#inquisitor-of-the-circle

[bytheangell]

hello elle! i've noticed you haven't posted as much as usual and i figured that's something every writer goes through but i'm rooting for you! right now i'm trying to work on a waywood longfic that i hope to start posting this year 😅

hope things go fine for you, you always have my best wishes. since you said you're open to anything, maybe do you feel like to write more waywood? you'll have my enthusiasm and joy supporting you 😆

from the prompt list you posted, some i felt that waywood could go for were 4, 5, 7, 22, 47, 189 and 193. of course, you should only write what you feel like writing ☺️

(Read on AO3)

People always say that children can be cruel, but they often overlook the fact that they take after the equally heartless adults who raise them.

It was one thing when the other students taunted Robert for his family history - whenever he does too well, or too poorly, it’s either ‘good to know you’re smarter than a worm’ or ‘what did you expect from a Lightworm?’. Robert was used to that. No matter how far his family came, no matter how much distance they put between themselves and Benedict’s legacy, it never seemed to be enough.

It was another thing to have one of the Institute’s Professors step in to break up a fight and say “Why am I not surprised to find a Lightwood at the heart of another problem?” when Robert had done nothing wrong. He’d never done anything wrong. He’d done nothing but his best to keep turning his family name into something positive, something to be proud of. It was never enough. He was never enough.

And the one person who thought Robert was enough, Robert pushed away.

Robert didn’t wait for the Professor to finish before he turned, started running, and didn’t look back.

Robert hadn’t spoken to Michael in days now… or was it weeks? And yet in this moment, getting more lost by the second as he made his way through the pitch-black forest, everything inside of him screamed for Michael’s company.

Robert tripped over a root, or a rock and fell hard to the ground below. He felt a cut across his knee, the pain of a twisted muscle in his wrist, and even though he could get up if he wanted to he chose not to. He sat there, on the cold, hard ground, and his heart, mind, and soul all yearned for Michael to be by his side.

He didn’t know how long he sat there. He thought he may just stay on the ground forever, honestly. The next thing Robert knew, he heard the crunching of branches approaching, and then Michael was by his side.

“You’re hurt,” Michael said, reaching down for Robert. It wasn’t a question.

“Why are you here?” Robert asked, pulling his arm away from Michael’s reach and immediately regretting the action as a new sting of pain traveled from his wrist up the length of his arm.

“You’re hurt,” Michael repeated.

“The last time we spoke…” Robert trailed off.

“You were a proper asshole,” Michael confirmed, already pulling out his stele.

“Then why are you here?” Robert repeated.

“Because I could feel you out here, Robert. Hurting. Calling for me through our bond, whether you meant to or not. We’re parabatai…” Michael hesitated, but only for a second before pushing forward. “...and I love you. I told you that I’d never leave you; I’m not going anywhere.”

Michael held his stele over Robert’s healing rune, looking at Robert expectantly. Even after all this, he wanted to respect any boundaries Robert might set. Robert nodded slowly, closing his eyes against the comforting sensation of his parabatai activating his rune spread through him.

He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure what he could say that would excuse his past actions, or show Michael the sort of appreciation he deserved for staying even now. Why should Michael bother to come all the way out here and help the person who kept trying to push him away?

But Michael was his Parabatai, and Robert should’ve known better than to think he’d have to say anything at all. In the silence that fell between them, Michael seemed to read his mind.

“I will always choose you, Robert. Even if you won’t always choose me.”

Robert didn’t deserve Michael, didn't deserve his reassurance and comfort... but just as Michael chose to be here, Robert could choose to accept it. 

And he did.  

[abyssal-ilk]

no more romance. romance is canceled. tell me about your warden/hawke/inquisitor's best friend and any info you want to add about their dynamic 🖐

[lagunapoint]

oh.my.gosh🖤

[hejee]

i really want them to meet and team up again after the events of The Missing

[sadmages]

Canon worldstate line-up <3 Varis Tabris, Fin Hawke, and Florian Travelyan.

[han-ban-bam]

Dragon Age Tarot cards for my Inquisitor Trevelyan & Rook Thorne.

I am so proud of these. The braincells really locked in for both. Well done braincells I’m very proud of u for showing up en masse.

[confusedlucifer]

i've been replaying DA:O and. thinking so much about how much death and horror Tabris has seen by the time she's 23, and how many of her family and friends are dead or gone by the time she's in her mid 40s. how much time she's spent putting herself back together and becoming a leader, Warden Commander worthy of the title. how she accepted the position of Left Hand of Divine Victoria after the gay sex reform to Chantry doctrine. how despite the vast network of Chantry spies and agents continuing to search for the cure, she's content to live out the rest of her days by Leliana's side.

[megthemariner]

Happy Friday! Eliana/Solas with ❛ you’re not at war anymore, you can come home. ❜

Asjfdjksjf this PROMPT!!!! I immediately took psychic damage but also knew exactly what I was going to write for it. So, amazing, thank you so much (genuinely!)

I’m surprised at how short I managed to keep it, but tbf I know I’ll be writing my Rook’s perspective of this scene, or at least parts of it, in my longfic, so maybe that made it easier. (It’s also why there’s no reference to Rook or the rest of the VG in this)

Also like. when they’re speaking and it’s italicised, they’re speaking in elven. I didn’t feel like trying to translate stuff tonight lol

For @dadrunkwriting

———

Audience: General | Pairing: Solas/Eliana Lavellan | WC: ~550 | CW: MAJOR ENDGAME VEILGUARD/SOLAVELLAN SPOILERS, nothing else really

———

He is still reeling from Mythal’s words, his vision blurry with unexpected tears, when Eliana kneels beside him. The faintest trace of citrus wafts through the air; even here, she manages to bring sunlight. He squeezes his eyes shut - he had almost abandoned it all, earlier, at the sight of her - he cannot bear to see her now.

“You’re not at war anymore, my love, you can come home.”

Her voice is quiet, but the elven she speaks sings to his heart in a way he has longed for for ages. The brief image of their little cottage, hidden from the world, flashes through his mind - home. Solas sobs, giving in to the emotion he had been holding back since Mythal had spoken. It is all too much.

Her soft touch on his arm grounds him, pulls him back to his bruised and battered body. He is so tired. But his duty is not over. There are still wrongs that can be righted, impossible as they may seem. Ir abelas, vhenan. I cannot yet return home. Solas straightens, slowly, stiff muscles and bruised ribs protesting the motion. Eliana remains at his side, watching him carefully.

Solas looks at her, one last time, drawing strength from her presence. Then, before he can change his mind, he slashes the ritual dagger across his palm. He turns to face the tear, beginning the ritual he never imagined he would complete.

“My life force now sustains the Veil. With every breath I take, I will protect this world and its peoples.”

He finishes drawing the complicated sigils, and channels his mana - and his blood - into them. They flash brightly for a moment before fading. Solas turns, looking back at Eliana, hoping he can explain - and that she’ll understand. I am leaving you, again, vhenan.

“The Titans’ dreams are mad from their imprisonment. I cannot kill the Blight, but I can help to soothe its anger. I will go and seek atonement.”

Her eyes never leave his. Solas has to tear himself away, desperate to stay resolute in his new goals, despite the pain. He focuses on taking one step after another, making his way towards the now shrinking Fade tear.

“But you do not have to go alone.”

Her words shock him, almost as much as the sight of her, coming to stand behind him, does. He turns to face her, and she takes his hands in her own. Solas almost cannot bear to look at her, even if he knows, somewhere deep in his heart, that she will not leave.

“Where I am going is terrible.”

“It won’t be terrible if you’re with me. I fear no fate, for you are my fate, my love.”

“You are my world, my heart. Anywhere I go you go, for you carry my heart with you.”

“We make this journey together, always.”

As the last elven word slips from her lips, she pulls him to her, bringing them to his own. Their kiss lasts only seconds, and yet, it feels like centuries. At last he pulls away, conscious of the slowly shrinking Fade tear. They both turn towards it and - hand in hand - step through, leaving the past behind them; ready to face the future together.

[rookamell]

Ok I'm intrigued. Reblog with how your Rook got the nickname and how they feel about their birth name.

[antlerlad]

AAAAAAAAAND THE FIRST FINISHED PIECE OF 2025 IS.... PAVELLAN!!!!

also the first actual drawing I've done beyond sketches of my inquisitor's twin brother, nanus lavellan. he's a little shithead who loves his sister so much and enjoys pissing people off. he was one of the clan's better hunters and continues to use those skills to help the inquisition (when menae will let him lol when your sister is in charge of everything and she's concerned about your safety you are nooooot allowed to do anything fun.). if solas has 0 haters he's dead.

[perkeleen-lavellan]

"You never ask me to play chess with you," Sacha blurted out over the collection of reports he was currently arranging on the bed. Bull had been counting the moles visible on his neck while the ice Sacha had spelled for him slowly melted inside his waterskin.

Bull was used to hot environments, he had grown up in a tropical jungle after all, but the dry heat of the Western Approach after years living in the milder temperatures of eastern Orlais was something else. No one was immune, even Sacha had taken to practically stripping just to his underthings while resting inside his tent and waiting for the sun to set. They moved at night when the air was practically freezing. Trying to get expeditions done in day time here was a complete waste. Everyone just sweated out their hydration in the first hour of moving, and they'd end up wasting precious water. That was the difference between this forsaken desert and the jungles back home. In Par Vollen the nights were only mildly cooler than the days, and the humidity easily fooled you into thinking you weren't dehydrated.

"Are you listening?" Sacha turned his head towards him.

Bull closed his eyes slowly then opened them.

"Yeah, I heard you."

"Well?" the elf prompted impatiently.

"I thought you were trying to focus," Bull glanced at the ignored papers and teased.

"Clearly it's not working," Sacha huffed, and turned fully to crawl over and sit in front of him. He looked irritated. Heat and overwork. The Venatori presence made Sacha unable to relax even in a camp as well guarded and hidden as theirs. It was an unfortunately familiar sight to Bull. In enemy territory you could never truly relax.

"Jealous?" he asked casually.

"Please," Sacha scoffed. "Of Solas?"

He was. That primal part of his brain no doubt had him asking why Bull would pick Solas for his games, a reportedly self taught apostate, instead of a schooled man like Sacha.

"I didn't think you'd enjoy chess," he said simply.

"Why wouldn't I?" Sacha asked, childishly indignant.

Bull smiled. "Let me rephrase. I didn't think you'd be able to play it without getting way too competitive. Like you had to prove something by winning."

"Is that not the point?" Sacha said, lips curving dangerously as he leaned closer to his face. Bull would not be cowed.

"They taught you chess in the Circle didn't they?" he asked while ignoring the nails that came to rest on his thigh. Not pressing down but threatening to, should he misspeak. "What for?"

"Because it's etiquette. It hones the mind-"

"And when you were in the Circle they made you play against each other?"

Sacha's brow twitched. "Of course."

"And you liked winning?"

"Of course," Sacha repeated annoyed. "Bull, if you have a point-"

"So when you lost, did you feel like you had just lost at a game, or did it feel like you lost more than that?"

Sacha pursed his lips.

"Did it make you angry?"

"So what if it did? No one likes losing."

"No. But especially not when their future is part of the stakes. Feel free to correct me, but everything you've told me about the Circle has given me the impression that you were always competing against your peers there. And not like the friendly rivalry you find among soldiers. Your lives were literally dependent on how you performed, and I know you noticed that, because you learned to play that game. So I didn't think you'd enjoy playing chess with me just for the sake of it. You'd be unable to take the loss as just a loss."

Sacha retreated back a few spaces, his hands settling firmly on his own lap. The sensation his touch left behind was only the faintesd tingle. "You're assuming I'd lose," Sacha said accusingly.

Bull only raised his brow as if to say, 'see?'

"Fine," Sacha snapped and rolled his eyes. Then after a moment, in a quieter voice he asked, "So it's not because you don't think I'd be a challenge?"

Bull sighed.

[tobythewise]

My not-so-secret favorite ship is Dorian x Anders and I adore hurt/comfort (Anders is just so good for it)! So, with that in mind, I’ll suggest “It would have been a lot easier to treat if you’d mentioned it sooner.” For Dorian x Anders, if you’re up for it!

Thank you so much for this prompt!! Dorian/Anders is ALSO one of my secret favorite ships (although tbh I just love anyone with Anders don't at me... LOL)

Written for @dadrunkwriting featuring Inquisitor Anders, hurt/comfort, getting together

“Gods damn it, Dorian,” Anders grits through clenched teeth. He winces as Dorian slides out of his pants fully. Normally, the sight of an attractive man getting naked would bring Anders to his knees. 

Dorian makes a broken noise, sitting down on the bench, carefully pulling the front of his shirt down to cover his dick while giving Anders the full view of his upper thigh. They’d just gotten back from that cursed swampy marsh. He’s not sure his boots will ever be dry again. 

Apparently, Dorian took a knife to the upper thigh and instead of telling Anders about it straight away, the handsome mage decided it was fine and would heal on it’s own. What’s the point of being the Inquisitor if the people who follow you won’t use your spirit healing for their benefit?

Anders sighs, poking and prodding at the wound. It’s clearly infected. Probably a mix of undead grossness, swampy muck, and sweat being pressed into the wound inside Dorian’s tight pants. He’s not sure he can use his magic to pull the infection out. He’ll need to use herbs and once the infection is gone, he’ll be able to close it up with his magic. 

“See,” Dorian says, his voice clearly strained as he puts on an easy smile. “It doesn’t look all that bad.”

“Not that bad? Are you trying to convince yourself?”

Dorian lets out an awkward chuckle. What is it with Anders falling for men who can’t seem to take care of themselves? Something like this could be deadly if they’re not careful. Blood poisoning is no laughing matter. 

“This would have been a lot easier to treat if you’d mentioned it sooner.”

Dorian’s eyes dart away. “I didn’t want to be a bother, darling. You were so busy with,” Dorian flicks his wrist in a circle, gesturing around them. “You’re saving the world. Every day you’re on a new mission, saving lives, healing every soldier you can get your hands on. You deplete your mana until you’re glowing with Justice’s juices. I didn’t want to add anything more to your plate.”

Oh. 

Anders’ heart skips a beat at the idea of Dorian caring for him. He wanted to protect Anders, even if the idea of hiding an injury is stupid in Anders’ book. It’s the thought that counts. 

Anders hums softly, reaching into his bag and bringing out a jar of poultice. “This is going to hurt,” he says softly before putting a large amount directly into the wound. Dorian whimpers but Anders is careful and uses a tiny bit of magic to soothe the inflammation. Then he wraps up the wound with clean bandages. 

Sweat drips down the side of Dorian’s brow, his eyes glued to Anders’ face. 

“I’ll need to change these every morning and as soon as the infection has run its course, I’ll be able to properly seal and heal.”

Dorian’s hand touches Anders’ wrist, stopping him from pulling away. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t want to be just another burden.”

“Dorian,” Anders breathes out. He’s still on his knees, between Dorian’s legs. They’re so close, achingly close, yet at the same time Anders wishes they were closer. “I’m not upset. I was worried. If anything happened to you--” Anders has lost too many people that he loves. He doesn’t think he’ll survive going through that yet again. 

It would be better to put distance between them. He can’t get hurt if he doesn’t love again. 

Unfortunately, it’s too late for that. 

“Nothing is going to happen to me. Do you really think a little flesh wound could stop the evil magister from Tevinter who surely does blood magic while he’s reading those evil books all night?”

Anders’ eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, unable to stop the surprised chuckle that leaves him. “Is that the current rumor?”

“Yes,” Dorian says, raising his nose in the air. “There’s also a rumor about how I’m corrupting the Inquisitor.”

“Really? If anything, the abomination is corrupting the mages.”

“Nonsense. I’ve seen my fair share of abominations and none of them hold a candle to you. A handsome renegade if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Don’t let Varric hear you say that,” Anders says with a smile.

The hand on his wrist moves up to his face, gently cupping his face. “You have everything on your shoulders, Anders. You do so much for everyone. Who takes care of you?” Anders can’t meet Dorian’s eyes. “Ah, as I suspected.”

Dorian cups his chin, forcing him to raise his face. “I’m going to kiss you now. Is that agreeable?”

“Is that? By the Maker, Dorian. Yes.” 

They lean into each other, their lips meeting. Anders doesn’t remember the last time he did something just for him, but this kiss? This is just for him. The world fades away. There’s no anchor running up his arm, there’s no Corypheus, there’s no demon army. There’s just Dorian and Anders. 

“Every time I love, it ends in disaster,” Anders whispers against Dorian’s lips. Despite how perfect this moment is, he feels like he has to warn Dorian. 

Dorian huffs against his lips. “We’ve only just started and you’re already planning on it ending?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s okay if you do. You’re the best healer I know. Let yourself have this. Let me have this. You’re not the only one who hasn’t let himself imagine love.”

Anders wants to fight against this but he can’t. Dorian is right. There’s no guarantee of tomorrow, so why not embrace the here and now. This might not last but that’s no reason to cut it off before it even has time to bloom. 

Instead of fighting, Anders embraces these feelings welling up inside his chest. He grabs the back of Dorian’s neck and kisses him again. 

[joleneghoul]

My Rook (dragon age) chose Gay Son and now has to fight the damned Dread Wolf and 2 blights all at once because of it.

[hejee]

Finally introducing my inquisitor Myrella Lavellan (she/they) 🫶

also some facts about her:

ex-clan member of the lavellan clan (got exiled for arson and attempted murder lol)

sore loser

not herald of andraste

that mage who’s surprisingly great as a spy

elfroot enthusiast

the elf that always has a surprise dagger hidden somewhere

a bit vain and prideful

is out there dreadwolf-hunting with varric and cassandra

always scares the fuck out of their keeper (her sister scolds her for it)

may or may not have tried blood magic before

the template for the first pic is here:

[deimcs]

I'M SORRY, WE ARE ALMOST OUT OF TIME.