading of sap at each of the wounds left behind.

[danceswithdarkspawn]

So, for the ask! Three fics I don't think you'd write without enabling... 😈

1) A next generation fic following Ariel and Leliana's children

2) A hanahaki fic ending in Major Character Death

3)A coffee shop AU for the characters of Broken Bird

Oh lord this took so long I apologize. Ask game here.

First, I want to thank you for the third option, because it provided my partner and me with some good entertainment while we tried to figure out who would be what and what everyone looked like. I might actually do this one eventually, even if it's just a short piece.

Also loved the hanahaki one, I could see myself doing that, and I definitely see myself needing to research the trope and flowers and…needless to say it's a little more than my brain can handle at the moment, but I love it.

So that leaves us with the next-gen fic, and I have finally landed on something. I actually really like how this turned out so I'm likely to revisit it at some point to make it a full Thing™

555 words of young adult Aveline being Done™ and then her bestie shows up.

Aveline watched her brother Cassius bound up the stairs to the upper level of the ballroom, violin in one hand and bowstring in the other. She rolled the stem of her glass between her fingers  as he took their mothers in one-armed embraces; Leliana first with much enthusiasm, and then Ariel with more restraint. Aveline chewed the inside of her lip as she read the words 'you did good' and 'I'm so proud of you' on their lips, and she sank as far into the wall as her gown allowed her. Which wasn't very far; it was insufferably uncomfortable to begin with. And her mask was uncomfortably hot on her face, and if she turned a certain way something poked into her temple or tugged at her hair and she hated masks.

She let out a long sigh and looked away from them, searching the gathering of stuffy masquerade-goers. The night had barely begun and she was already done. Half of the fucking attendance tried to speak with her, but she didn't care much for the empty small talk of Orlesian nobility. Mostly they were curious about her brother, or how her mothers were doing, or how this, that, and the other was. Only a few thought to ask about her, and that was only after a heavy dose of fawning over Cassius' playing. It wore on her nerves.

She drifted along the floor, back straight and chin up—just as her mother taught her—craning her neck to see past the horde of people watching the ballroom floor below. One of the onlookers broke away from the line of observers. A young man, tall, dark-skinned and raven-haired, briefly met Aveline's eyes as he turned from the crowd, but he stopped, did a doubletake, and paused amidst the floor. Then a smile broke across his face, and Aveline couldn't help the small smile that upturned her lips. She motioned with a nod. He lifted a hand in answer before disappearing into one of the many side halls.

Aveline followed after him, albeit at a much more leisurely pace. She dropped her glass on a tray as a servant walked past her and discarded her mask in one of the many oversized vases decorating the place. She worked the front of her gown until it opened up a little, just enough so she could breathe without being indecent. The crowds dwindled to nothing the further she traversed the estate. Finally, she came upon a grand window, flung open with its curtains gently flowing in the breeze, and she knew she found what she was looking for. She bunched her skirts in her hands as she carefully picked her way out the window, out onto a balcony overlooking the estate's back garden. The summer air almost immediately overwhelmed her; hot and sticky and heavy and she huffed out a breath, smoothing her skirts back into place.

"Well, well—" Aveline turned at the honey-rich voice, finding that man emerging from the shadows. He, too, had discarded his mask, allowing the moonlight to run unimpeded over his soft features. His cocksure grin grew wider with each jaunty step he took. "Lady Tabris, I wasn't expecting to see you here."

Aveline sneered at him, taking off her snow-white gloves and throwing them at his chest. "Oh, spare me, Lord Montilyet."