#dragon age dwc

[bluewren]

Happy DADWC Wren! Gimme a job that the Chargers took part in, using this DA Lore prompt: "In the Mists: The Windline Marcher. A ghost ship." Because Bull freaking out on a ghost ship sounds hilarious.

THANK YOU FOR THIS PROMPT! It's been so much fun to write. @dadrunkwriting wc: 3521, a hefty one.

Lex has heard every story about the Windline Marcher. When he worked for the Kirkwall Merchant Guide, everyone had a bet placed on what was carried by that ship. Jerrik thinks it's cursed gold that some sailor tried to mutiny and sail away with. Korpin is adamant that it's Antivan sex toys, her explanation, 'Antivans are strange creatures.' Lex has no actual coin on that wager though. He was surprise to find Korpin at Skyhold, working as a direct lyrium trading line for the Inquisition. They chatted on a few occasions, Lex even mentioned this job the Chargers are sent to do. She's still betting on sex toys.

There's been rumors that the ship is now appearing more frequently. Hurricane season is more intense this year than others. With the intrusion of red lyrium and rifts into Thedas, Minaeve and the Helisma have been looking through the weather data to see if it affected the weather in any way. Their recent findings have uncovered an unlikely connection, there are mana streams resonating out like an inverted whirlpool. It overlaps with sightings of the Windline Marcher. The researchers considered it one mystery solved and were ready to move on, but then a large sum of money gets dangled in front of the treasury. A nobleman caught news of their findings.

They promised funding for the Inquisition if they captured the Windline Marcher for him. With sparkles in her eyes, Josephine sent the Chargers to do the job. The main forces are with his sister fighting Red Templars, and he's out here adding a vanity piece to a nobleman's collection. This has to be most self flagellating job he’s been on.

The Chargers and the researchers get shoved onto a longboat and sail for the Windline Marcher. They needed Minaeve and Helisma there to correct course on the ship when if the mana changed its concentration. The Chargers mages are pushing the sails with magic, the winds are harrowing and unpredictable during the hurricane season. Every hand needed to be on deck in case something goes astray. It's been trial keeping their boat in the right direction, the storms have been thrashing them in all directions and the swaying has made steadying themselves difficult. Lex would rather let the Windline Marcher stay as one of Thedas's great mysteries, happily so… If only a certain nobleman hadn't offered the Inquisition enough gold to feed the troops for a year.

But even the most jaded of sellswords have to admire how uncanny it is to actually see the ghost ship up close. It has two masts that still stand and fluttering, though the heavy wind seems to have stopped. From his cursory glance, the ship's strutting and placement of rivets look significantly less intricate than their third of the size boat they ride on. Taliesen can probably gosh over all the exact little design details, but isn't here to do so.

The most eerie feature is the glow the ship has. Not a trace of mildew or seaweed growing on its hull, it has the look of never being seaborne. Whatever secrets it holds, it hides them well.

The Chargers begin their plan to scale the ship, beginning shooting grappling hooks tied to crossbows.

"I finally understand why he wanted it so badly." Dalish remarks, she stretches in place to prepare for the jump.

Lex merely shrugs, keeping his attention on aiming. "I'd still much rather throw a fireball at its hull and call it lost."

Lex, Krem, and Skinner are first to ascend the ship, checking that it's safe for everyone else to enter. They arrive to a deck as empty and as clean as the hull, they drop done the rope and ladder for the rest of the Chargers. Minaeve and Helisma stay on the longboat, if the Chargers get overwhelmed they will have the best chance to leave and tell what happened.

Bull is the last to ascend, he immediately starts shivering as soon as both feet meet the wood.

"Alright Chargers! Dalish and Lex stay top side, everyone else begin searching the ship." Iron Bull commands, he speaks with a bold voice and hiding his fear admirably well. "If you see any dead shit in the rooms, tell the mages immediately."

We all knew the captain is pissed scared and had a quiet chuckle to ourselves, but everyone followed and got to work.

The big qunari can still be seen teetering his feet at the front of the ship when we left.

"It's hard to believe we're barely half a days trip from Kirkwall." Commenting as his eyes stayed trained on the horizon. "You can still see hightown. Have you noticed yet, that the sun isn't in the right spot?"

Lex smirks, their captain is clearly trying to distract himself. "You know if we get lost out here, there'd be no way to send people to reach us."

"Lex! I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to scare the piss out of your captain." He furrows his brow, his voice sounding parched. "Get back to your patrol before I make you scrub our whole living quarters with your hairbrush."

Worth every bit of that reprimand.

"Point taken." Lex backs away, leaving with a big smile.

Top deck guard duty has been the most uneventful part of the job, the horizon as calm as a summer hiking day. The sun highest in the sky, and not one drop of salt water on the wood. Anywhere else they would lie down to take in the sun, though knowing that the hurricane that they pushed through to get here, they're likely in the eye of the storm.

The one peculiar sight they can find is that the ship's wheel seems to be missing, no sign of it ever being mounted on its base.

"Another 'wierd shit' job to tell Varric." Lex side eyes the missing wheel. "What's your take on this?"

Dalish shrugs. "Always so negative. Maybe the sailors whacked the wheel off with a stick."

"Sure. Sure. Probably knocked off with a bow too. Not like we already know this boat is cursed."

"They could have knocked it off to protect everyone on land."

"Always the optimist." Lex chuckles, he stretches out his stiffening shoulders. "But you do know that a spirit wouldn't need a wheel to steer the boat."

"Shush now." Dalish smirks, giving him a swift slap on the shoulder. "You should try hoping for things to go better, it’s possible."

It didn't take long for the rest of the Chargers to resurface. They needed the mages to burn away some corpses before they can turn undead. Stitches and Rocky staying topside, this time.

"I'm surprised you're coming downstairs with us." Lex says, trying to not giggle.

"I wouldn't much of a leader if I let my band do most of the fighting due to some demons." Bull grumbles, he still steadfast in drawing his axe.

"I never count the Iron Bull out of a good fight."

Everyone started with slow tiptoe steps into the lower deck. The scouting group has already informed everyone of the suffocating air below, feeling more alive than up top.

The floorboards creaks in ripples in the water, repeating like a pulse. Nothing aligning with their steps. It's difficult to tell the direction of the sounds.

"Through there. Be ready."

Krem leads us the first right door, immediately Lex, Dalish, and Bull winced. Though there is no smell, a few skeletons laid in this room. Decayed to nothing, not even a smell nor untarnished rags, there is nothing to identify them.

Lex feels the goosebumps rising up his neck, he didn't move any closer.

"Everyone, cover your noses or get clear." He raises his palm to set the bones ablaze.

It'd be pointless to recover anything from their bodies, now four centuries lost. There priority is to stop any demon possession from happening. If the Chargers get careless, then this will be their fate.

"Everyone doing good?" He asks.

"Swell." Krem replies, though clearly close to gagging.

Lex closes the door, ready to be rid of this room too.

"I hate to wonder how they passed on." Dalish sighs, lowering her palm with a flame still contained. "Some of them look at peace."

"You've noticed that too?" Lex raises his brows. "Everything's awfully neat for boat caught in a storm."

"Be on your guard, but try not to worry." Bull hushes."Focus on the bodies, us with blades will keep you two safe."

Both mages nodded, they split into two teams to check the next set of doors. Grim and Skinner follow behind Lex, exploring a supply room inside the ship. The creaking comes from this room too. The shelves still holds the former crew's rations, but not enough to rattle loudly. It's difficult to determine if there is an origin at all.

"Check this." Skinner snatchs a bottle. "Don't think anyone has Antivan vintage this rare."

"Who'd want to drink wine from a ghost ship?"

"It could still be good for a fire." Skinner adds.

Lex chuckles, somehow Skinner always comes up with the most amusing ideas.

They find more bodies on the far side of the room, leaving it to Lex throws another fireball at them.

After the bodies are burnt through, they hear a loud cracking sound coming from the wall they learned on.

"Pass me the bottle." Lex trains his eyes at that wall.

He throws the wine, a fireball ignites it. The fire should have spread to the walls, but it does not take. His flames smothering when meeting the wall, it let's free a grumbling. The owners clearly didn't like someone setting their home on fire.

Grim grumbles, disapprovingly.

"Think you made this it mad.” Skinner chuckles.

“What?” Lex raises a brow. “You would have done something different.”

“No. No.” She shakes her head. “I would have done the same thing.”

Lex snorts, somehow they've always been of the same mind.

The three are ready to leave this miserable room and rejoin the rest of their companions. Likely they'll want to know about the sound.

"Shit!" Bull is the first to run for answers, almost snapping Lex's back when demanding them. "Did you hear that sound? It sounded like a roar, ship's shouldn't be roaring?"

"Calm down. We all knew this ship wasn't normal, we needed to get out in the open."

The roar comes again from he far side of the hold, a hand constructed of stone reaches forward. The demons haunting this ship takes the form of golem, summoning more of its kind to push out it's intruders. Skeletons come from the rooms they hadn't checked, one of them wields a scimitar with a jewel and gold encrusted hilt. That's likely the former captain.

Worse yet is the swords flying free from the rooms they burned the corpses from, wielded by spirits taking the impression of humans. Their work has been shown fruitless, the demons have a liking for hosts without a pulse.

Atleast the monsters finally decided to come out of the shadows.

"Shit!"

Bull finally lets free of Lex's collar. He frantically begins hacking at the floating swords.

The abstract forms of the possessed swords fall easily, one strike from Bull's wide swing is all it takes to smother their connection to Thedas. Though their severed connection reestablish fast, another spirit pushes through the Veil and picks the sword back up.

Worse are the foes with more solid forms, slowly close the distance. The amorphous spirits were little trouble for their blades, the skeletons have an unnatural strength to them. Skinner dashes to cut more holes through their tattered leather armor, she is pinned to a wall when the demons lunges its bones in her direction.

Krem is close enough to shield bash the demon away.

The tight corridors give little room to maneuver, one misstep and the demons will overwhelm us. And will have even less room as the golem closes the distance.

“Bull!” Lex shouts, his blade sets ablaze surrounding spirits. ”We can’t stay here.”

“Bah!” Bull growls, his swinging gets his axe stuck to a wall. “We need more room. Everyone get upstairs!”

The Chargers retreated, Lex needing to run his blade through a skeleton blocking Grim from leaving. The whole team is able to see daylight, though the demons are close behind.

“Rocky! Clear the tunnels.” Bull commands.

When the last of the Chargers is safe enough distance, Rocky drops an explosive through the door. There is a bout of clattering and clinks from flying swords, it worked to clear some of their foes. It wasn’t enough to finish them off, the same roar from below deck is heard again.

The golem reaches out, it’s stone hands pull the rest of itself through the door. A scattering of spirits and skeletons follow behind.

Another bomb would have cleared them, but the golem is smart enough to use its giant body to shield its friends.

We continue our skirmish, the demons using the same strategy as before. It’s an effective one, the spirits are plentiful and cutting one down isn’t enough to stop the weapon from being reused. While the skeletons wait for the moment when fatigue sets in.

They’re now losing daylight with little to show of their battle.

“This isn’t working.” Bull grimaces, holding back a skeleton.

“Got any better ideas, Chief?” Krem shouts, striking down a few more spirits down. “Would be open to a Chargers high roller.”

“Just one. The golem is probably in charge. Get Lex and Rocky to it, blow up its head.”

"Got it." Lex and Rocky dash for the golem, the other Chargers clearing the path for them.

Grim and Skinner cut down the spirits in front. Krem and Stitches raise their shields, blocking the skeletons from reaching the runners.

"Dalish!" The mage pulls up icewalls, they have a direct line to the golem now.

The last thing that is now between them and the demon is the captain's skeleton, pointing its decorated sword at them.

Lex kicks up a fire jet, dropping his sword on the skeleton.

Rocky has his opening to throw his bomb in. After his sword runs through the skeleton, Lex sidestep to ignite the bomb with his fire magic. The explosion is massive, enough to cause Lex's ears to ring but it is able to crack the golem.

The demon is extricated from its homely pile of rocks, now fluttering for safety and something new to latch onto in the physical world. It make haste for Bull, the sudden flash scaring the piss out of the qunari. But for some unknowable reason, it flies past the horns and into his axe…

"Shit!"

The Iron Bull breaks into a cold sweat, his weapon uncontrollably flailing at the rest of the Chargers and too mortified to let go of his grip.

"It's got my axe!" Bull heaves, hiccuping every time the axehead drops. "Shit. It's on the tip of my blade! Its got a mind of its own! Help! Help!"

It's rare for demons to act like this much of a nuisance. Lex dashes under Bull's shadow, readying himself for the axe to land over him. He prepares a telekinetic spell for that exact moment, enough to knock it into the opposite direction.

"Let go!" He commands his captain, throwing his spell when safest.

The axe flung backwards, through the air, into the sea. Ridiculously, it still isn't enough to stomp the demon. The possessed axe gathers a watersprout. The long neck spreads out and freezing over into scales with a reptilian head enveloping the axe. A sea serpent, it's like an ex that won't leave you alone.

The boat starts to tumble, shaking like it's falling. Everyone tripping and losing their footing, head first onto the floor. It's likely that this boat dropped into the water, probably the first time the boat has actually been seaborne in years.

"This fucking demon really needs to die." Lex coughs, completely exasperated by their foe. "Bull, do you need my weapon?"

"I liked that axe, first time I had one perfectly balanced." Bull growls, seeming more angry than frightened now. "Thanks. Appreciate it. You never quite see a demons this tenacious, I'm wringing its neck."

Angry is not the right word. To be exact, he's got a hard on for fighting a sea serpent. Lex hands over his sword, Bull revels in this moment. Although he now needs a new weapon, he remembers the possessed ship captain carried an elegant one.

A scimitar, gem encrusted, more fashion piece than tool, that'll be the one. Lex finds it amongst the bones, picking up and igniting it with his fire magic. He's now ready for this grand final hunt, but not without some censorious looks from the others.

"You couldn't have set something else on fire?" Bull narrows his eyes. "Something more practical. Less lavish."

"We're moments from taking on a giant water lizard, why worry about ruining an expensive sword?" Lex trains his wicked grin at the giant beast. "It's much more fun this way."

"Can't say I disagree." Bull chuckles, he takes stance to point Lex’s sword. "Chargers! Go for its head, knock that thing back into the sea."

The sea serpent summons tentacles to defend itself, made the same way that its body was. The ice is made resilient by the magic, the Chargers hacking away at the appendages barely cut through them. By Dalish’s fire magic, she’s able to soften them enough to amputate. Lex’s flaming sword sword has been able to do similar, although one clumsy slash is enough to flash melt the ice.

It’s enough to splat his eyes, momentarily blinding him. He gets slapped down to the deck by one of its tentacles, striking with enough force to fling him to railing.

While picking himself up, he notices the rattling of their grapples hooks attached to the ship. He peaks over the edge to find that the researchers and ship captain are in a struggle with shades as well. He hacks off the hooks, freeing their longboat.

"Get to safety!" Lex shouts to them.

The Chargers will have to win against this demon to get home. At least now, they only need to worry for themselves.

“Bull, get me to its head.” Lex huffs.

The battle is now taking the air out of him.

“Gladly.” Bull nods, his axe slices through another of its icy tentacles.

The Chargers attack the neck. Fire weakening the ice, arrows chipping it away. Whenever close enough, the warriors swing their swords at it. It lets out meager scream unlike its earlier form. Eventually the head slumps itself enough for Lex to reach.

He puts the last of might into the fire enchantment. His scimitar’s blade becomes indistinguishable from starlight as it cuts through the serpent’s head. The demon’s head falls backwards, finally losing the will to fight. Its ice shatters, finally dropping the possessed axe into the sea.

The battle is finally over, and Lex is ready to vomit.

“Strange that after all that work, it’s our boat tugging us back to land.” Lex remarks.

“We are still missing the wheel to steer the ship.” Dalish adds.

“This boat’s old.” Bull points out. “It’s much faster to have our’s do the heavy lifting. The masts catch more wind.”

All the ship's anomalies have vanished, the demon probably took all its mana back when forming the sea serpent.

“Fair point.” Lex is finally able to kick his feet up, though Stitches keeps a watchful eye on his bandages after getting thrown by the sea serpent.

The Charger’s job is finished, but the researchers are still busy on their work. Studying the clouds, measuring wind speed, gathering data. It’s perfect time to learn more about weather patterns in this part of the sea.

“I’m glad you two are unharmed.” Lex waves to the researchers.

“Thank you for helping us when you did.” Minaeve grins back, her head seems stuck in her notebook. “And I’m grateful for you and Helisma.”

Lex turns his head to Minaeve’s companion, the tranquil?

“The demons avoided Helisma, she’s the one to guide our boat to safety.”

“Have you found anything interesting?” Lex asks.

He has trouble, shaking the feeling of being perturbed though he still has gratitude to the other researcher helping the Chargers.

“Something, yes.” Helisma nods, pointing out to the sea. “I spotted the glow of a unusually large lyrium deposit when we ran. We can’t be certain, but it’s possibly how the demon had so much control over this ship.”

“That’s certainly interesting.” Lex asks, wide eyed. “Is there anything more that we can learn?”

“Again, there’s no way to be certain. The demon is gone, its host sank to the bottom of the ocean and the deposit is too far out to excavate. We can only theorize.”

Lex sighs, it’s expected though dismal that there isn’t any good answers for this headache of a job. Still there is one last mystery that needs answering, Korpin wants her answers.

He makes his way to the hold again.

[shouldaspunastory]

Thank you @broodsys! @dadrunkwriting

This might be wildly out OOC once we get more details or the game drops, but Emmrich Volkarian has bewitched me body and soul, and I love and have already drawn and begun collecting headcanons and lore for my Rook that is going to woo/be wooed and marry the gentleman necromancer. Hope you enjoy.

Emmrich Volkarin x Tobias Rook (SFW, Pre-relationship, pining. 1192 words) ------------------

The thing of it is, Emmrich is far more accustomed to dealing with the dead, isn’t he? Skeletons, in particular. Nevarra may be a warm enough clime, but the necromancer knows the cool, stale air of the Necropolis and his study filled with bones, old tomes, parchment, ink, and the scent of his favorite teas far better than that of the sun and bustling markets miles above. What he knows of the living- aside from that of a few colleagues- is primarily of their connections to and beliefs surrounding death and what rites should follow. Anything outside of that, well, it is largely theoretical. That’s never troubled him before. That it should do so now, so late in life, is… unexpected, to say the least.

And Tobias Rook is… warm, bright, and more alive than anyone Emmrich has even known. A series of utterly baffling and delightful contradictions Emmrich could spend the rest of his life puzzling over and never entirely figure out. Exactly the kind of challenge, the sort of puzzle, he adores. He adores them, a realization that had shaken him to his very core. They make Emmrich feel more alive than he has in years, and, somehow, both younger and older at the same time, makes their heart stop and race. It’s probably a lucky thing he’s already gone gray, or some of their more reckless antics would almost certainly inspire some new ones. They’ve come away from today’s battle on a little more bruised and worse for wear, but the mage is well aware how easily it might have been otherwise.

“Do you ever think about it,” Emmrich asks when he and Rook are finishing an evening cup of tea, the rest of their companions having already turned in for the night. Given his area of expertise, and the odds of what they’re up against it seems prudent to ask. Truthfully, it seems almost shamefully neglectful he’s not done so before now.

“What’s that?”

“Death. What comes after. What rites you would like others to perform for you,” the necromancer prompts, but Rook shakes their head.

“Not as often as you, I suspect,” Rook replies with a soft, amused chuckle, then, sobering a little, mulls the question over in order to give him a more serious response.

Rook does that a lot. They are playful- albeit sometimes a bit irreverent soul. But they never shame or discourage Emmrich when he spirals into an impromptu lecture about his latest studies or curiosities, even when they don’t entirely understand them, they ask him questions and do their best to provide him both with humor, and thoughtful responses in equal measure.

Emmrich is used to being the butt of a fair number of jokes over the years, not that he’s ever paid those much mind, but Rook is inexplicably far more interested in making him laugh than laughter at his expense. Where some of his colleagues and acquaintances over the years deemed him peculiar, even somehow vaguely off-putting for being so committed and interested in his grim work, Rook consistently seeks out his company, praises and seems to admire his passion, even if they don’t share it for the same things.

“I don’t want or need any pomp or circumstance, and I’d hate to think the last thing I ever did was inconvenience my friends. I don’t know for certain what comes after, but I don’t believe I’ll be needing my body for it. Whatever is easiest, does the least damage- to your purses- that’s what I want.”

Emmrich frowns thoughtfully. It’s not that he expects Rook to share his exact views on death, their answer is a pragmatic one, but hearing them speak with so little reverence for their body and its care after death- a body he’s come to… appreciate since first they met- is difficult for him to reconcile.

“I never-“ but Rook cuts themselves short, biting their tongue, and taking a sip of their tea to give them a moment’s pause. “I’ve never cared if anyone knew my name,” they continue finally, refining the thought as they set their cup of tea back on its saucer. “That was never why I joined up with the Shadow Dragons, and it’s not why I’m doing this now.” Emmrich nods as they continue.

“I don’t care if the world knows my name. I’ve never needed that. I just want to matter to someone… one person to remember me- even if that memory fades with the two of us. If it was the right one, that would be enough,” Rook concludes. This is a sentiment Emmrich can understand, and one he shares. He sighs softly, a little wistful. Were he a younger man…

“For what it’s worth, Little Bird, I know I’m not the right one, but I could live a thousand lives and never forget you. I don’t know how anyone could.” Rook draws in a shallow breath, pupils blown wide as they try to meet Emmrich’s eyes which are suddenly rigidly fixed upon the floor in front of them.

“Why not,” Rook asks softly. These words catch the necromancer by surprise if the way his head shoots up at their question is any indication.

‘What?”

“Why not you,” Rook repeats, their voice is soft, almost like speaking too loudly will shatter whatever this strange, beautiful, and fragile moment between them is. Perhaps it will. Emmrich’s throat feels dry, despite the tea, tighter than it had a moment before. Were it not for the way it hammers against his ribs, quite as if it wishes to escape the confines of its bone prison to reach them, Emmrich would swear his heart has stopped.

“I wouldn’t mind if it was you,” Rook admits, suddenly uncharacteristically shy. “I, um, I’d really like that, actually,” they confess softly.

Their cheeks are flush, Emmrich thinks, unable to do anything for a moment but to gape at them. Full of blood, of life, warmth, their eyes full of light, of nerves, yes, but also, hope, a tenderness he’s seen before now, but clearly not for all that it was. They bite their lip and Emmrich realizes he’s been silent, lost in his swirling thoughts, for too long. His gloved hand gently clasps one of their hands, his thumb finding Rook’s pulse and caressing the inside of their wrist. Their heartbeat more akin to a hummingbird than their namesake, but precious all the same. I’ve done that, Emmrich marvels, cool fingers of his bare hand reaching out to rescue their bottom lip, bangles on his arm tingling softly, joining the symphony of his quickly beating heart and shallow breaths.

“Are you sure,” Emmrich asks, words scarcely louder than a whisper, but needing to offer them one last out.

“Please,” Rook nods, and Emmrich doesn’t keep them waiting, fingers moving to card through their hair before coming to cradle the back of their head as his lips meet theirs in a kiss of infinite care and patience, as though the pair have all the time in the world, and he, can think of nothing better to do with that time than this. And just now, he can’t.

[compendiumcal]

Come and join the Denerim Writer's Cafe!

Status: Currently open for new members! Must be 21+ to join.

Addendum: Due to security and comfort reasons, the server is now invite-only but you are free to DM me for an invite!

What is the Denerim Writer's Cafe you might ask? It's a Dragon Age discord server for writers, artists, readers and fans of the series in general. As the name might imply we do put more of an emphasis on the "writing/fanfic" aspect of creating art for this series but it's open to all. We're a small, chill group that love sharing tidbits about our OCs and things we're excited about writing or working on in the coming future.

We place a strong emphasis on interactivity and greatly encourage everyone in the server to engage with and learn about each other's OCS and fics. We plan to keep the server on the smaller side so once we reach capacity we'll be closing the server but for now we are open and ready to meet you!

[shouldaspunastory]

I will be participating and accepting new prompts again this evening! Feel free to spam the inbox. Happy Friday everyone! ^_^

DWC: Team Americas/Aus/Asia Head Count!

Tagged Writers,

Please reply to this post from your writing blog by 4:00pm PST (7:00pm EST) if you would like to participate tonight!

Writing will ONLY be reblogged if posted ON FRIDAY (or in the wee hours of Saturday morning)

If you have questions about DADWC, check out our FAQ here! You can also send questions to any of our friendly admins:

Team NA: @dreadfutures | @inquisimer Team Europe: @pinkfadespirit | @highwayphantoms

Other Info:

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Thank you! <3

@about2dance @blarrghe @bluewren @breninarthur @broodwolf221

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[dreadfutures]

Rules: If you’re tagged, MAKE A NEW POST to showcase one fanartist and/or fanfic for any fandom you recommend (with links), and tag someone to give their recs next! Don’t forget to reblog the rec you were tagged in, and include these rules! :)

Bonus: Choose works by people you aren’t super tight with, or choose older works that maybe haven’t gotten some love in a while. :)

Today I'm featuring some bite sized fanfics -- mostly from an event I volunteer with called the Dragon Age Drunk Writing Circle @dadrunkwriting:

Drunk Writing Circle is a Friday night event in which writers from all corners of the fandom and the world get together on Tumblr, prompt one another, and write Dragon Age fanfiction in a low stakes, inclusive, and all-around fun environment.

You can check out the updated FAQ for more info. (Drinking is optional!)

For now, here are some old favorites from my peers! They are all very small little ficlets hosted right here on tumblr!

In no particular order:

Fanfic

“look at me. you’re gonna be okay.” by @contreparry

Author's note: Here’s some Anders and Merrill blossoming friendship for @dadrunkwriting because I never cared for the canon antagonistic relationship so now I get to play around with it here!

Merrill brings Anders a patient in his clinic!

Fanfic

"you don't have to pretend with me" by @noire-pandora

I have always loved the teasing and camaraderie that Elluin and Solas have <3 Their banter is great and I love noire's writing.

Fanfic

"The comfortable chaos between" by @contreparry

Dorian and Solas rivalry and friendship is some of my favorite content to read. Here they are shooting barbs at each other as they sort through the library.

Fanfic

confessions of a teacher's pet by @shift-shaping

So this is actually a whole SERIES of DWC fills by shift-shaping with Professor!Solas and student!Surana and I ate ALL OF THEM UP as soon as I found them. student/prof is not usually on my menu but I loved every single little bit that shift-shaping wrote. This is one of my favorites, where Surana gives a presentation and Solas meets up with her afterward ;)

@shift-shaping also has several in-universe fics such as THE LIONESS AND THE WOLF (Surana/Solas):

In the foreground of history was Ozeni Adaar, proud leader of the shining Inquisition. Behind her, a former hero and a lost god found solace in each other.

Fanfic

"Anything else?" by @thevikingwoman

OKAY TECHNICALLY this one isn't for DWC but same idea sort of! Viking wrote this for an august writing challenge but all of viking's iwyn/solas modern au stuff just reels me in time after time.

On a solo vacation to fancy Arlathan resort, Iwyn is immediately attracted to the handsome bartender. She decides to be a little selfish.

And there are my recs for this week!

I'm tagging:

@heniareth | @kiastirling-fanfic | @inquisimer | @rosella-writes | @plisuu

@thebookworm0001 | @oopsallmabari | @galadae | @hanhula | @knightdawn

@shift-shaping | @stonebiscuit | @anneapocalypse | @idolsgf | @drakonovisny

[commanderbragh]

DWC 2023 Day 2: Beachhead (Success)

“Alright everyone, listen up!”

Banagan straightened up as the sergeant began calling out instructions. He quickly glanced at Skold standing beside him, the Drakthyr intently paying attention to the veteran soldier.

“Earlier groups have already established the beachhead. Our job is to go help secure their perimeter and root out any allies of that fel blasted dragon. Orders are to take them alive, if possible.”

“Why not just kill them?” 

Banagan turned to look at one of the mercenaries that had volunteered for the group. He was a middle-aged man in armor that showed a lot of wear. He looked at one of his friends with a grin and said something quietly enough that Banny couldn’t hear him.

“Because those are not our orders. Do you understand, or are you such a moron that I need to find that can translate common into stupid?” The sergeant stared at the mercenary. He started to say something in return but his friend punched him in the arm. A scowl started to play across his face, but disappeared as quickly once he realized that the sergeant’s look had only darkened. The mercenary looked away, but the sergeant continued to stare for a few moments longer, making everyone uncomfortable.

“We are there to secure the area. That is all. If you cannot handle that, if you have dreams of glory, if you suffer from delusions of grandeur, then I suggest you step out right now and find some other troop.” The sergeant scanned the group of people, daring someone to interrupt him again. Banagan watched without a word, though his own thoughts were racing at this point.

“Controlling the beachhead is the first step. That is our part of the job. We do that and we’re one step closer to success. One step closer to saving Azeroth.”

Again, Banny thought to himself with a slight grin.

@daily-writing-challenge

[seigephoenix]

Dragon Age DWC Masterpost

Here is my new post for Dragon Age Drunk Writing Circle.  I realize with so many prompts it could be a little overwhelming to choose just one.  So I am going to post which two I’m interested in writing from for the week.  I will also post up the ships that have me in brain rot for the week as well. Hopefully this helps a lot!

I have compiled all of my DADWC writing into four posts. One for each game.

Origins Dragon Age II Inquisition Veilguard

I've been wanting to write smut again so there are some smut prompts + my Kinktober list from last year. If you're not wanting to send smut in, i have some SFW prompts too on here.

After they Kiss Date Prompts

NSFW Prompts. (For Kinktober just send in the prompt + ship you'd like to see. I may not get it done on Friday but it will be published)

Pillow Talk Kinktober

I'd really like to get back into writing smut again, so here are some ships that I haven't written smut for yet. Well, smut that has been published here on Tumblr or AO3. XD Max Amell/Morrigan Jacek Thorn/Lace Harding Asala/Neve Gallus Mariposa de Riva/Lucanis Dellamorte

[ladynorbert]

If any of my DA pals are doing DWC tomorrow and feel like shooting a tiny bit of otp happiness in my direction, I would be tremendously grateful because 1) @sunny-stories desperately needs content and 2) this was bar none the most difficult holiday season I’ve ever had.

[hunnybadgerv]

happy friday and happy dadwc!! could we see some cousland x nathaniel howe, perhaps with "Inglenook - A cozy nook by the hearth" from the English word prompts?

Summary: Nathaniel lets his mind run off with him.

a/n: The prompt Inglenook—a cozy nook by the hearth was sent to me by @a-song-in-the-stillness for my Cousland and Nathaniel Howe. This was sent for the @dadrunkwriting—I’ve toyed with writing this pairing for a while. I’ve written him and Cousland in a few times but never really focused on a single target for her identity. At least until now. This was not at all what I was intending when this started—really thought it would be fluff or something a little bawdy.

Inglenook

Nathaniel stared at the heart of the fire, where red coals peeked out amongst the dark shadows in the fuel. He plucked absently at a fold in the material folded at his knee. His mind raced. He never set out to invade her privacy. Just moved the papers off the blankets. But he couldn’t get the words he saw out of his head. She’d described them as whispers from a nightmare.

“Return to me my children. Bring the strongest into the darkness. Offer them to my service.”

It didn’t seem too horrible, until he swept up the next slip of parchment bearing only two words and a question mark—the calling?

Like every Warden, he knew the stories. The seneschal was a trove of information that he did not mind sharing. Some of the others, visitors from other orders would offer stories for the younger and newer Wardens of Ferelden. He knew what the words meant, and since finding them in her hand with franticly scrawled ominous phrases, he could not keep his mind from darting into the darkness looming at the edge of his mind.

He’d only just found her. Even so, he knew he could not lose her. Not yet.

The chair with its wings and high back enclosed him from the rest of the world, offered him a private nook where he could rest his chin in his hand and contemplate what he’d found, what he didn’t want to face.

She hadn’t been a Warden that much longer than he had. Surely, it couldn’t happen so quickly. He felt nothing at all. Sure there were nightmares, but no illusions or voices invading his mind.

Could it just be her? Why? Could it be the archdemon she’d killed? Perhaps dispatching one came with more dangers than just fire, teeth, and claws?

He lowered his head and sighed, pressing his fingers over his forehead. With the connection of a boot with the leg of his chair, his gaze shot up and to the right.

Her soft smile greeted him. She looked exhausted. Her wet hair dangling over her shoulder told him she’d bathed and come in search of him.

Palm up, he laid his hand over the arm of the chair. She slipped her hand into his. He tugged gently and she  shifted from the wooden seat in the nook beside him. He welcomed her into his lap, slipping his arms around her—one around her waist, the other over her thighs, keeping her close. He buried his face in the curve of her shoulder, inhaling deeply.

The barest hint of lavender clung to her skin. His eyes slipped closed breathing her in as long as she allowed him to.

“Hiding?” she asked.

“Just thinking,” he mumbled into her linen shirt.

“Anything I should be concerned about?” she whispered, her lips at the crown of his head.

He pressed his face against her more fully, breathing her in again, filling his lungs with her scent before he leaned his head back against into her hand. “I could ask you the same.”

Maybe it was the look in his eyes, maybe something in his voice he didn’t mean to include. Her eyes moved over him, narrowing. Then her brow drew together. He watched her face demonstrate the tracks her mind took. “Explain, please.”

Nathaniel licked his lips slowly, biding his time. He tugged his bottom lip from between his teeth. His fingertips traced small circles against the side of her thigh. He didn’t want to admit it. Even if it hadn’t been intentional he’d read her private writings. He didn’t know how she might react, not that he could fault her if she ended up being upset with him.

“Nathaniel.” The softness in her voice soothed him as her hand brushed along the edge of his jaw, raising his face to the study of her keen eyes.

He didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want to see the care drain from her eyes when he said it. So closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. “I found your notes from this morning. Read them.”

She said nothing. Her fingertips traced over his brow, as if she waited for him to look at her again. “And that is the reason you’re hold up in this corner of the library?”

He nodded once.

Her finger traced just above his eyebrow once more, dipping into his hair. “Is it also the reason you won’t look at me?”

“They were your private things.” He finally opened his gray eyes again. The fact that she remained in his lap quieted some of the doubts he’d harbored about how she could react.

“I would have secured them if I was worried about anyone seeing them, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps. Or you might just trust that the person who whispered promises might not be so bold as to intrude.”

Her amused smile made her eyes glitter in the firelight. “By your description, I seem like quite a secretive and vindictive woman. Is that really how you see me?” The backs of her fingers glided along the length of his neck.

“Well, you can be both of those things.”

Her hand stopped and flattened on his shoulder.

“I know you track your dreams. I’ve woken to you scratching away notes often enough to surmise you must be keeping records of the nightmares. And I’ve heard enough of the stories to be aware of the Calling. Are you … ?” His throat closed up on him before he could get the question out of his mouth.

A way of relief seemed to wash over her. She rested her forehead against his. “No. At least not yet.”

He swallowed down the lump blocking his throat and pressed his forehead against hers as he pulled her a little closer.

“Is that what you were thinking?”

Silently, he nodded.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to inspire any worry.”

“Was that from one of your dreams?”

She shook her head against his. “Notes I made yesterday and stuffed in my pocket.”

“By the Maker.”

“You should have asked me.”

“Probably.”

“Why didn’t you?” she asked, her question quiet, swirled between them.

Nathaniel’s hand tightened on her thigh. “I didn’t want to know I was losing you so soon.”

“Not a chance. You’re stuck with me.”

“Threaten me,” he taunted.

He stretched up just enough to seal his mouth to hers. Nathaniel tried to pour every ounce of his relief and the other things he couldn’t quite find words for into his kiss. He needed her to know that being stuck with her was precisely what he wanted, now and for as long as he could imagine. Even though some of his worry abated, there was still a twinge in the back of his heart. This conversation would happen again; he knew.

The Calling would come for them both. It would rip her from his embrace, and he would witness it. Never could he allow her to take that final patrol alone. He’d be at her side.

His hand went to the back of her neck to keep her lips on his until his mind played out the thoughts lingering there. Tears burned his cheeks at the image that sprang into his head. He wanted it gone. Tried to blank his mind, or remember the way she’d been looking at him just now, but all he could see was her face distroted and discolored. Dark circles swallowing her periwinkle eyes and hollowing her round cheeks.

Even her warm hands on his face couldn’t chase the haunting image from his mind. And he kissed her harder, like it might be the last time he’d ever get the privilege.

“Nate,” she gasped on a breath before his lips were on hers again.

His frenzy only halted when she escaped his lap, finding it to be the only way to get enough space between them to calm the fury in his kisses.

She brushed her hand over his cheek. Both of them breathed heavily, but neither looked away. “I know.” He could see it in the way she looked at him. Her hand covered his entire cheek, her thumb traced over his brow. “I know,” she whispered.

Her eyes moved over his face, as he pressed her hand more firmly against his face. She stepped between his knees, her other hand brushing his dark hair off his forehead. “That’s what I’m looking for.”

His brow drew together.

“A way to end the Calling,” she added.

“Is that even possible?”

“I don’t know. Can’t hurt to try.”

For the first time since the morning, Nathaniel let a smile cross his face, a genuine smile. “No it can’t.”

[inquisimer]

wip wednesday

i was tagged by the lovely @dreadfutures (hello and thank youuuu🥰🥰) 

sending tags to @nirikeehan and @imperatrixvini, if you’re so inclined<3

anyway, the acacia x cullen verse that’s been collecting dust in my google docs for months bit me out of nowhere this week - it’s all I’ve worked on other than stories of thedas, so here’s some of that!

~~~~

Word eventually came that the Herald had been successful on the Storm Coast. A mercenary company was on their way to Haven, though Drew and his companions were making a detour through the Fallow Mire before their return. 

For her part, Acacia was ready for her brother to come back. Even if it meant doing a lot of damage control with the ambassador.

“Does he think our coffers are endless? If I hadn’t specifically written him that you were taking over the books, I’d think he was doing it to torture me.”

“He might be doing it to torture me,” Acacia offered. “How would your siblings react if they couldn’t give you shit for a couple decades or so?”

“Poorly,” Josephine snorted. “They make frequent trips to ensure it does not happen.” 

The scratching of their quills filled the silence for a few minutes, until it was properly broken by the distant sound of the horns. Acacia hardly paused in her figuring; Josephine was correct, of course. The money flowed out much faster than it came in. It would take the ambassador’s silver tongue and probably promises of bigger returns in the future to ensure these mercenaries didn’t turn tail and find richer clients elsewhere.

Someone knocked on the office door.

“Enter,” called Josephine.

It swung open and Acacia stiffened as a soft, familiar, Tevene accent filled the room.

“I’m looking for Lady Montilyet? Our company just arrived—”

“Ah yes.” Josephine rose with a gracious smile, as if they hadn’t been bemoaning the recruitment just a moment earlier. Her heels clicked against the wood, then stopped as she sketched a bow for their guest. “Please allow me to extend the formal welcome of the Inquisition, serrah. Your company will be a valuable asset in the days to come.”

“The Chargers are the best out there,” he said, with no small amount of pride.

Acacia’s fingers clenched white against her quill. This didn’t have to be a bad thing, not if she took control of the narrative very quickly. In all likelihood, he was here about their payment, which meant Josephine was about to defer him to Acacia anyway.

“That’s a matter for debate.” She injected some snark into her voice and let a smirk curl the corner of her mouth as tossed her braid back over her shoulder.

Josephine’s expression was priceless—horrified, of course, and shocked, probably because she knew Acacia had more tact than that—and then confused, when the newcomer also turned.

And burst out laughing.

“Casey? No way–how did you end up here?” 

Acacia joined them near the door, dropping a wink to the ambassador as she went, and let him pull her into a hug. It was just as warm and comforting as she remembered, even with him in plate. She pulled back before the scent of polish and wool could overwhelm her.

“It’s a long story,” she said, grinning. “But it’s good to see you, Krem. And in one piece, no less.”

[nirikeehan]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Cullen Rutherford & Raleigh Samson, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Raleigh Samson & Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor & Raleigh Samson Characters: Cullen Rutherford, Raleigh Samson, Female Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Female Trevelyan (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: The Inquisition loses, Complicated Relationships, Friends to Enemies, Humiliation, Confrontations, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Role Reversal, Prisoner of War, Male Friendship, Alternate Universe - Dark, Moral Ambiguity, Whump, Angst, Lyrium Addiction, weird tension between Thalia and Samson that I did not plan for, Non-Consensual Touching, Samson is a creepy sad sack, and I am very sorry, could be a whole series, with a lot of complaints, Suicide Attempt, Sort Of, this started as a oneshot but now i'm on board for the whole hideous ride, Canon-Typical Violence Summary:

What would happen if the Inquisition lost?

In the nightmare hellscape that ensues, a few dogged survivors pick up the pieces, determined to fight back.

[bluewren]

Happy Friday Wren!!! For Taliesin & Dagna, "Unless you ask me not to in the next five seconds, I'm going to hug you."

hiii Kia o/ This made me think of Tali and Dagna seeing each other again after a year or so apart. @dadrunkwriting wc: 484

The Minratheous sun soon reaches the highest point, and there Taliesen is, sitting on the steps of Dorian’s estate. Dreading the moment that the rays will melt her skin off.

She’s there, tapping her feet, while Sera and Dorian are already out there exploring the markets. Not that she minded skipping sightseeing, Dagna was supposed to arrive soon. She has not seen her mad dwarf of friend in months, closer to a year now. The few times they’ve talked were through raven letters.

She doesn’t need to wait much longer now.

The sound of heavy stepped running can be heard from the not too far distance.

“Tali!” Dagna pops out past the bush, heaving to catch her breath. “You’ve got five seconds to tell me, not to hug you.”

“Dagna!” Tali jumps up to wave, she couldn’t stop laughing at the worn out Dagna. “And I prefer if you don’t.”

“Too slow.” Dagna dashes across their gap, trapping Taliesen in a tight one between her arms.

She hadn’t a second to react, and is now hardly able to breath. Feeling like her friend is flattening her lungs. Taliesen tries to push herself free, but Dagna seems to be quite a bit stronger than she remembers.

Her one arm is barely able to relieve her any space between them. She accepts being doomed to a crushed fate.

“Dagna, please.” Taliesen wheezes. “I can’t breath. You’re hugging me too tight.”

“You’ve gotten weaker.” Dagna giggles, her head resting on Taliesen’s chest. “You used to give the best hugs after coming back.”

Taliesen coughs from more weight on her. “Well I don’t fight Red Templars anymore! It’s what happens.”

“Not good enough. I want to be able to hug you.” Dagna finally seems satisfied to release her from the death grip. “It’s been forever. Anything interesting happen, since we last met?”

“You’ve done more adventuring than I have in the last year.” Taliesen pats Dagna’s shoulder. “I haven’t seen Skyhold in years.”

“Our Undercroft is still the Undercroft, if you can imagine.” Dagna chuckles. “Although I’m not sure those hammers can actually hammer anything.”

They begin walking up the steps and back into Dorian’s home. Excited for finally being able to talk to one other again, even neither felt their time apart.

“Strange to think you got your own home now. Dagna has a big smirk as they walked. “Didn’t the Dalish pride themselves for being nomads?”

“You can leave your bags here, the servants will set up a guest room.” Taliesen shrugs. “Having a home has benefits. I’m not building out of a box of scraps anymore.”

“Val Royeaux seems like the strangest change, your noble neighbors got to have the most flustered faces.”

“They can keep frowning some more. How has traveling been?”

“It’s strange to revisit the Circles I stayed at, the Ostwick one has a new strange smell. No one seems to notice.”

[shouldaspunastory]

Thank you @uchidachi, for @dadrunkwriting

Cullen Rutherford x Dorian Pavus (During Wicked Eyes and Minds quest, 1267 words)

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

"There you are, Darling," Dorian drawls with that trademark mischievous twinkle in his eyes and a grin behind his mustache as he makes his way over to the little alcove Cullen has accidentally found himself barricaded in at the Winter Palace. Josie had warned them all on the importance of being polite, tolerant about Orlais having a different way of doing things, but this was just becoming ridiculous. All evening being peppered with dance requests, inquiries about his family and eligibility, being sized up and gawked at, whispered about- while still in earshot he might add, and now being so bold as to grope him?? Cullen has had just about all he can stand of this whole affair. Were it not for the intrigue the Inquisitor stumbled upon in the servant's quarters, Cullen might question the necessity of him being here at all.

Dorian is a welcome sight. The man might be a flirt, may enjoy making Cullen blush, but he's at least mindful enough to respect his personal space and boundaries, even if lately he's been inclined to reassess them. More importantly, from what he's shared in the past, Dorian is far more experienced and comfortable in affairs such as these. He will surely know how best to handle these presumptuous nobles. Cullen feels a breath he didn't even realize he was holding leave him, some of the tension in his shoulders ebbing ever so slightly with the mage's arrival, and despite the headache this gathering and his newfound admirers have seen him developing, offers Dorian a small, but entirely sincere smile.

"Our Inquisitor informed me you may be in need of rescuing," Dorian whispers as he slides up beside him forming a barrier between him and the noble who'd been getting handsy with an amused smirk.

"Ah," one of the more persistent women remarks observing the exchange with interest. "Is this him," she asks interestedly. Cullen flushes as Dorian raises an inquisitive eyebrow.

"The Commander was just telling us that he could not possibly entertain our respective invitations, because he is already quite taken with someone," an eager gossip adds with a nod. Dorian barely has time to process this new piece of information before the gaggle have begun chittering amongst themselves about how perfectly charming and romantic their unlikely pairing is, quite as if neither Cullen nor Dorian are even there anymore to hear them.

"The knight-commander and a magister."

"So clandestine."

"What an illicit affair."

"Like something from a romance serial."

Dorian's heart quickens a little as wide, curious eyes turn to search Cullen's. It's entirely possible, of course, that the whole thing is merely a fiction the Commander manufactured in an attempt to get this lot off his back. Except... Cullen's cheeks and the back of his neck are almost as red as the red uniform the Inquisition has put together for them all, and he's doing his best to look anywhere just now other than at him. He'd had Cullen pegged for being as straight as the laces of his boots- not that he'd let that deprive him of his fun flirting with the man- but... is it possible he'd gotten it wrong? Perhaps this little infatuation he's been nursing for his friend isn't quite so hopeless as he's believed.

"I wonder whether I might steal you for a moment," Dorian offers with an encouraging smile, clasping one of Cullen's gloved hands in his own and gently tugging him away from the group.

"Only if you promise to share him later," one of the noble ladies giggles after them as they depart.

"You alright," the mage asks once they've ducked into the safety of a quiet and unoccupied balcony, reluctantly letting go of the other's hand.

"Fine," Cullen nods with a sigh that sees Dorian raising an incredulous eyebrow. "Better now," he amends, a bit more honestly. "Thank you."

"Anytime," Dorian nods with a chuckle. "But you know, the little lovestruck story you've spun won't so much deter them, as give them something more to talk about." Cullen groans, shaking his head and rubbing his temples.

"I didn't know what else to do, they wouldn't leave me alone."

"Oh, I understand, my dear Commander," Dorian nods. "But these are Orlesians, we're talking about. For all their pride in their ability to play the Game, they aren't exactly big on subtlety. You having your eyes or heart set on someone is simply an added challenge." Cullen groans once more, shaking his head.

"This night cannot end soon enough."

"Oh, I don't know," Dorian says softly, "it has its perks. The spiced wine's not bad. And not that it excuses your new fan club's complete inability to take a hint, but you do look rather dashing this evening," the mage smirks. Cullen rubs the back of his neck trying to will away the renewed blush he feels developing there.

"You're nearly as incorrigible as they are," Cullen mutters, shaking his head, though it's clear from his tone and the half smile tugging at the corners of his mouth he doesn't actually mean it.

"Mmm, but you love me," Dorian chuckles.

"I do. I mean," Cullen stammers quickly, eyes wide as he realizes what he's just said aloud and slowly meets Dorian's equally surprised expression. "Yes," he exhales, because in for a sovereign and all that, "Yes, I do."

"Haha. Told you the wine was good," Dorian laughs, shaking his head.

"I haven't had any," Cullen whispers breathlessly.

"Vishante Kaffas," Dorian swears shaking his head. "I'm trying to give you an out, you gorgeous fool of a man."

"...And if I didn't want one?"

"Cullen," Dorian asks, stymied. His voice is soft, cautious, reminds Cullen of a little bird, or perhaps that's the way his heart flutters in his chest.

"What if it wasn't just a story," Cullen offers, slowly reaching out to take Dorian's hands in his own. "What if- what if it was ours? Our story." Dorian stares at the space between them where he and Cullen's hands are joined in disbelief, before finally lifting his gaze to meet his.

"You- are you sure," Dorian asks. "You've thought about this?"

"Dorian, you're all I think about anymore," Cullen confesses, his cheeks once more the same bright red as his coat.

"Who knew you were such a sweet-talker," Dorian whispers, shaking his head. Cullen- he's the leader of the Inquisition's forces, and Dorian's reputation and name don't truly carry any weight this far South besides that of suspicion for his homeland. He has family- siblings, friends- and powerful ones at that... "What- what would that even look like," Dorian asks cautiously. "You and I?"

"Whatever we want it to," Cullen replies, a little more confident with Dorian's hesitation that he isn't the only one who's begun to feel the pull of something deeper than friendship between them. "Maybe we could start with a dance," Cullen offers with a fond and patient smile, reaching between them to clasp Dorian's hand in his once more and offering it a gentle, reassuring squeeze, shrugging back towards the main ballroom.

"Dancing with the evil Magister, in full view of every noble in Orlais, how shocking," Dorian says, returning to the familiar safety of irreverent sass.

"Josephine can handle it,” Cullen nods as Dorian allows himself to be led back inside and down to join the dancefloor, smiling as he guides Dorian’s hand to his hip and slowly starts them spinning about the floor among the other dancers. Fasta vass, Dorian thinks, wide-eyed, this man will be the death of him. But, Maker, what a way to go.

[sasshole-for-rent]

DWC prompt: (Lost souls) Wispy clouds over a full moon!

Established Relationship || Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Summary: Faeven and Blackwall get separated from the rest of their party in the Hissing Wastes.

For @dadrunkwriting

It was autumn everywhere else in Thedas besides in the desert. These lonely sands were frigid, especially so tonight. It was a harsher cold than the bittersweet chill of the forests back home. The cold here had a unsettling intent. A nail of fear stabbed through her heart and the wound bled upwards in waves of anxiety.

Blackwall had busied himself with starting a fire out of the tumbleweeds and lonesome branches they managed to scrounge up. He had been silent since the sand storm. It was one of those freezing nights that knocked on the walls Faeven had kept up during the duration of this relationship. The cold had her kept in the limbo of indecision, where she wasn't sure if she should put on more layers or if she should just let the cold pierce through her armor and skin, so maybe just maybe, it would shock her senses enough to make her truly feel real. She had tried to light up, but it was too cold that whatever high that managed to surface was immediately shredded to ribbons.

As if the universe could hear her thoughts, a particularly strong wind picked up and all she could see and feel was sand and ice. The wind died as quickly as it had sprung to life, and it left her coughing and shivering. Faeven was used to coughing, relying on smoke for most things really wasn't good for her lungs. This was a different cough. It felt deeper, full of little sharp edges.

"Faeven, are you alright?" Before she had a grip on her surroundings, familiar hands had a grip on her shoulders. Those hands gently steering her. "Please don't stray from camp." She hadn't realized her feet had taken her to the top of the dune he was walking her back. "Maker balls, don't make me have to forget the desert again, especially if it took you from me..." There was a panic in his voice, however small, it was still there.

"I suppose I was looking for the others. I just don't understand how we were separated from them so fast. Do you think they are safe?" Faeven could hear the panic in her own voice as Blackwall sat her down by the fire. It had a sweet scent to it, she guessed from the saplike coating of the branches. It crackled, snapped, and popped as it burned. In this moment, Faeven was glad to be lost, even with the fear, a kernel of peace and gratitude brightened inside her chest.

"I don't think we are safe." Blackwall said as he drapped the lambswool blanket they bought back in Redcliffe over her shoulders. He pressed his body against hers, warmth filled her slowly, completely. Faeven almost laughed at how at odds with reality that statement was, because she felt so safe here with him. She took his hand under the warmth of the blanket, brought it to her lips to grace it with a kiss. With a smile, Faeven rubbed his hand with her cold hands until she was confident she had made a little body fire in their palms. "We are safe..." She said to him, the desert, and the universe.

Blackwall looked at her in disbelief, and Faeven could practically see all of the practicality that invalidated their safety running through his mind, but she didn't want to acknowledge it. She knew his mind was in survival mode, and that mode wasn't kind. The what-ifs hound you until you give the merit, when sometimes, most times, those what-ifs didn't matter. So with a squeeze of her hand, Faeven added. "...because of you."

The disbelief eased up in his eyes, but it lingered. Faeven focused instead on his crooked nose. Its lovely wonky shape. How the cold had turned it red at the tip, and eventhough the cold left that nose runny too, and they both had to sniff to keep the drip at bay. She still had the desire to kiss it, because she loved that nose. Faeven loved the man who owned it even more. Despite his anxieties and tendency to look at the more dark side of things, she loved him. So deep that she was scared of it, because they mirrored what she saw in herself. Those things she still had trouble loving within herself were so easy to love when it came to him.

Faeven let out a breath she wasn't aware that she was holding. Blackwall apparently had to been holding his breath too, and he looked at her. "What are you looking at?" As if her gazing at him like a lovesick girl wasn't so fucking obvious.

"You." That was a simple answer. He seemed satisfied with that answer and it was a lovesick boy who smiled at her. Faeven had more to say however. "I love your crooked nose, because it tells a story of how you have always been a fighter. How you have survived whatever sort of punch life has thrown at you."

"The scar above your brow tells me a similar story about you. I don't think you truly know how strong you are but I hope I can help show you the strength I see in you."

"I don't usually feel strong..." Faeven trailed off, looking up towards the moon that decided to peek through the sad wisps that called themselves 'clouds' who lived in the desert sky. "But with you here, I feel that we will survive this particular punch together and it will be okay."

Blackwall nodded. Their souls understood each other. With the moon as a witness, he kissed her forehead. "There are times when I don't feel strong either, but you are showing me that it is okay to be vulnerable." He was quiet for a moment, still looking at her. "I am very grateful I met you."

It was in that moment that they were no longer two lost souls stranded in a desert, but two souls who realized they have found each other after all this time.

[dadrunkwriting]

DWC Housekeeping - Team NA/AUS/Asia

Hi all!

It's time for some DWC housekeeping - the headcount list for Team NA/AUS/Asia is about to exceed Tumblr's limit for user mentions, so we're updating the active/inactive members list. We want to make sure that everyone on the regular headcount is still interested and make life a little easier for the admins.

If you are interested in staying on the headcount list, please reply to or reblog this post with a message by Thursday, 2/22, at 11:59pm PST. If your blog name has changed, please let us know that as well!

If you want to be inactive, you do not have to do anything. If you do not reply to/reblog this post, we will assume you want to be taken off the headcount.

Reminders:

You are not required to write or participate any set number of times, so if you think you'll want to participate in the coming months, feel free to stay on the active list.

Inactive writers can become active again at any time! Just message an admin and we'll add you back to the regular headcount.

Inactive writers can always opt in for the occasional Friday! You will not be tagged in the headcount, but if you reply to the post before 4pm Pacific Time on Friday, we'll include you on the kickoff.

Regardless of whether you're active or inactive, DADWC members are always welcome to post and tag us on Friday nights. If an old prompt inspires you, write, post, and tag! (Note: please do NOT do this if you are not a DADWC member. If you'd like to sign up, message an admin!)

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We will reblog/tag people on this list throughout the week to make sure everyone sees it. Changes will go into effect this Friday, February 23rd.

Thanks all!

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[sinsbymanka]

"Can you teach me how to do that?" with Reyna/Fenris or Reese/Bull? :D

Yes I most certainly can! <3 <3 Featuring Reyna Hawke and Fenris for @dadrunkwriting!

The incessant knocking, pounding really, drug him from the fade against his will. Fenris groaned and rolled over, glaring at the petite form snoozing blissfully beside him, completely unperturbed by the hoard of brontos attempting to break down her door. 

“Hawke.” He growled, attempting to work up a proper glare. Hard to do when the object of all his desires was bare from the waist up, her glorious pale skin on perfect display. The sheet tangled around her waist, hiding the curve of her rear, her shapely legs, but her torso was revealed in full as she slept facing him. 

He’d left bruises last night, at the juncture of her neck, half hidden by her hair. He hadn’t meant to, but they’d had entirely too much to drink celebrating the release of Varric’s newest serial. How they managed to stagger back to Hightown itself was a miracle. They should have been mugged, Champion or no, and he was going to lecture her for her foolishness, her carelessness, for insisting she wanted him home, in her bed, whispering all sorts of filth in is ear.

And he, the bigger fool, deserved punishment for giving into the temping curves of her body as he always did. Still, he couldn’t help but trace the love marks on her skin with his sword roughened fingers, half in apology, half in a mad possessive lust.

The pounding resumed again, matched only by the throbbing in his head, and he bit her name out. “Reyna.” 

Her lips twitched, just slightly, and her pulse jumped to life beneath his fingers. He snarled. “I know you are awake, woman. There is someone at your door.” 

“Bodahn will get it.” She murmured sleepily, opening one bleary blue eye while her petal pink lips curled into a sultry little smile. “Mornin’ handsome.” 

“You gave Bodahn the day off. And Orana.” He reminded her pointedly. “When we stumbled into your blighted hallway and nearly knocked over the bench, after you woke them with your cackling.” 

“Cackling?” Hawke managed a little pout. “I think my laugh is charming, thank you very much, Serah.” 

Before he could continue to fight with her, the pounding resumed. Fenris frowned reprovingly at her still form. “They will destroy your door.”

“They will go away. Eventually.” Hawke yawned and buried her face even further into the soft pillows like she could sleep through the racket downstairs. 

Knowing her, she probably could.

“We should have stayed at the mansion.” He snapped, rising from the bed and searching the room through swimming vision for his breeches. “Or the Hanged Man.” 

“The bed in your mansion sags.” Hawke complained with a hint of a giggle curling around her words. “And Varric would have woken us up already with his bitching and you know it. I can hear it now. Why are ‘Bela’s panties stabbed to the ceiling? Who spilled ale on the cards? Where in the Maker’s chest hair did my reading glasses go?” 

He did not want to laugh at her slight exaggeration of Varric’s morning routine, but he couldn’t help the slight huff in response as he located his own pants and pulled them on. Hawke let out a little disappointed sigh and he turned to find her watching him with heat burning in her gaze. “You have visitors.” He scolded.

“Not until someone answers the door.” She reminded him, too sweetly. Too temptingly. She was a desire demon, and he in her thrall. 

Swearing, he left her cozy room and stalked into the gallery. The pounding resumed the minute his bare feet hit the main hall and Hawke’s mabari looked up with a plaintive whine as if to ask why every damn thing in this household was an ordeal. 

A sentiment he truly appreciated. 

He threw the door open and was met by a raised fist poised to continue knocking. Whoever this messenger expected, it was not one bare chested elf, corded muscles trembling with fury, glaring into his face. 

“The Champion is indisposed.” Fenris snarled.

“But…but Messere…” 

“Indisposed.” Fenris punctuated the word with a menacing step forward that had the messenger nearly toppling off the doorstep. “Come back this afternoon if you must return at all.” 

And with that, he retreated back into the warm cacoon of the estate and slammed the door in the startled human’s face. 

As he climbed the stairs, Hawke emerged from her room with a rather defeated sigh, pointing her eyes at him while she tied the sash of her finery around her waist. “Who the bleedin’ hell is it?” 

“I am uncertain. They are gone.” He eyed her form hungrily, the bare legs that had been covered by her sheets finally revealed. 

“Gone?” Hawke asked, a slow, pleased smile curling at her lips. “Andraste’s ass, Fenris. You made them go away? Can you teach me how to do that?” 

He smirked, approaching her and snagging tie around her waist before she could finish tying it. “Perhaps.”