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The way they look at each other makes me sick in a good way... (One of Nadir's ways to show his affection is to take care of Elgar'nan's bath routine because there is something nice in feeling his muscles relax under his care)

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Kiss Roulette Prompts

You can check out my progress with these kiss prompts here

27. A kiss in greeting - Elgar’nan and Moro

“Distress…doubt. Your consternation at this gifted revelation is unnecessary.” 

Ghila’nain distorted timbre did not reach Moro’s ears. No, only the knowledge of who her father truly was was all that plagued the Inquisitor’s mind. 

Her father, whom she had thought a simple fisherman. Adored and respected by her ever since she was a child. His wise and patient temperament is not the result of his character, but from eons of time that trailed behind him. A trail paved in blood.

Izemrasen, Champion to the Eldest of the Sun. His War-Kin, Blood-Brother. Slayer of Titans, Disposer of Dissenters and every enemy of the All-Father. 

A murderer. A criminal. It was a truth difficult to swallow that left her wallow in a sinking pit of despair and confusion.

Everything to Moro felt far away, Ghila’nain’s voice fading in the background, the surrounding Venatori a blurred sea of red. She was so locked in her shock she had not heard him enter the room. 

The All-Father, clad in his golden regalia makes his grand entrance into the clandestine courtyard, the venatori parting like a sea of blood. 

“There you are,” he whispers, palms upturned. His voice a breathless gasp at the sight of the Inquisitor as he makes his way down the steps to approach her. Ghila’nain had already slithered back to watch what they considered a heart warming meeting of two destined souls.

“Child of My Champion.” 

Moro stared past him, she had not registered his presence but it had not deterred the All-Father from his joy and excitment at the sight of her. 

“Let me look at you,” Elgar’nan cooed, he takes Moro’s face in his hands. Marvels at her before gracing each apple of her cheeks with a kiss to greet her, his hands do not let her go.

He continues to gaze at her adoringly, his thumb swiping across her lower lid. “You have his eyes, muted perhaps…but it would be impossible to truly emulate the radiance I had gifted him.”

“But you are a beauty aren’t you?” He remarks, his voice like velvet, low as he mumbles. The remark was not made for a response but simply his own musings as he continues to take in the sight of her. Not like a person, but more a thing, under his gaze Moro was not just the child of his long lost champion and companion, but the extension of the late Izemrasen's will. 

And Izemrasen was his, so so shall it be that Moro would belong to him, just as he had so many centuries ago. 

Moro manages to finally snap out of her brooding when she feels foreign hands wander where they shouldn't. She jolts with awareness but becomes too stunned to pull away. His presence, the lingering of his magic permeating the space between them holding her still.

His knuckles stroke across her temple while his other still holds her face in place, up into her hairline, and he frowns when gauntlet clad hand strokes against the streaks of grey that have begun to sprout in her growing age.

Elgar’nan removes his gauntlet to stroke her hair once more, then an index finger across the long jagged scar across her jaw. He tuts at the sight of it. Pity, dissapointment and rightous indignation all across his face from the blazing yellow of his eyes to his scowl.

“You have been tarnished my child. Under my glorious empire, under my hands you would have been…glorious.” He runs his hand down her arms as he looks at the short stump of her missing arm. “Your current state is just another sin The Dread Wolf will answer for.”

Elgar’nan smile returns to him, a shudder runs down Moro's spine. It only seems to spur the elvhen god further. His eyes grow wide with excitment and a newfound determination.  

“No matter…in the new empire, with my grand ascension you shall be reborn. I my dear, will make you whole again.”

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got a thought

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solavellan + being a person

What is so essential to me about the Solas romance route specifically is that it is the only time in the whole series that you will clearly see him want something for himself. Everything else he does is so driven by his sense of duty and what he thinks he owes to others; you do get a lot of very interesting insight into him from the low approval and friendship routes, but the romance is special to me because it is, as he puts it, 'selfish,' and I think allowing himself to be selfish is actually a really important part of his character development.

The reason this matters so much is because personhood is such a big theme of Solas' whole story. The point of his arc in Inquisition is that he initially does not appreciate the personhood of the modern residents of Thedas, and through his relationship with the Inquisitor and Inquisition he learns that he was wrong; and on the flip side, one of his big motivations for effecting change is the fact that very few people in modern Thedas recognise the personhood of spirits as he does, and thus he feels it is his responsibility to defend them from these abuses. 

But lying behind all this is the fact that Solas is very insistent on denying his own personhood as well. He consistently refuses to admit that he has wants and needs; when Cole asks about his pain he quickly minimizes it, when Felassan observes that he's wounded he insists it's not important. From the flashbacks in Veilguard we see a life spent in service to others, with little sign of him ever pursuing his own desires. Solas gets criticized for using people, but it's essential to realise that he does exactly the same to himself; he sees himself primarily as a tool in service to higher purposes, he does not want to let himself be a person with genuinely personal, selfish desires. 

The romance is the only time in the series - perhaps the only time in his whole (embodied) life - when he loses his focus and allows himself to actually be a person; to pursue something just because he wants it, and not because it is his duty. For me that's such a fascinating complement to the journey he goes on in Inquisition with regard to his understanding of the worth and value of people as individuals. It's this tantalizing glimpse of who Solas could be if he would let himself exist outside of service to others, and that's one reason why the heartbreak goes beyond just the sadness of a simple breakup; when he leaves he isn't just turning his back on the Inquisitor, he's turning his back on himself and his own personhood.  

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have you ever felt the warmth of a god's happiness?

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Thaumaturge of the orange grove

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Kiss Roulette Prompts

You can check out my progress with these kiss prompts here

27. A kiss in greeting - Elgar’nan and Moro

“Distress…doubt. Your consternation at this gifted revelation is unnecessary.” 

Ghila’nain distorted timbre did not reach Moro’s ears. No, only the knowledge of who her father truly was was all that plagued the Inquisitor’s mind. 

Her father, whom she had thought a simple fisherman. Adored and respected by her ever since she was a child. His wise and patient temperament is not the result of his character, but from eons of time that trailed behind him. A trail paved in blood.

Izemrasen, Champion to the Eldest of the Sun. His War-Kin, Blood-Brother. Slayer of Titans, Disposer of Dissenters and every enemy of the All-Father. 

A murderer. A criminal. It was a truth difficult to swallow that left her wallow in a sinking pit of despair and confusion.

Everything to Moro felt far away, Ghila’nain’s voice fading in the background, the surrounding Venatori a blurred sea of red. She was so locked in her shock she had not heard him enter the room. 

The All-Father, clad in his golden regalia makes his grand entrance into the clandestine courtyard, the venatori parting like a sea of blood. 

“There you are,” he whispers, palms upturned. His voice a breathless gasp at the sight of the Inquisitor as he makes his way down the steps to approach her. Ghila’nain had already slithered back to watch what they considered a heart warming meeting of two destined souls.

“Child of My Champion.” 

Moro stared past him, she had not registered his presence but it had not deterred the All-Father from his joy and excitment at the sight of her. 

“Let me look at you,” Elgar’nan cooed, he takes Moro’s face in his hands. Marvels at her before gracing each apple of her cheeks with a kiss to greet her, his hands do not let her go.

He continues to gaze at her adoringly, his thumb swiping across her lower lid. “You have his eyes, muted perhaps…but it would be impossible to truly emulate the radiance I had gifted him.”

“But you are a beauty aren’t you?” He remarks, his voice like velvet, low as he mumbles. The remark was not made for a response but simply his own musings as he continues to take in the sight of her. Not like a person, but more a thing, under his gaze Moro was not just the child of his long lost champion and companion, but the extension of the late Izemrasen's will. 

And Izemrasen was his, so so shall it be that Moro would belong to him, just as he had so many centuries ago. 

Moro manages to finally snap out of her brooding when she feels foreign hands wander where they shouldn't. She jolts with awareness but becomes too stunned to pull away. His presence, the lingering of his magic permeating the space between them holding her still.

His knuckles stroke across her temple while his other still holds her face in place, up into her hairline, and he frowns when gauntlet clad hand strokes against the streaks of grey that have begun to sprout in her growing age.

Elgar’nan removes his gauntlet to stroke her hair once more, then an index finger across the long jagged scar across her jaw. He tuts at the sight of it. Pity, dissapointment and rightous indignation all across his face from the blazing yellow of his eyes to his scowl.

“You have been tarnished my child. Under my glorious empire, under my hands you would have been…glorious.” He runs his hand down her arms as he looks at the short stump of her missing arm. “Your current state is just another sin The Dread Wolf will answer for.”

Elgar’nan smile returns to him, a shudder runs down Moro's spine. It only seems to spur the elvhen god further. His eyes grow wide with excitment and a newfound determination.  

“No matter…in the new empire, with my grand ascension you shall be reborn. I my dear, will make you whole again.”

[mindtrove]

banal nadas (for @pixdoodles)

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me writing fictional couples: oh wow…. the tenderness, the devotion, the romance

me irl:

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coyote and wolf ; dire jawbone on fate's rotted fruit.

commission of simultas and solas, from @ milirine.

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The way they look at each other makes me sick in a good way... (One of Nadir's ways to show his affection is to take care of Elgar'nan's bath routine because there is something nice in feeling his muscles relax under his care)

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"can you explain this gap in your resume?" I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty!

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Elgar'nan? Wearing a suit? It's more likely than you think!

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You can and should write fanfiction that isn't perfect. You can and should write whatever fanfiction you want. You can and should write fanfiction that brings you joy even if it's silly or goofy or weird.

Except for me. My fanfic has to be perfect and read like a novel and ruin at least one person's sleep schedule.

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Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry featured in Trapeze: The Unexpurgated Diary of Anais Nin, 1947-1955

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some screenshots of Elgar'nan the All-Hottie, with colour edits to make him a lil less blue (he looks so overly blue in this scene) and increased brightness so we can see him better :3

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