#zevraholics

[starla-nell]

for @heniareth during OC Kiss Week, just under the wire!

King Sulri Aeducan and Inquisitor Thena Adaar meet for negotiations at Skyhold during DA:I. They're all very professional... until the negotiations are concluded.

Inquisitor Thena Adaar lounges in the comfortable chairs Josie had brought in just for the aftermath of these negotiations. She’s impressed, as usual, with Josie’s sensitivity to subtlety. Thena is sitting just a bit lower than King Sulri Aeducan, without being uncomfortable herself, nor with any awkwardness on Sulri’s part. That helps put them on more even position, in spite of Thena’s height and horns.  

“Well, I think those negotiations have turned out well for both of our peoples,” Thena says. She’s wearing softer, less formal clothing for this evening’s socializing, but in a color Josie had once said made her look less like granite. At the time, Thena had tried to explain the compliments she’d gotten for her ‘chiseled’ cheekbones, but Josie had said that had nothing to do with her wardrobe.

King Sulri gives a sweet smile. “It helps that Ms. Montilyet isn’t willing to milk her allies dry for a short-term gain,” she said.

“Do you encounter that attitude often?” Thena asks.

“Let’s just say it’s refreshing,” King Sulri says. She had done this during the negotiations, too. She wasn’t stingy with necessary information, but she also didn’t allow anything to slip that was unnecessary.

“Well, Josephine is the best,” Thena says. “If she did ever decide to milk anyone dry, I’m sure they’d thank her after.”

King Sulri raises an eyebrow. “Would they?”

“Not like… that? Is that dirty? How would that…?” Thena sputters. “Nevermind, I probably don’t want to know.”

Sulri laughs. “Don’t worry! I’m just teasing you. I’m a little surprised how quickly your mind went to the gutter, though, Inquisitor Adaar. After all, I’m quite sure I don’t know how that would work, either. I gather,” and here she waves her hand gracefully in the direction Josie had disappeared to, “Ms. Montilyet does not have sexual inclinations.”

Thena sighs, but it comes out a little more long-suffering than she intended. “No, she doesn’t.”

Sulri smiles coyly at that. “You’re an admirer, I gather?” she asks, leaning forward, and there seems to be something else behind the question.

Thena considers carefully. She’s been shot down so often lately, gently and otherwise, but she likes to think she doesn’t let that slow her down. Eventually, something will go her way. It always does. Eventually.

“Yes, though I like to think I just generally appreciate people,” Thena says. “There’s a lot to like about Josephine. I would argue there’s as much to like about you, as well.”

“Really?” Sulri seems to be a bit taken aback, but then smiles again, like sugar and trouble. “Well, that’s darling, but you hardly know me.”

“Don’t I?” Thena counters. “I’ve watched you through this negotiation. You prioritize your people, not the nobility. I think you’re like me, you want as many people to get through this Corypheus mess as possible.”

“Including myself,” Sulri snaps, “and not including anyone who would betray me.”

Thena’s mouth twists in something wry. “Naturally. Does that even need to be said?”

“Just so we’re clear,” Sulri says haughtily. She seems very pleased, which encourages Thena.

“Even with all that, though, you are also gorgeous. I wouldn’t be in a position to offer anything stable—we both have obligations apart—” Thena is pleased when Sulri snorts at this understatement. “but that never stopped me as a mercenary, and it certainly wouldn’t stop me now. If you were willing.”

“Darling,” Sulri says, standing gracefully. Here it comes, Thena thinks, bracing herself for disappointment. But then Sulri grabs Thena’s wrists, sending a thrill shooting through her arms, and lower. “You certainly are as forward as they say Surface mercenaries are.”

Thena’s brain is softening around the edges a bit already, and she struggles to keep her mind on moving things forward. “Yes, ma’am,” she manages.

“How darling,” Sulri says softly, and Thena feels herself melt at the warmth in her voice. She hovers an inch from Thena’s lips, a sweet, mineral freshness in the air around her. Thena feels her breath hitch, and that scent overwhelms her. She dreams of Sulri’s hair in her fingers, of their skin brushing bare together, of their longing meeting in the soft silence of Thena’s bedroom.

Then Sulri kisses Thena, pinning her wrists firmly to her chair. Their longing meets, expands, explodes, showers over them as Sulri teases, and taunts, and tantalizes.

Then she takes a step back.

“Wow,” Thena says, those sparks of longing still dancing over her. “I. I have a room. I definitely have one of those. It’s nice, even. It’s discrete, from here. Would you…?”

“My darling Inquisitor,” Sulri says as she releases Thena’s wrists and backs up another few steps. “I’d be delighted.”

“Thena. You’d probably better call me Thena.”

[badartxd]

✨I saw a photo and went a bit feral so now this Zevran exists. I’m pretty fond of how it turned out.✨

References are below the cut

So I very very closely referenced the photo from this reel:

And used this image for the background:

[zevraholics]

ZevWarden Week 2023

What is it? A week (this year, November 5th - 11th) of creating new content, sharing it, and celebrating the wonderful relationship between Zevran Arainai and Grey Warden(s) of your choice. How to participate: Feel free to follow the daily prompts as inspiration for whatever ZevWarden-related content your heart desires. Fics, art, meta discussions - everything goes! Remember to tag your works appropriately (ie. #nsfw. Also see our full tag list here.) Most of all, have fun!

Prompts:

Sunday, November 5: Tradition and Trying New Things

Monday, November 6: Secrets, Kept and Told

Tuesday, November 7: Fear and Safety

Wednesday, November 8: Work and Pleasure

Thursday, November 9: Bodies and Minds

Friday, November 10: Favourite Things and Pet Peeves

Saturday, November 11: Family, Lost and Found

Tag your content with #zevwarden week 2023 or @zevraholics on your post and we’ll reblog it here.

*Any art found to be whitewashing Zevran will not be shared.

Day 1 - Sunday, November 5 - Tradition and Trying New Things

"It's Antivan tradition to throw coins in such a well as this. Supposedly it brings one luck." Which traditions (cultural, familial, personal) do Zevran and the Warden have in common, and which are different? Are there any that are unfamiliar at first, but one of them shares with the other? What are ways the two of them break with the past, forge their own paths, or maybe even create new traditions?

Day 2 - Monday, November 6 - Secrets, Kept and Told

Morrigan, "Are [the Crows] so powerful simply because they are very good at what they do? Or is there some secret to their power?" Zevran, "If there were a secret, it would only remain so if it were not told, my dear." What secrets do Zevran and the Warden keep from other people? From each other? Are there any consequences of keeping secrets, positive or negative? What truths eventually reach the light of day, and how does that reveal come about?

Day 3 - Tuesday, November 7 - Fear and Safety

"You mean you want to hear about the grueling training? Being locked in an oubliette for weeks at a time? The slavery? The festering injuries? Or are we seeking something more glamorous?" / "Oh, those things never happened to me." There are stand-out moments of fear in the life of any Grey Warden or an Antivan Crow. Share a time one or both of them were terrified. Did they face fear bravely, or did it get the better of them? What was the impact of that moment? Or, share a story about a time the two of them found safety, comfort, or calm. How did that feeling come about? Was it short-lived or long lasting?

Day 4 - Wednesday, November 8 - Work and Pleasure

"Falling down a flight of stairs is an adventure. Falling into someone's bed? Also an adventure. I am assuming what you're looking for are professional anecdotes." How much adventuring do Zevran and the Warden get up to after Origins, either together or on their own? What jobs or titles do they come to have, what anecdotes do they have to tell? Or do they settle down for a quiet life somewhere—either restlessly or happily?

Day 5 - Thursday, November 9 - Bodies and Minds

Alistair, "So those... designs you have all over your back..." Zevran, "They're called tattoos. And I have them in many more places than just on my back, my friend." What stories do Zevran and the Wardens' bodies tell? How have their bodies changed over time? How do they carry themselves, or use gestures or mannerisms? What about a time when they ran, swam, fought, or enjoyed other physical movement? Or focus your work on a part of the body - eyes, hands, hair, scars.

Day 6 - Friday, November 10 - Favorite Things and Pet Peeves

"I fancy many things. I fancy things that are beautiful and things that are strong. I fancy things that are dangerous and exciting.Would you be offended if I said I fancied you?" What are Zevran and the Warden's favorite things about each other? How did they discover those favorite things—slowly over time, or in one particular moment? What things get on their nerves about the other person? Is this something they make an effort to change, or does their partner just have to learn to live with it?

Day 7 - Saturday, November 11 - Family, Lost and Found

"Surely your life has not been so idyllic? People like you and I are not the product of happy lives of contentment, after all." Maybe the Warden resonates with that particular line from Zevran, maybe they don't. What does being part of a family mean to the Warden and Zevran? Does the answer change across different points in their lives? If they regard each other as part of a family, is there anyone else involved in their family? (Friends, other lovers, biological or adopted children, elders?)

[raymurata]

OC Kiss Week at the Zevraholics. Alec and @antivan-beau 's Edric Surana.

You know, just casually hitting on a stranger at a party. Certainly won't bump into him ever again...

[scribbledquillz]

.

[chocobarsatnight]

oh, zevran arainai? you mean the best bioware blorbo?

[knyazserebryanyy]

I collected all my drawings for ZevWarden Week 2023.

It was the first time I participated in such an event and I want to say thank you to @zevraholics for organizing it. You have given me inspiration and courage❤️❤️❤️

Great respect to the creators who also published their work. You've done a great and cool job!!

And special thanks to all those who followed the challenge, showed interest in the work and give feedback. Your support has been incredibly valuable❤️❤️❤️

[catebees]

Zevwarden week day 1: Tradition and Trying New Things

Coffee Zevran would argue that waking up next to his Vera every day was a victory on it's own. But the day he convinced her to try coffee had to be his biggest triumph.

Hopping onto @zevraholics's zevwarden week!! This is gonna get domestic as hell get ready <3

[ghostwise]

fiddlehead greens, a collection of drabbles from zevwarden week 2023 💖💖 thank you @zevraholics for putting the event together, I loved seeing all the art and fic people created! 💖💖

[heniareth]

ZevWarden Week 2023 - Day 2 (second)

Because I was inspired and also personally very curious:

You are more than encouraged to expound upon your answer in the tags, comments or a direct reblog. Just make sure to tag your answer with any tags that apply from the list compiled for this event so people can filter to find or avoid. Thank you to @zevraholics for putting all the work into organizing it. Happy polling and happy ZevWarden week 2023!!

[inquisimer]

i carried my own ashes to the mountains

for day 1 of @zevraholics' Zevwarden week 2023, tradition and trying new things - some pre-ship Nika and Zevran, a discussion of what will come of her return to Orzammar.

pairing: f!Brosca & Zevran word count: 1200 rating: general audiences tags: hurt/comfort, platonic relationships, fluff, a hint of pining if you squint

Nika stared at her reflection, warped and hazy in the frozen puddle outside their camp. A few hundred yards back through the trees their tents formed a half-circle around the fire. Beyond that loomed the peaks of the Frostback Mountains and within them, the gates to Orzammar.

Orzammar. Nearly three years gone since she’d left and going back now felt as intimidating as leaving with Duncan had then. Her fingertips traced over the faded brand on her cheek, newly bisected by a long, fresh scar. One of three—souvenirs from their battle with the dragon in Haven. Between that, and the weight on her shoulders, and the harsh cynicism regret had etched into her, she wondered if anyone in Orzammar would recognize the rebellious little casteless who dared defy their laws.

Part of her hoped they wouldn’t. Then she wouldn’t be alone in seeing a stranger in her face.

“Reminiscing, chapparita?”

A twig snapped under Zevran’s weight and Nika’s hand fell from her cheek as she glanced at him over her shoulder. She shrugged.

“Something like that, I suppose.”

Zevran hummed his doubt. Of all her companions, he would know. When they stumbled across his ill-conceived trap, she was still fresh-faced and sun-blind, lost without the cavernous Stone to ground her. She'd nearly shanked him in her anger. But his eyes shone with the wild desperation of someone who had absolutely nothing left to lose—he would have welcomed her blade, and it was a look so familiar that to see it in another shocked the rage right out of her.

He repaid her mercy with a curious devotion, sitting up with her through the coldest, darkest watches and fording paths when their inane quests took them through wilderness where even the smallest plants stood well above Nika's head. Bit by bit, he came to know her history, wheedling it out of her as none of the others had even tried to.

Things weren’t so different between the Carta and the Crows. Antiva's operation was larger and more storied, of course, but both were ruthless and cutthroat to a fault and you were only worth as much as the success of your last job. Nika didn't know many assassins, but she knew how they worked, and nothing builds trust like a mutually assured dagger in the back.

Zevran leaned against a tree and regarded her with a knowing look.

"You are apprehensive about returning to Orzammar."

"Am not."

He huffed, an aborted laugh that fogged the air around his mouth. "Dear Warden, there are at least seven paths that could have gotten us here sooner. And don't tell me you don't know of them," he added, for she'd opened her mouth to do exactly that. "I showed you how to read the map myself."

She rolled her eyes. "And?"

"And I think you should know that you do not need to run off into the woods with your woes." Zevran squatted at her side and tilted her face toward him with a knuckle on her chin. "You do not need to hide from me, chapparita. Not after everything."

"I know it's just..." Nika pursed her lips. "It's stupid. I just need a few moments to get it together."

"If it causes you distress, it cannot possibly be stupid."

"Yes it can," Nika grumped. "I get distressed by stupid things all the time. Rain and wagons. Broken lockpicks. Alistair."

"While amusing, this deflection won't save you." Zevran caught one of her hands and traced the calloused lines of her palm. "What troubles you so about returning home?"

"Home?" Nika scoffed. "Hardly a home. A place of origin, perhaps. But there was too much anger and never enough food to really call it a home."

"But you have family there, yes? Your sister and the young man...Lester?"

Nika's gut twisted. "Leske. And Rica, yes, they're still there. Or at least, I think they are. Some of the rumors coming up from Orzammar make me think there may well be nothing but carnage when we get there."

"Is that what troubles you, then?"

"Mmm not really. The city can tear itself to shreds for all I care, 'slong as Rica and Leske got out."

"Not worried about the city, not really worried about your family." Zevran tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Your reception upon return, then?"

Nika scrunched up her face. She really was quite transparent these days—if Behraht had been able to read her that well, she'd've never been allowed in the Carta, no matter how well Rica cleaned up. She glanced down at her griffon-stamped chestplate and sighed.

"I'm not the same person who left Dust Town," she finally said. "You know—you were there for most of the changing, the struggling, the growing."

"Not too much growing," Zevran teased, waving his hand over her head. She swatted at it and stuck her tongue out at him.

"The thing is, the time and the experience and even being a Warden—it won't matter to the people down there. You can't change your lot in life in Orzammar, so..."

She brought her fingers back to her marked cheek and Zevran’s gaze followed. "Once a brand, always a brand," she said bitterly. "I'm not even sure they'll listen to the treaties, not if I'm the one asking."

In the silence that followed, Nika stewed. She could feel Zevran considering her, but she didn’t want his comfort or his pity. Not when she had to walk back on the way the surface had changed her perspective. Not when she needed to be as cold and cruel as she’d ever been, to survive a return to Orzammar.

Gentle fingers caught her chin once more and this time the pad of Zevran’s thumb ghosted over the raised skin of her brand.

“They know you by this, as you were. But that is not who you are any longer so: have you considered…changing it?”

“How can I? It’s as much a part of me as my nose.”

“You misunderstand. I am not suggesting you attempt to remove it, anymore than I would suggest expunging your history before the Wardens.” Zevran dropped his hand to her shoulder and gently squeezed. “But the rest of you has changed on this venture. Should your face not change as well?”

Nika went very still. Her eyes darted back to the frozen puddle and the stranger reflected there. She imagined dark ink spiraling out around the blocky lines of the brand, weaving in and around the scar tissue, softening the hard border of the burden she’d worn like a prize all her life, just as this journey had softened all of her sharp edges.

In her heart, the idea slotted into place, so right that it immediately drew her out of her anxious melancholy. With eager eyes, she grabbed Zevran by the wrists.

“Can we do it now? Right now?”

A soft, warm smile crinkled the corners of Zevran’s eyes, a hint of wistfulness keeping it from catching at his mouth proper. But it swiftly gave way to his usual grin and he lifted her small frame effortlessly, swinging her onto his back.

“Of course, chapparita. We can begin whenever you like.”

[badartxd]

I’m going to leave some doodles here, starting with Barric with a fancy earring for grubby liddol bastid (Cam?) on the Zevraholics discord :D first time I did Varric and he was fun to draw

[zevraholics]

ZevWarden Week 2023 Tags

ZevWarden Week 2023 Masterpost Here

Type of Work:

Fanfic Fanart Meta Screenshot GIF Other

Prompt:

Day 1: Tradition and Trying New Things Day 2: Secrets, Kept and Told Day 3: Fear and Safety Day 4: Work and Pleasure Day 5: Bodies and Minds Day 6: Favourite Things and Pet Peeves Day 7: Family, Lost and Found

Ship:

ZevWarden Zevran x m!Warden Zevran x f!Warden Zevran x nb!Warden Zevran x Aeducan Zevran x Amell Zevran x Brosca Zevran x Cousland Zevran x Mahariel Zevran x Surana Zevran x Tabris Zevran x OC Zevistair Polyamory Zevran x Other

Content:

Dad Zevran Pregnancy Children Colorism Fantasy Racism Suicidal Thoughts Suicide Death Ultimate Sacrifice Blood GoreAbuseTorture Non-Con NSFW Kink Smut Threesome Foursome Nudity Shirtless Sexual Tension Fluff Pining Angst Hurt-Comfort Drug Use

[antivan-beau]

to eat the flaring sunbeam

Zevran/Female Cousland, T, 2896 words (complete)

They haven't known each other long, but Beatrice and Zevran could die any day here in the Brecilian Forest. Zevran's massage offer and what could come next aren't complicated. Right? In which two intelligent people are careful with each other's feelings, while doing their best to look super fucking casual about it all.

Read on AO3.

For Zevwarden Week 2023 - Day 1: “Tradition and Trying New Things.” @zevraholics

An unorthodox take on "tradition and trying new things," but it takes an upset to the flow of battle to bring Beatrice and Zevran closer. And damn is "explicit communication about being friends with benefits" a new thing for both an assassin and a noblewoman.

[bumblerhizal-art]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Male Tabris Characters: Male Tabris (Dragon Age), Zevran Arainai, Nathaniel Howe Additional Tags: Autistic Warden, Disabled Warden, Post-Canon, Misunderstandings, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Sex, City Elf Culture & Customs (Dragon Age)

Summary: Local master of psychological manipulation so autistic he does not realize he has been married for years.

Zevwarden Week 2023 Day 1: Tradition

a bit late but better than never! event graciously hosted by @zevraholics

[shivunin]

Desk Job

(Arianwen Tabris/Zevran Arainai | 2,461 Words | CW: explicit sexual content/smut (on AO3, not this post)

For @zevraholics' Zevwarden Week Day 4: Work and Pleasure:

Zevran had donned his usual dark armor for the day, though she supposed he’d done so more to intimidate her slate of visitors than because he actually expected to be attacked here. The nobility was not especially fond of his presence at these meetings. Wen didn’t care. She’d told them all he was her bodyguard—very few knew that she was married at all, even now—and glared at them until they’d left it alone. 

“I am going to strangle someone,” she informed him, her hands squeezing into claws before loosening again. “I cannot take another afternoon of this.”

“Of course you can,” Zevran tilted his head until a lock of pale hair drifted across it. “You have done it these past four days, have you not?”

“Agh!” she said, with feeling. Zevran laughed. 

“Is that so? Well, then. Perhaps some light sparring before the next visitor. Are you game?”

Arianwen felt that ragged, angry little thing in her chest straighten up and focus. A spar—not as good as a real fight, but Zevran was a treat to spar with. Always had been, since the very first time he’d offered to teach her what he knew. Fighting with him was like—oh, she didn’t know. No—she did know. It was like dancing, knowing where your partner would be in the next breath and being thrilled when you found them there nonetheless. 

“Yes,” she said, and reached up to unclasp her cloak. It fell heavy over the visitor’s chair. Wen backed up, giving herself space. The anger unwound itself into a beautiful, bright line; her scattered thoughts pulled themselves into one cohesive whole. 

“I thought you might find the idea enticing.”

Zevran shifted to his right and Arianwen paced him until they circled each other on the empty patch of floor. There was little warning when he struck—just the faintest tensing of the muscles in his legs. Wen saw it anyway, and was moving before he could connect. She knew his body almost better than she knew her own, had fought beside him more than any other. 

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