msommers - Tumblr blog

[msommers]

some romance charts that i found abandoned in my files and decided to finish up (hardest part was choosing a single song my playlists are too long send help)

[base template]

[msommers]

when the psd reaches 200 layers yikes

[msommers]

they're literally loren and riya i can't be told otherwise

[msommers]

[msommers]

the maeve fears experience is: have an encounter with the lonely while in her teens > have another lonely encounter in her early 20s, this time with added stranger spice > run directly into the institute's (aka the eye's) arms looking for answers > whatever the fuck else the rest of her time there puts her thru

[msommers]

btw archival assistant maeve DEFINITELY lied about her education/qualifications and ilya (a knower) straight up ignored that, took her on, and gave her a strong flirt at the end of the interview for good measure

[msommers]

to consider....non-protag da ocs as protags

the warden: mila, ignota the inquisitor: jorina, valeriya, jaime

[msommers]

cian & riya, canon-adjacent, 1.3k for the prompt "injured person having to walk someone through administering stitches" for @thewildmother (tw: gore and description of medical procedures)

Cian knows by now the tone of voice Riya uses when she’s trying to be brave.

“It’s just like needlework!” she says, somewhat shrill. “Just like needlework! It’s been a while since I’ve tried my hand at it of course, and I’ll grant you I was never the most diligent student, but I’m sure I remember the basics, just enough to slow down the bleeding, because that is an abominable amount of blood, I truly can’t imagine how much more you have of it, and—” She turns a starker shade of white then, and reaches hurriedly for the wall of the cave. “Ugh.”

“Riya,” he says, voice tight. “It’s fine. I just need a little more light.”

She looks as if she means to protest again, her face all pinched and unhappy in the flickering glow of their single torch, but a moment later she raises one hand dutifully and the flames burn brighter, tinged by the faint purple glimmer of her magic.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and turns his attention back to the gory mess of his side.

This wouldn’t be the first time he’d stitched himself up. There’d been a nasty fall several years back, and then an embarrassing incident with a paring knife. Still, neither of those came close to this: a narrow, vicious slice from a shriek’s blade, deep enough to nick one of his ribs.

Under normal circumstances it wouldn’t have been a problem, but with both his and Riya’s magic tapped out and night falling in the valley before they could find the others, their options were limited — and rather unpleasant.

Riya offers him the needle when prompted. His hands are shaking as he takes it. She makes a quiet, despairing sound, but doesn’t do anything except fuss anxiously with the packs supporting his back and the blanket over his knees. She has the water and the bandages and the elfroot ready, laid out nicely on Cian’s ruined shirt. As far as makeshift infirmaries went, it wasn’t the worst.

All that was left to do was— well. To do the damn thing.

Cian looks down again. His own blood stood out dark and glistening against the bare skin of his stomach. Was it a trick of the light, or did it seem blacker than normal? More viscous? The thought brings nausea bubbling to the surface. He pushes it grimly aside, dabbing at the wound with the same bloodied cloth he’d been using to staunch the gore so far. Every brush of contact sends a new wave of agony shooting out from his side, clouding his vision with pain. Best to hurry before he lost his wits completely.

He anchors his elbow in the dip of his waist, takes a full, steadying breath in through his nose, and presses the tip of the needle to his skin.

In the end he gets through two of the shoddiest, most disgraceful stitches he’s ever administered in his life before everything abruptly fades to black.

—

When he returns to himself it’s to the sight of Riya’s blurry face mere inches from his own, and the sensation of hands on either side of his head.

“Oh, Maker, I thought you died,” Riya whispers, sitting back on her heels.

I’m fine, he tries to say, though what comes out is significantly less coherent. His throat is dry, his vision still swimming. He forces the words out. “Just need— just a few minutes to rest then—”

“Absolutely not,” says Riya.

“But—”

“Trust me, I’m no more excited about this idea than you,” Riya says, that shrill tautness back in her voice. “But you’re going to lie there and tell me what to do, alright? I’m so good at following instructions when I don’t want my friends to die. It’ll be fine.”

Cian tries to focus on her face — can only make out the vague shape of her sitting there in the half light, shoulders up around her ears and hands fisted in her lap. He thinks she might be shivering, but that could be his own full-body tremors tricking his eyes. Either way, there’s a distinctly stubborn slant to the way she’s holding herself, and a distinctly dwindling amount of time left to do this.

“Alright,” he says weakly, letting his head fall back against the cave wall. “If you’re sure.”

“Mm hm!” says Riya, a little forced.

They get set up again. Cian dabs away the worst of the fresh blood, lips pressed into a narrow, pained line. Riya places one careful hand on his stomach just below the wound, retrieving the needle from where Cian had dropped it. She takes a steadying breath. “So I just— go for it?”

“Just like needlework,” Cian echoes faintly, dredging up a shaky smile for her.

Riya looks as if she wants to throw up, bedraggled hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. Still, she sets her jaw and nods once, sharply, before bending down to begin her work.

The first prick of the needle burns like the whitest part of a flame within a larger bed of fire. Cian swallows a wretched little sound of pain, instead nodding his head wordlessly in encouragement.

“Maker,” Riya rasps, “ugh, this is just— please never get injured again—”

The needle pulls a second time, and a third; the awful sensation of skin rejoining, only marginally less sickening for his familiarity with the process. Cian musters the courage to glance downwards. His own shaky stitches and Riya’s were about on par with each other. “A little closer if you can,” he slurs. “Doing good.”

No response from Riya. Her lips were pressed so tightly together as to become little more than a colourless slash in her pale face, though she didn’t hesitate before going in again with the needle. Cian thinks dazedly that he’d have to do a great deal to make this up to her, if they both made it back alive. Maybe if he saved up carefully he could rent her a nice room next time they were in town. Maybe half of a nice room, at least. Maybe just a bath.

He drifts in that grey haze of half-consciousness for what seems like forever— until the pain in his side suddenly plateaus, and Riya lets out a trembling little laugh. “Alright, I did it. I did it. I tied it off and everything. Don’t judge my needlework too harshly, I told you I wasn’t a very good student.” She pauses for a long moment. “Cian?”

Cian’s head and mouth feel as if they were full of cotton wool. He clears his throat with some difficulty. “Thank you, Riya,” he manages, the words sounding far away to his own ears. “I— ah. I’m sorry, I think I’ll probably pass out again now.”

“That’s fine,” Riya says quickly. “Rest up, I’ll—”

“Elfroot. Crush it— pack it in, then— then— bandages.”

“Right, yes, I know this part, got it.”

Agony flares in his side again, strong enough to leave tears gathering beneath his lashes, but Cian hardly has the energy left to react. “Thank you,” he whispers.

“Yes, yes, thank me later.” He thinks he feels a cool hand against his forehead, pushing back his sweaty hair. “Get some rest.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

—

The next day, sitting safely in camp with his stomach still tingling from his own restored magic and Nanna all but glued to his side, he turns to look at Riya.

“You know, considering that was your first time stitching, and in difficult circumstances too, I think you’d make a really good—”

“No thank you!” Riya says primly, just as Minah snorts off to the side.

[msommers]

here's the thing: vigilant but riya's wearing this shit

[msommers]

when the maeve thoughts take a turn for the carden era

[msommers]

the difference between romantic love and platonic love is mostly intent

[msommers]

fucked around and found a hairstyle for riya that i'm deeply madly truly in love with

[msommers]

answering these inquisitor questions for greer and coming to a sudden realization about one of her world state decisions got me like

[msommers]

auretta got a little mirror update before the endgame bc of the 85 mods and i'm obsessed w her again

[msommers]

Questions for your Inquisitor ⛭

Religion

1: How do they feel about the Anchor?

2: On which path did your Inquisitor choose to lead the Inquisition?

3: Questioning Beliefs: How do they feel before and after the events? Do they doubt their belief or their religious perspectives at some point?

4: Alliance with the Mages or the Templars? Explain why.

5: Describe their emotions and thoughts about the rebellion between Mages and Templars.

6: What is their opinion of the Seekers of Truth?

7: Do they believe the Chantry functions as it is? What would they change?

8: Which candidate did they support for the position as the new Divine?

9: How do they feel about the Chantry version of Tevinter?

10: Are there further beliefs/religious perspectives your Inquisitor is interested in or perhaps despises?

Order & Politics

11: What did your Inquisitor think, when laying eyes upon the throne for the first time?

12: How does your Inquisitor deal with traitors?

13: Which factors play a significant role for them to recruit people for the Inquisition?

14: Which advisor did they listen to more often?

15: What does your Inquisitor think about the Grey Wardens? Did they choose to banish the order?

16: Did your Inquisitor let the Inquisition remain or did they disband it?

17: How did they solve the dispute between Empress Celene, Ambassador Briala and Grand Duke Gaspard?

18: What does your Inquisitor think about “the Game”? Would they participate in it? Did they enjoy the time at the Winter Palace?

The Inquisitor & People

19: Does it bother your Inquisitor to be called by their name? Do they prefer being called “Inquisitor”?

20: Which abilities did they specialize themselves in? Explain how the trainers convinced them.

21: Which person did they flirt with for the first time? How did their relationship with that person evolve?

22: Which person did they involve themselves with and what drew them to that particular person? Did they go through a change of heart or did they remain at the person’s side?

23: Which members of the Inquisition do they stand closest to? And why?

24 Who do they take with them on their journeys?

25: Name a person they respect.

26: Name a person they do not feel connected to as much.

27: Name a person they are critical or suspicious about.

28: How do they feel about Vivienne calling them “Darling” or “my Dear”?

29: Which person would they lose the most coin to during a couple of rounds of “Wicked Grace?”

Places & Travelling

30: Ferelden or Orlais?

31: Have they been to Val Royeaux before? What was their first impression of the city?

32: What are their thoughts on Skyhold? Is there a stronghold they would prefer over it?

33: Which place at Skyhold does your Inquisitor spend the most time at?

34: Which area or chamber would be most used for sexual activities with their loved one? Which person would most likely walk in on them?

35: Does your Inquisitor enjoy travelling? How much does your Inquisitor stick to their map?

36: Which part of Thedas does your Inquisitor enjoy the most venturing to? Which area would they rather avoid?

37: Which mount did they choose to accompany them on rides in the wilderness?

38: How do they feel about Dragons ruling over certain areas? Is there a Dragon, that fascinated your Inquisitor especially?

39: Does your Inquisitor feel threatened while travelling close to red lyrium? How do they feel about it?

Sense for art

40: Mosaic or Fresco? Is there a painting, that impressed your Inquisitor the most?

41: Under which banner did your Inquisitor claim areas?

42: Which bed does your Inquisitor sleep in at night (if they ever sleep)?

43: Which materials does your Inquisitor prefer for armor?

44: Which mineral does your Inquisitor consider the most beautiful?

45: Herb Garden or Chantry Garden? Templar Tower or Mage Tower? Infirmary or Practice Ground?

46: Which books of the library do rest on your Inquisitor’s desk?

47: Does your Inquisitor write letters as well as Josephine? Which color is their ink? Handwrite their signature.

[msommers]

riya tryna keep it chill, keep it vibing after exhausting almost all her spell slots + having her magic suppressed two (2) times within half an hour period

[msommers]

bestie you can't just drop "tma maeve" in the tags and dip pls share the maeve thoughts

okay so like. here's the thing. a good amount of these thoughts are kite and i trading jokes on archivist maeve having fantasies about institute head ilya railing her against his desk until she can't sit properly for her next statement reading, him Knowing these, and him reinserting those thoughts right to the forefront of her mind whenever he's feeling cheeky. feeling frisky.