#Dragon Age fanfiction

[auntie-venom]

Fan Fiction Recommendations

I figured I’d take the time to put down some of my favorite fan fictions for anyone who wants them. I am only putting up completed series, with a few exceptions. And I’ll add more as I think about it. Make sure to give the authors lots of love! They deserve it!

Also, let me know if any links do not work.

Star Wars

✶ Alpha-17 ✶

➤ Alpha-17/Female Reader

Yours

By @wanderinginksplot

Rating: Teen and Mature Reader was assigned to Kamino to do some administrative work for the senate, and when her presence draws some of the clones to try their inexperienced flirting with her Alpha volunteers to scare them away. This story single-handedly turned my attention towards Alpha works. It is a slow burn filled with great banter and I really enjoy Alpha’s characterization here.

➤ Alpha-17/Female Reader

Alpha & “Doc”

By @wings-and-beskar

Rating: Explicit Reader attempts to have a peaceful shower but has to deal with Alpha-17’s presence and persistence to be around her. Absolutely sexy series that I hope gets more fics added to it! Just Alpha’s begging alone in the second story had me faint.

✶ Rex ✶

➤ Rex/Female Reader

Hierarchy of Needs

By @zinzinina

Rating: Explicit Reader is a Jedi on a mission with Rex when a toxin affects them both causing them both to seek relief. Fuck-or-die? YES, PLEASE! I love this trope, ESPECIALLY when it is written as well as this. It is sexy, passionate, filled with yearning, and we end on a sweet note, which I love. 

➤ Rex/Original Female Character

Stories

By @aggy72

Rating: Explicit Cori is a documentarian and follows the adventures of the 501st where the Captain unexpectedly falls for her. Filled with great relationships, banter, and found family, this is a truly beautiful saga of love and perseverance

✶ Wolffe ✶

➤ Wolffe/Female Reader

A New Tomorrow

By @enigmaticexplorer

Rating: Mature and Explicit Reader does a favor for Plo Koon where she ends up as Commander Wolffe’s assistant and they do not like each other. This is a slow-burn, tension-filled, antagonists-to-lovers series that had me in a chokehold for a week while I read it. I laughed, I cried, I stared out a window and thought for hours about it. Alli writes Wolffe so well and I can’t recommend her enough.

➤ Wolffe/Female Reader (Original Female Character)

No Strings Attached

By @cyarbika

Rating: Explicit Reader/Cherise is the owner of 79’s and Wolffe is a cocky asshole that just pisses her off. This series has made me cry and text my IRL friends to rant and rave. Phenomenal Wolffe characterization and beautiful writing. Has antagonists-to-lovers where he falls first she falls harder. Please read it so we can talk about it.

➤ Wolffe/Original Female Character

I Need You

By @ulchabhangorm

Rating: Explicit Sadhbh struggles to keep her growing feelings with Wolffe hidden after they originally agreed to be just friends with benefits. This fic is filled with yearning and passion and completely hooked me! The whole series of one shots have me eagerly waiting for the full Sadhbh/Wolffe story that Maia is writing and I cannot get enough!

✶ Wolffe and Fox ✶ (No Clonecest)

➤ Fox/Female Reader, Wolffe/Female Reader (No Clonecest)

I trust him, and he trusts me

By @enigmaticexplorer

Rating: Explicit Reader is in a relationship with Fox when Wolffe interrupts an intimate moment and it sets in motion a new dynamic. This sexy oneshot explores the way trust translates into intimacy and I related to it on a molecular level. Hot and sweet, just how I like it.

✶ Fox ✶

➤ Fox/Female Reader

Shadow Play

By @wizardofrozz

Rating: Explicit Reader is a senator and is in a secret relationship with Fox, and they have a pretty public fuck. This is just such a hot oneshot.

➤ Fox/Original Female Character

After a Fashion

By @aggy72

Rating: Explicit Sylvi is the designer who makes all of Senator Amidala’s wonderful gowns, and she keeps running into the very stern Commander Fox. This story, as with most of Aggy’s fics, has a chokehold on me. The fic is beautiful story of love filled with banter and phenomenal characterizations.

✶ Gregor ✶

➤ Gregor/Original Female Character

The Deal

By @aggy72

Rating: Explicit Ashla is the chosen medical carer for Skirata’s commandos and is lovingly set up with Gregor by her new chosen family. this story is filled with love, angst, and family that warm my soul! Aggy really has a way to my heart with her stories.

✶ Kix ✶

➤ Kix/Original Female Character

Martyrs and Kings 

By @dystopicjumpsuit

Rating: Explicit Dr. Maree Finnall helps Kix find answers to what happened to his long-lost brothers after he wakes fifty years into the future. While it is a love story, Kix is rightfully filled with angst. Seeing him work through his grief of losing his brothers while being the last clone standing is heart wrenching. 

✶ Fives ✶

➤ Fives/Female Reader

Heartbeat

by @ariadnes-red-thread

Rating: Explicit Reader and Fives are trapped with death coming for them and they take to opportunity to die without regrets. The passion and tension of this oneshot is delicious!

✶ Tech ✶

➤ Tech/Female Reader

Scientific Purposes

By @doublesunsets

Rating: Explicit Reader discovers Tech accidentally recorded a private moment of hers and when confronted she challenges his claim that it was for scientific purposes. Author plays into Tech’s curious nature and uses reader’s body for discoveries. It is hot and has great back and forth between Tech and Reader.

➤ Tech/Female Reader

the beast against the wall

By buryustogether

Rating: Explicit Tech is exposed to a toxin when he protects Reader that makes him lose his inhibitions. Phenomenal sex pollen story that leads to a feral Tech, and I am OBSESSED.

➤ Tech/Female Reader

The Quarry

By Littlelady1121

Rating: Mature Reader is a target to bring in to Cid, but there is more to her than it seems. Minor slowburn with a wonderful found family story with great characterizations. 

➤ Tech/Female Reader

Nighttime Variations

By @bring-backup-99

Rating: Explicit Reader meets Tech when he stays at her inn, and they hit it off. This is a great balance of sexy and sweet! She does a great characterization of Tech and if you like her work and want to get kinkier I’d recommend her Bad Choices series as well. 

➤ Tech/Female Reader

Quick And Dirty

By @eyecandyeoz

Rating: Explicit Reader helps Tech do repairs, and clean up afterward. Sexy one shot with some fun back and forth between our favorite info dumper! Candy has a bunch of hot one shots and gorgeous artwork as well!

✶ Howzer ✶

➤ Howzer/Female Reader

Doctor’s Orders

By @grampsoninspace

Rating: Explicit Captain Howzer is a cocky flirt to the Reader Medic, and it goes his way. This was fun to see a lee burdened more flirtatious Howzer and had some great tension building with some hot smut!

✶ Cassian Andor ✶

➤ Cassian Andor/Original Female Character

Starlight

By @joeybelle

Rating: Explicit While on a mission Cassian gets strong-armed into helping a medic escape the Empire, and it doesn't go to her plans at all. Slow burn and tension galore, along with angst. The sequel is unfinished but I hope upon hope one day she will continue it!

✶ Din Djarin ✶

➤ Din Djarin/Female Reader

Rough Day

By @no-droids

Rating: Explicit Reader signed up to be Grogu’s babysitter and got involved in a fuckfest with the kid’s father. The tiktok famous porn with plot, Mando fic everyone talks about. It truly is a well-written story amongst the smut!

➤ Din Djarin/Female Reader

Be-all and Endor

By: @djarins-cyare

Rating: Explicit Reader is a technician on Endor when the Mandalorian crosses her path and she decides to help him Insanely well-written saga that explores culture and the universe of Star Wars.

✶ Poe Dameron ✶

➤ Poe Dameron/Female Reader

Nine

By @foxilayde

Rating: Explicit Sexy oneshot of a boiling point moment between friends Poe and Reader and then it's just smut central. Love the banter and the idiots-in-love so much.

➤ Poe Dameron/Female Reader

The Bet

By @no-droids 

Rating: Explicit Poe and Reader make a bet on who can stay abstinent the longest, when they try to get the other to fold the tension begins to snap. One of the hottest smut fics I’ve ever read. I use this as a way to convince my IRL friends to start reading fanfiction.

➤ Poe Dameron/Female Reader

Directions

By @zinzinina

Rating: Explicit Reader admits shes never climaxed with a partner before and Poe is determined to change that. This is a beautifully written friends to lovers smut oneshot that I just love to bits.

Moon Knight

✶ Steven Grant and Marc Spector ✶

➤ Steven Grant/Female Reader, Marc Spector/Female Reader

Red Flags

By @astroboots and @thirstworldproblemss

Rating: Explicit Fantastically written story about dating Steven while not knowing about Marc (and Jake) and all the red flags with dating someone hiding a part of themselves. Full stop my favorite Moon Knight fic to date, and I even make my non-fanfiction reader friends read it.

➤ Steven Grant/Female Reader, Marc Spector/Female Reader

fallen from heaven, grown on earth

By davosmymaster

Rating: Mature Marc asks his long-time friend to watch over Steven as he lets him be the primary front. Reader falls in love with Steven after pining over Marc their entire relationship and it causes some ANGST. Lots of yearning and a happy ending.

➤ Steven Grant/Female Reader, Marc Spector/Female Reader

Stuck

By @zinzinina

Rating: Explicit Reader stops by Steven’s place to bring him his lost badge when Marc answers the door and seduces her. Just a sexy little two-shot that I like to reread a lot.

✶ Steven Grant, Marc Spector, and Jake Lockley ✶

➤ Steven Grant/Female Reader, Marc Spector/Female Reader, Jake Lockley/Female Reader

Gift of Min

By @astroboots and @thirstworldproblemss

Rating: Explicit An ancient aphrodisiac spirit is released and reader has to help Steven through it. Another fantastic piece of work form these two, and it is in one of my top five tropes! Absolutely so hot and passionate.

Triple Frontier

✶ Francisco "Catfish" Morales ✶

➤ Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Female Reader 

Something New

By @prolix-yuy

Rating: Explicit Reader hires a sex worker after a period of loneliness brought on by divorce. This whole series is absolutely soft and wholesome while being so sexy.

Kingsman

✶ Jack “Whiskey” Daniels ✶

➤ Jack “Whiskey” Daniels/Female Reader

Whiskey & Westworld

By @prolix-yuy

Rating: Explicit A universe where the Kingsman characters are robots in the Westworld Theme Park when Reader comes to visit. This story is so well written and the tension build-up is delicious.

➤ Jack “Whiskey” Daniels/Female Reader

Harder to Hold

By @brandyllyn

Rating: Explicit Reader becomes the seduction target of Jack Daniels and she doesn’t understand why. The sexiness and espionage in this fic is so fun!

Ghostbusters

✶ Egon Spengler ✶

➤ Egon Spengler/Female Reader

Masters of Sex (The Mood Slime Experiments)

By @psychokinetic-ectoplasm

Rating: Explicit Reader helps out Egon with the mood slime experiments. Just gloriously filthy smut that develops into feelings.  

Dragon Age

✶ The Iron Bull ✶

➤ Iron Bull/Original Female Character

Gina and the Iron Bull

By Lexi Banner (jinbaittai)

Rating: Explicit After an accident in another universe, a woman ends up in Thedas during the time of the Inquisition. I am a SUCKER for someone falling into another universe, and this is a long hot romance.

✶ Cullen Rutherford ✶

➤ Cullen Rutherford/Female Commander Shepard 

The Two Commanders

By Katieee

Rating: Explicit When Commander Shepard destroys the reapers, she wakes up to find herself in Thedas where her biotics are mistaken for magic. Again, I love fish-out-of-water stories where someone from a different universe ends up in another, and I also love to see Shepard be a badass. Takes place over a series of years and is just a fun read.

[moontheoretist]

"It was true that Anders had been changed by his union with Justice.  But Justice had begun to change him even before that, from the moment of their first meeting.  

Back before Kirkwall, before Hawke, in Blackmarsh near Amaranthine, where the Veil had been stripped tissue-thin by dark magic, Anders and his companions had been thrown into the spirit world, and there they had found Justice.

Anders had, on occasion, encountered other friendly spirits in the Fade.  But those were like shy woodland creatures, fleeting about, silent and inscrutable.  Intelligent in their own way, but preoccupied with matters in which human beings played little part.

Justice was different.  Imposing, undeniable, like something out of a storybook.  Like something out of Anders's own childhood dreams, when he had drifted to sleep in petrified silence each night during his first lonely months in the Circle.

From the beginning, Anders had felt a sort of silent awe in Justice’s presence.  But with time, he realized that what he felt, more than anything, was shame.  

He could see, now, his own veneer of carelessness, of casual disregard, for what it was.  A protective posture.  Armor against the world.  He had long ago learned that selfishness was something to hold onto when cruel experience made believing in anything else too painful.  Selfishness meant that he was permitted to save himself, even if he could save no one else.

But in Justice's presence, all of this, everything of his former life, suddenly struck him as pale and wanting.

There were, Anders knew, certain beliefs that he had always held onto, in a locked away, guarded part of his heart.  That the vulnerable would someday find the strength to unite against their oppressors.  That their oppressors would be cast down and face atonement.  And in Justice, these ideas suddenly stood before him, given form and voice.  They suddenly seemed not only possible, but necessary.

For his part, thrown into the mortal world and confined to the decaying body of Kristoff,  Justice could not help but take note of Anders as well.  It first struck him as odd that a person who burned with such a painful longing for righteousness was regarded by his mortal companions as little more than a charming scoundrel.  Then came the realization that this was intentional on Anders's part - a disguise.  Then, the realization that the disguise was not for others' sake, but for that of Anders himself.

He noted this, for example:  Anders liked to speak about the Circle's cruelties, or the templars who now hunted him, in an attitude of annoyance, glibness, arrogant superiority.  Always masking pain, masking anger.  

When Justice finally named those things in earnest - You were a helpless child when you were taken and caged.  They should never again be allowed to lay their hands on another mage as they did you - Anders looked at him in real fear.  

He was afraid because he knew what this would mean:  to acknowledge that feeling, to face it, to give it weight.  He knew where his desire for retribution would lead him.  

That part - the endgame of all of this - was never in doubt.

But even back then, when Justice was still Kristoff and not yet Anders, his presence at Anders's side was a source of strength, almost intoxicating.  When they fought the templars who had come to recapture Anders, Justice did not hesitate to deliver the killing blow.  He seemed to regard the act as unquestionably right, as no more blameworthy than removing a dangerous weapon from the hands of a child.  

Anders envied this certainty, fed off of it, felt emboldened by it, and desired it for himself.

[...]

Justice was able to recall the first moments of their union in a way Anders could not.  Feeling the different weight and motion of a living body around him, overcome by the blinding flare of a living consciousness, colliding with the surge of conflicted emotion that Anders carried within him, and, finally, merging with the mirrored longing for justice already present there.  More painful than Kristoff, more bewildering, but more ecstatic as well.

For Anders, it was different.  Unconsciousness, panic, a sense of absence, of his body suddenly becoming foreign to him.  The experience of possession.  He was lost for some time, even as Justice worked solicitously to help him find himself again, to lead him back to the surface.  

In the days and weeks that followed, Anders found that all of the old parts of him were still there - memories, desires, fears, faults.  But something had cracked open inside him.  He had a sensation as though his innermost heart were suddenly bared to the world, raw and unprotected."

~ unison by zerodignity

I dislike people who prefer Awakening Anders and sneer at DA2 Anders, not because I dislike Awakening Anders (I didn't play it, so I can't say I dislike him), but because they miss the point of his character, just like the writers of his did. Anders is not a "bipolar terrorist" that was destined to blow up the Chantry in a misguided act of heroism that is actually a villainy. Anders is a person who commits something unthinkable because there was nothing else left. He tried for 7 years to change the fate of the mages and the only thing he got in return were more oppression, abuses and injustice. If he didn't do what he did, if he didn't remove the status quo forcibly, there would be no foundation to build mage's future on. His action was necessary. He didn't start the war, as it was started by the Templars themselves when mages voted for independence from the Chantry, but it had to be done to show that mages have enough of the status quo, that the change needs to happen. Anders before Justice was a man who hated Templars and desired justice, but never could actually pursue it, because his survival was far more important at the time. He acted the way he did, because it was easier, it was a convenient mask to hide behind, so he didn't have to face the reality of his own feelings. Justice changed all that. He allowed Anders to be truly himself. And albeit I mourn his ending in which he lives happily with the Wardens (which was retconned for the sake of DA2), Anders needed this change in himself. He needed this realization that his own survival is no longer the most important, and that he finally can put his anger to good use.

[zevraholics]

ZevWarden Week 2023

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

Prompts:

Sunday, November 5: Tradition and Trying New Things

Monday, November 6: Secrets, Kept and Told

Tuesday, November 7: Fear and Safety

Wednesday, November 8: Work and Pleasure

Thursday, November 9: Bodies and Minds

Friday, November 10: Favourite Things and Pet Peeves

Saturday, November 11: Family, Lost and Found

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

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

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

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

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

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

Day 3 - Tuesday, November 7 - Fear and Safety

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

Day 4 - Wednesday, November 8 - Work and Pleasure

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

Day 5 - Thursday, November 9 - Bodies and Minds

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

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

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

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

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

[andrastes-strap-on]

The Inquisition as Fanfic tags (can’t explain why)

Dorian - porn with plot/porn with feelings

Sera - crack fic

Cullen - flower shop au

The Iron Bull - plot what plot

Cassandra - enemies to lovers

Vivienne - slow burn

Solas - angst/hurt no comfort

Varric - “there was only one bed”

Cole - high school au

Blackwall - hurt/comfort

Leliana - major character death

Josephine - “last updated a billion years ago”

[theluckywizard]

Illustration I just finished up for my rogue!Trevelyan x Cullen long fic In the Shattering of Things! He is going through it for reasons.

Click here for the relevant chapter: Ch. 49 The Sweetest Song

[inquisitorsenchanters]

Fell down a Sera rabbit hole today and the theories about her are incredibly cool-

Figured out a watermark😌 don’t look at my bad proportions lol-

[barbex]

Happy Friday! How about "look i’m not coddling you, i’m just trying to help. i wanna take care of you cause i, you know— care about you." for Fenders? 💖

Thank you! A wonderful opportunity for another fenders @dadrunkwriting ficlet.

---

“Go away.”

Anders wrings out a tea towel, spins it in the air a few times, and drapes it over Fenris’ forehead. “No.”

Fenris sniffles, his voice turning nasal. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” 

“You don’t know that. Leave me alone.”

Anders sighs. “I do, in fact, know that.” He takes the mug of tea he made half an hour ago and discreetly warms it back up in his hand. “Come, sit up and drink the tea.” He takes the towel away and slides his hand behind Fenris’ back to help him up. 

“I can sit,” Fenris huffs. But he takes the mug and drinks from it, so Anders counts it as a win. Fenris glares at him over the rim of the mug. “You don’t need to coddle me.”

“I’m not coddling you, I’m just trying to help.” Anders leaves Fenris’ side, before the pink shade on his cheeks can give him away. Not only is Fenris adorable in this state of sniffling grumpiness, he also doesn’t have to know how much Anders needs to take care of him. How solid that need sits in his chest and beats in time with his heart. “I’m a healer, It's what I do.”

“What good of a healer are you if you can’t make this go away?” Fenris gestures at his red and puffy nose, his face scrunches up, and Anders shoves a handkerchief into his hand, just as his whole body gets shaken by a sneeze. He falls back onto the pillow with an exhausted sigh.

Anders turns to the table where he set up a workstation with mortar and pestle and a variety of herbs and roots. “I can help you with the symptoms, but I can’t magic away the cold. Your body has to fight this itself.”

“What is your magic good for, then?” Fenris mumbles into the pillow. 

“For helping you sleep, if you let me,” Anders says as he grinds up herbs and steeps them in hot water. “And for getting hunted and arrested and made tranquil,” he continues quietly. Carrying the mug with the new infusion over to Fenris’ bed, he keeps his eyes on the mug, careful not to spill anything. “Here, drink this, it will calm the symptoms. You’ll sleep better and I won’t even have to use magic.” 

When he looks up, Fenris stares at him. Anders sets the mug on the sidetable and sits down on the mattress to help Fenris sit up again. “What?” he asks when Fenris just keeps staring.

“They hunt you,” Fenris says, as if he just now realises it. 

“Yes. Now, sit up one more time and drink this. You’ll feel better.”

Fenris dutifully sits up and drinks, looking at Anders the whole time. When he lies back down, his eyes flit around, looking anywhere but at him.

“What is it?” Anders asks.

Fenris’ gaze snaps to him, which would look more impressive if he didn’t have a drop of snot hanging on his nose. “What do you mean?”

Anders hands him another handkerchief. “You want to say something.”

Frowning, Fenris blows his nose. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve known you for years. You’re fidgeting when you want to say something but don’t know how.”

A huff, but it turns into a sniffle. “I don’t fidget.”

Anders barely stops himself from rolling his eyes. “Just tell me.”

“Everything hurts,” Fenris says quietly. “The markings, my arms, everything.”

“Do you allow me a gentle healing spell? Just for that pain?”

“Yes,” Fenris says, turning away. “Please.”

Anders swallows all snarky remarks he could provide right now, easily, and focuses on the spell, letting his magic spread over Fenris’ body. He watches him for signs of disapproval, but Fenris’ face relaxes and his hands unclench as the spell dulls the pain. Anders keeps the magic up on a low level, just enough to help Fenris relax. “You should sleep now,” he whispers.

Fenris closes his eyes and turns to the side. When he tugs the duvet around his body, Anders hears Fenris mumble, “I still do not understand why you are here.”

“Because I care,” Anders says, wiping the hair away from Fenris’ forehead and dabbing it with the wet towel. Stepping back from the bed, he looks at Fenris’ sleeping form. “Because I'm a fool and I care about you,” he whispers to himself.

[highinhardtown]

I can never bring myself to Sacrifice Hawke, I can’t stop thinking of Anders, Of Varric, of any of them really. And picturing Varric having to write letters to everyone to let them know just hits real hard.

I claim to own nothing but the text.

Paper/Paper texture are from ibisPaintX

Background is a still of Skyhold

Fonts used are Asul and Berkshire Swash for Varrics Signature.

[dragonagebigbang]

Schedule

Hello! We're pleased to announce the schedule for the Dragon Age Big Bang 2024!

February 12, 2024 — author sign-ups begin

February 25, 2024 — author sign-ups close at 11:59PM EST (UTC -5)

February 26, 2024 — writing begins! Please don't start writing before this time — that's part of the challenge!

March 15, 2024 — Author snippets due by 11:59PM EDT (UTC -4)

March 18, 2024 — artist sign-ups begin

March 31, 2024 — artist sign-ups close at 11:59PM EDT (UTC -4)

April 3, 2024 — pairings will be sent out

April 10, 2024 — date all artists and authors should have contacted each other

May 10, 2024 — works should be completed

May 13, 2024 — posting begins!

[arlathanxchange]

Arlathan eXchange is returning!

IMPORTANT DATES

▸ Nominations Open: Sunday, March 10, 2024 at 12pm ET ▸ Nominations Close: Sunday, March 24, 2024 at 12pm ET ▸ Sign-Ups Open: Sunday, March 24, 2024 at 12pm ET ▸ Sign-Ups Close: Sunday, April 7, 2024 at 12pm ET ▸ Assignments Received: by Tuesday, April 9, 2024 8:00 PM EST (or earlier!) ▸ Works Due: Sunday, May 19, 2024 at 12pm ET ▸ Works Revealed: Sunday, May 26, 2024 at 12pm ET ▸ Creators Revealed: Sunday, June 2, 2024 at 12pm ET

Visit our website to see the above schedule in your local time.

NOMINATIONS OPEN IN 3 WEEKS

Changes and Updates

→ Please welcome our new moderators! @Dirthenera @Inquisimer @Plisuu @Thedaselcor

→ Our rules and FAQs are undergoing some changes - stay tuned for more information and updates!

→ The event's use of Twitter/X will be phased out this year. Please make sure to follow us on other social media for announcements as we make this transition.

→ This event is officially affiliated with The Hanged Man! The Hanged Man is an unofficial collective of Dragon Age fans who try to make a positive difference in the fandom community by giving fans a place to chat, share and create content, and interact. You can read more on our website.

[herearedragons]

Homecoming

(3,876 words; Dorian/m!Lavellan; angst, post-Trespasser)

written for a Florence + The Machine prompt from @greypetrel : “Can you protect me from what I want? The lover who let me in, who left me so lost?”

read on AO3

On a summer night, the Pavus estate stands empty.

Not empty of visitors or of the presence of its owner - empty of everyone. There are no guards at the gates or in the garden; no cooks in the kitchen; no servants in the hallways. Its rooms are cold and unlit, illuminated only by moonlight breaking through the large windows and painting bright geometric shapes over surfaces and decorations.

In the study upstairs, one of those shapes falls directly over an armchair with a small wooden table by its side. On the table, a freshly opened bottle of wine; in the chair, the last remaining resident of the estate raises a glass to his lips, appreciating the fine vintage. 

A staff rests balanced on his knees. An artisan dwarven clock with twelve handles ticks away on the wall beside him.

Magister Dorian Pavus drinks his wine, and waits for the man who is supposed to come kill him.

*

“All staff have been escorted off the premises, Magister.”

“Marvelous; thank you, Valeria.”

The captain of his guards regards him with a look that is familiar: respect, alertness - and the slightest hint of suspicion. She is saying, without speaking a single word aloud: you are behaving unusually, and I would like to know whether my job of keeping you alive is about to get harder.

“What are our orders?” she asks.

Unfortunately, she will not like the answer Dorian has for her.

“Go home,” he says. “Forget everything you’ve seen and heard here today.”

If she has an immediate reaction to his words, it doesn’t register on her face. Wait, no - it does, just very subtly; a slight tilt of her head to the side, a twitch of her brow.

She’s saying: excuse me?

“Magister, I beg your pardon, but I’ve been led to understand that someone will attempt to assassinate you tonight.”

Valeria is highly professional. A slight emphasis on the word “assassinate” is all she allows herself as an attempt to communicate extreme incredulity to her employer.

“Exactly - and I want you to be as far away as possible when it happens.” He sees the resistance brewing beneath her composed exterior and adds, quickly, before she has a chance to speak again: “This is an order.”

The resolve drains from her at once; an expression of defiance becomes one of defeat. She will not argue; this is above her station.

“Yes, Magister.”

Her tone, though subdued, is unbearably miserable; he can’t possibly end the conversation on this note.

“Oh, don’t look so grim; you don’t have to shop for a new employer quite yet,” Dorian says. “I can assure you that I have every intention to survive the night - and, when I do, I’d like to have your services still available to me. That last part will be tricky if you are dead; reanimated guards have fallen out of fashion, I’m told.”

Confusion, writ large across her face; the veneer of professionalism broken.

“This is about protecting me ?”

“This is about protecting all of you, if I can help it. You are very skilled, and I would trust you with my life - I do , in fact, trust you with my life, regularly - against any threat but this one. If you are here when he comes, you’ll be in his way, and you will die.”

Her brow furrows. He’s gotten through to her; there was enough gravity in his words to make her realize that his decision to send her away isn’t a foolish whim.

“And yet you will survive… him?”

“I certainly plan to. Now - ”  Dorian raises an eyebrow -  “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

Valeria nods shortly and hastily collects herself; their little moment of eye-to-eye sincerity has passed.

“Of course.” She hesitates. “...Have a good evening, Magister.”

The setting sun shines in bright oranges and reds on the back of her armor as she walks away.

*

In the moonlit garden of the estate, there are shadows.

Their presence is subtle and easily overlooked. Their footsteps make no sound; their clothes blend perfectly with the dark greens and grays of the night, hiding them behind pillars and in foliage, in solid blocks of shadow and in the mottled patterns of bright moonlight filtering through leaves.

There are twenty-seven of them, in total. Fifteen serve the Divine, and have traveled to Minrathous in secret from various corners of Thedas. The remaining twelve are Dalish, who have made the long, long trek from Wycome to one of the most dangerous places for their kind - just to be here tonight.

Some of them are on the outer side of the fence. None of them are inside the building. They are scattered across the perimeter, and, when the intruder comes, they will make no attempt to stop him.

They are not a wall keeping him out; they are the iron teeth of the bear trap, waiting to close on him once he has taken the bait.

*

The morning sun reflects off the crystal embedded in his transmitter amulet, each facet polished to perfection. He’d be able to spot his reflection in one of those quite easily, had he tried.

He doesn’t.

“Tonight, then,” Dorian says. “Are you sure?”

A small blue glow ignites inside of the crystal for a fraction of a moment, indicating that his message has been sent properly. Some seconds pass as the other party speaks their response, and then the amulet vibrates with the familiar voice of the Inquisition’s former spymaster - or, as she is more widely known these days, Divine Victoria.

As always, the sound of her speech comes with a pinprick of irritation in  his chest. This is not what this amulet is for, and no, he has not gotten over that gripe after four years of it being used in this way. 

Still, it would be foolish not to use it at all. The ability to instantly communicate between Minrathous and Val Royeaux has granted them an immense advantage in their hunt.

“As usual, we don’t have much evidence when it comes to his intentions - but what we do have shows that it is likely.”

Dorian allows himself a moment to process her words, taking his thumb off the back of the amulet so that it would not record and send the sound of him taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it, with only the slightest shudder at the end.

He always knew that this was a possibility; hoped for it, even, on some of the worst (and best) days.

He tries to parse his own feelings. Fear is certainly present, his self-preservation instinct kicking in (good - it’s still working). There is also anxiety - different from fear; the vague tremble of uncertainty rather than a call to action - and something like… excitement. 

Hope, even? 

No. Not hope. He’s made some good progress from the point of denying himself hope for anything at all, but hoping for the best in this particular scenario feels too daunting.

Excitement, however, is something he can definitely work with. He did always love a challenge.

The amulet vibrates in his palm again.

“Is everything alright?”

He puts his thumb back on the warm copper.

“Never mind the pause; I’m still here. Now, what are our plans for tonight?”

*

The Magister finishes his glass of wine and sets it aside. He looks at the bottle for a moment too long, but does not reach for it. 

This was his first and last glass for tonight. It was certainly good, even though he could barely taste it after the first sip; his mind is elsewhere, try as he might to anchor himself in the present.

For a moment, he thinks that he hears footsteps echoing downstairs, but he dismisses the thought. The sentries will not enter the building - and it couldn’t have been him , either.

His hand, idle without the glass, moves to rest on the grip of his staff.

The Magister knows: when he shows up, no one will hear any footsteps.

*

The first of the Dalish arrive soon after Valeria leaves.

Two figures at his front gate; two elven women with scarves on their heads, their faces bare, carrying large baskets. Servants; no one would look twice.

Through the study window, Dorian sees the taller of the two set her basket down and stretch; as she does, her hands form the signal gesture that was described to him. 

He activates the spell inscribed into the wrought iron, and the gates swing open of their own accord, letting the two women inside.

He comes downstairs just as the front door opens. The first thing to cross the threshold is is one the baskets, which look even more enormous up close; the women haul them in and set them down unceremoniously, the shorter of the two slamming the door shut behind her.

Both of them acknowledge him with a brief glance before beginning to furiously wipe their faces with their scarves, removing the thick layer of makeup that was necessary to hide their vallaslin.

“Would you like some water?” he asks.

The taller - and older - woman takes the scarf away from her face, meeting his eyes in earnest for the first time. Hers are brown and warm, just as he remembers; her hair, also a painfully familiar brown, has more grey streaks than it did the last time he’d seen her.

Four years and six months ago.

His last visit to Wycome before he left for Minrathous; the last time he has seen her son.

“Would you like some water” is not, by any means, an adequate greeting for the situation they’re in, but - even after years of imagining their next conversation  - he doesn’t have anything better.

To his own surprise, Dorian realizes that a significant amount of his fear has nothing to do with the impending attempt on his life, and everything to do with meeting her again.

Adria Lavellan smiles - a small, humorous smile; just a quirk of her lips and a slight rise of her eyebrows - and nods.

“Yes, thank you. Both to drink and to wash up.”

Nothing about her tone or demeanor is hostile. She’s friendly, and the attitude she projects suggests that she is genuinely glad to see him again. 

Something in his chest tightens and tightens until it hurts. He tries to say something in response, but finds his mind horrifyingly blank, and his tongue heavy.

He silently nods and walks away.

More elves arrive. Most of them come in pairs; some come in a group of three, or alone. All in the guise of servants.

Many of them carry baskets. Inside - armor, weapons and traps.

The sun disappears below the horizon, the sky painted twilight purple in its absence. 

When he speaks to Adria again, she has donned a set of ironbark armor - her husband’s finest work, no doubt - and is in the process of stringing a longbow.

It’s strange to see her like this. Every time Dorian has met her in the past, she wore dresses and aprons and seemed to prefer the role of hearthkeeper; here, she is in charge of a party of eleven, armed to the teeth.

He starts by complimenting her armor. She thanks him with the same small smile; still unbelievably non-hostile. She compliments his house in turn.

Be it any other person, Dorian would have interpreted her attitude as cleverly disguised contempt - but this is Adria Lavellan ; he knows her, and he knows the son she raised, and she would not lie to him.

He wants to ask her a question.

How - 

No, why - 

Does she - 

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t write to you,” Adria says all of a sudden. “If the Inquisition was still around, they could have gotten my letter to Minrathous - but without them, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

She’s throwing him a lifeline, giving him an easy topic for conversation - and, shamefully, he elects to take it.

There is, at least, a question he can ask here.

“…Why would you want to write to me?“

The words come out without his usual flair. Flat. Vulnerable.

Thank the Maker that no one else seems to be listening, for the moment.

She regards him kindly with her warm, brown eyes.

“I lost my parents and my first husband almost at the same time. I remember what it feels like; I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I’m glad that you held up well.”

“…Well. Yes.” Dorian clears his throat. “I try. I - “ 

This is the perfect place to say something clever, perhaps some witty remark about his father’s demise, but the words do not come. This woman’s presence is equal parts comforting and terrifying to him, and it causes his brain to stop working.

He must do something about this. Now . He absolutely cannot remain a bumbling fool around - around his - around Neilar’s mother.

Dorian takes a deep breath.

“Why are you so calm?” he asks. “Why - “ his voice quivers - “Why are you not furious with me?”

A slight frown appears on her face as she parses his words.

“Well,” she says after a moment’s pause, “Those are two questions, and I’ll answer both. Why am I so calm: I’m not. I’m worried, and scared, and angry, and many other things - but those feelings are for me, not for the world. Sharing them with the world right now won’t help me or my children. And for the second question, I’m not aware of anything I should be furious about.” She tilts her head to the side slightly and perks up her left ear, which is closest to him. “ Have you done something I should be angry about?”

…Yes? No? He has spent countless sleepless nights trying to answer this exact question, and he still has no idea.

Is he to blame for what happened? Should he have postponed his return to Tevinter? Should he have been more thorough with his questions when he spoke to her son through the amulet that is now being held by the Divine?

Should he have dragged him away from that bloody Well by force before he could ever drink?

“I don’t know,” Dorian says.

Adria’s gaze lingers on him for a moment, inspecting him.

Judging?

Then, she nods and turns her attention back to the bow.

“I don’t blame you for what happened,” she says. “Not any more than I blame him. Everything you two did, you did out of love, and it was right; now we must deal with the consequences. I don’t like those consequences, but I don’t think that you could have chosen to do anything differently. If you could, you would have been different people.”

It’s not forgiveness or absolution, but it is something much more precious: acceptance.

*

A creature walks through an empty hall.

Despite the dry summer night, beads of condensation shimmer on the edges of its form. Its movements make no sound, save for a faint dripping noise.

The creature has taken nineteen lives so far. Thirteen throats slit open, bodies found in pools of their own blood; three of them Dalish Keepers, one a First. One a Tevene Magister.

Six more bodies found drowned or strangled, floating face-down in a body of water or inexplicably buried in undisturbed soil. All six served what remained of the Inquisition; all six died on duty.

Thirteen assassinations. Six casualties.

In the Magister’s study, the temperature begins to drop.

*

He was right - there are no footsteps. In fact, there is nothing at all; not even an ominous whisper on the wind, a creaking door or the howling of wolves in the night to herald the intruder’s arrival.

The doorway is empty. Then, Dorian blinks, and it’s not empty anymore.

His only exit out of the study that isn’t a window is blocked by a wraith with glowing eyes the color of veilfire. The dark figure stands unmoving just past the threshold, every detail of it obscured by shadow.

Tonight is the night.

His entire body tenses as fight-or-flight kicks in; he forces himself to relax again, easing back into the chair. He remembers the investigations of previous murders; the target was never struck on sight. There will be a trigger, something that will set off the assault.

Outside, twenty-seven fighters are getting into position.

“You came, then,” Dorian says. His voice does not betray him, thank the Maker; it manages to produce the exact amount of sarcastic aloofness he had hoped for. “And all I needed to do was to get rid of my guards and staff and sit alone in the dark for a couple of hours. Who knew it was that easy?”

The figure steps forward, over the threshold and into the rectangle of moonlight streaming in from behind Dorian’s back. At once, it ceases to be a shadow and becomes a material presence.

A revenant.

His face is pale in the moonlight, the green vallaslin of Ghilan’nain appearing dark grey. Scratches and dirt on every visible part of his skin; grown-out, unkempt hair with leaves and twigs caught in it. Eyes glassy, pupils glowing veilfire green.

When he speaks, his voice is low and rasping, barely familiar - but familiar nonetheless.

A single word.

“Vhenan.”

Fuck. He can’t do this. This is too much - this is wrong - he can’t - 

No. It’s too late now. Either he sees this through, or he dies.

“Amatus,” Dorian states dryly. “Long time no see. Next time you decide to become possessed and disappear forever, maybe leave a note? ‘Dear Dorian, just letting you know that I’ll be away for a while. The ancient spirits I let into my brain have finally claimed my soul and I’m going to spend four and a half years murdering people on their behalf. You were right about everything and I should have listened to you. Love, Neilar.’ ”

It feels good, at least. Sure, he’s just rambling to buy a few more minutes for the people outside - but, while he’s at it, he might as well get some things off his chest.

Now that he’s been forced to work through the fear and the guilt at an incredibly fast pace, all that’s left is anger; quite a hefty amount of it, with the name of this glassy-eyed idiot written on it in giant glowing letters.

“Or how about using the amulet? You know - the magical marvel I invented specifically for the purpose of talking to you? It didn’t cross your mind to maybe mention all the sleepwalking and speaking in tongues that was happening? No! It’s all I’m alright, Dorian , and things are fine, Dorian , and I have to spend a month wondering if the amulet is broken before Leliana calls to tell me that you’re gone - ”

A sharp edge against his throat, clutched in ironbark fingers. Appearing without the warning of sound or motion, like Neilar himself.

The others should be about ready by now, shouldn’t they?

Neilar speaks. Ancient elven.

Dorian understands every word; he’s been doing his homework on everything elven and ancient ever since the disappearance.

“The will of Mythal demands your demise.”

The blade presses deeper - fuck - no, not deep enough to end it. 

It takes all of his willpower not to start casting. Not yet. This isn’t just about saving his own hide; this is about capturing him for good.

The signal. Any second now. Surely - 

*

“...Hold on, just a second - he’s not peeking, right?” Dagna asks, adjusting buckles and leather straps.

“I can’t - he’s covering my eyes!” Neilar protests.

His eyelashes tickle the inside of Dorian’s palms, as if to prove the point.

“Well, good - keep covering them. It’s all wonky and misaligned and you’re not allowed to see it until it sits right.”

Dorian can relate to her fretting. This particular project was, in many ways, a work of passion, and the necessity to finish it as soon as possible only added to the frantic energy of everyone involved. His own part was relatively small; he chimed in at the design stage and provided some arcane support at the tail end of the process, drawing on his necromantic knowledge of animating limbs.

It looks good, though. It should also work well; they’d checked everything a thousand times over. 

Dagna finishes the adjustments and leans back to inspect her work from afar. Satisfied, she nods:

“Alright, let him see it.”

He takes his hands away from Neilar’s eyes and steps aside, making sure that he can see Neilar’s expression as he looks at his new prosthetic.

The look in his eyes is blank, at first, processing what he’s looking at. Then - surprise, curiosity; he leans closer to the artificial arm, inspecting it for details.

“Try holding it up to your face instead,” Dagna suggests.

“But how do I - ”

“Don’t think about it too much! Just do it.”

The arm moves, rising up to eye level and turning, allowing Neilar to look at it from different angles.

Silverite-inlaid ironbark, the metallic parts lovingly engraved with images of vines and halla.

Dorian can see the exact moment when Neilar finds the writing hidden among the designs. His lips move silently as he reads the text.

The same quote in elven, dwarven and Tevene, snaking along the vines:

“Wounded and blinded, I will find my way home.”

A line adapted from the tale of Ghilan’nain, changed ever so slightly to make it into an oath; the same oath Neilar had taken, years ago, upon completing the trial to earn him a place among the clan’s scouts.

Despite the recent revelations from Solas, it seemed appropriate. Dorian doesn’t remember who was the first to float the idea for adding text, but the approving look he received from Taren - Neilar’s father - upon suggesting that particular quote has been firmly burned into his memory.

And yet… This is all fine and good, but the most important question is - 

“It’s… perfect.” Neilar sounds almost puzzled, as if liking their gift is a surprise to him. “I didn’t know what it would look like, but now - I can’t imagine it looking any other way.”

Dorian feels something inside of him deflate with relief. Neilar keeps inspecting the prosthetic, turning it this way and that, then starts playing with it, testing how far the fingers can bend and how quickly he can shift from one gesture to another.

It’s not as good as the real thing, it’s a little slower; Dorian knows that for a fact.

Still, right now Neilar doesn’t seem to mind; after messing with the hand some more, he shifts his attention to Dagna and pulls her into a hug, thanking her. Then, it’s Dorian’s turn.

The hug is tight enough to make his ribs hurt.

For the first time in weeks, it feels as if everything will be alright, after all.

*

A sharp whistle cuts through the silence.

Neilar freezes, both ears perked up. Distracted.

At the sound of the signal, relief floods Dorian's system. He feels the corners of his mouth twist into a smile of their own accord.

“I still love you, for the record,” he says, “But letting you slit my throat is a little too much, don’t you think?”

With a snap of his fingers, the lightning glyph he’d drawn on the floor of the study hours ago detonates.

[haniebnie]

you could be my silver spring blue-green colors flashin' i would be your only dream your shinin' autumn ocean crashin'

king's burden fic

i love you dao anora

[inquisimer]

dragon age character study fic recs

I'm back with another fic rec list, this time focusing on character studies! There were so many more than five that I flagged as interesting 👀 when I was putting this together, so there's definitely a chance that this theme makes a repeat in the future.

Check these awesome fics out! And leave a comment + kudos to let the author know you did💜

Vote in this poll to help me choose a theme for next week's rec list (:

-

New Tricks by Penknife (@penknife)

Dorian Pavus & Cullen Rutherford, Josephine Montilyet & Cullen Rutherford & Leliana | G | 1968 words | No Archive Warnings Apply Author's Summary: Five times Cullen found that he didn't have to do everything the hard way. Mer's Rec: If you're into Cullen & Dorian friendship, or really any Cullen friendship, this fic will be right up your alley. Penknife does an excellent job of contrasting Dorian as a beleaguered academic (beloved) with Cullen's quieter intelligence. They also highlight Cullen as a strategist and commander, not just the "send the troops" guy, and the advisor interactions resonate with coworker friend energy, which I loved. I always adore fics that explore Cullen's habits and traits leftover from so many years as a Templar and this story seamlessly weaves in those details, which brings a real depth to both Cullen and his interactions.

Names Are Cloaks by EllanaSan

Female Adaar & Josephine Montilyet | G | 2963 words | No Archive Warnings Apply Author's Summary: They can’t have that, she supposes, the Herald of Andraste being called names behind her back… The only way the situation could have been worse is if she had been an elf. She could tell the ambassador that there are people in this very camp disrespecting her at every turn but she is far too used to it to care. They call her oxwoman. They call her witch. They call her chosen or your worship. They call her Tal-Vashoth. Names are weapons. For the bearer to hold and to wield. Names are cloaks. For the bearer to wrap themselves in and discard when outgrown. Mer's Rec: With Bioware's scant lore about Qunari and the Qun, I was impressed by how this story immersed me in Adaar's history. Tidbits from canon interwoven with fascinating-slash-heartbreaking details about the Qun, Vashoth, and Saarebas, plus her introspective musings on the past and her identity make this Adaar stand out from the cookie-cutter protagonist in the best way. I want to know more about her! From Josephine's dialogue and mannerisms to the uncertainty, fear, and alienation the Herald can experience in Haven, everything about this story feels like it could be straight out of the DAI canon.

I have outlived the night by lilith_morgana (@senseandaccountability)

Loghain Mac Tir, Minor/Background Relationships | T | 2106 words | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Author's Summary: He's five, he's eighteen, nineteen, twenty, forty-six, and fifty-five, he's fifty-six, fifty-seven and ready to die. Instead, he lives. Mer's Rec: The emotion in this fic is so palpable, so visceral, and it slaps you in the face the way careful consideration of complicated characters should. With repeated contrasts between Loghain in his youth versus his later years, the author takes us on a journey from hot-headed kid to weary veteran, and it just makes your heart ache😭 It features strong exposition on Loghain's motives, feelings, and regrets during the Fifth Blight, which I love to see since it's fairly absent from the game itself. Their portrayal of Loghain in Inquisition also felt fresh and different, including a conversation with Cullen, which is a dynamic I hadn't considered before and found incredibly interesting to read. And of course it ends on a bittersweet note, as it always does with Loghain.

To Yield Is Not Weak by disasterhawke

Alistair/Anora Mac Tir | M | 4018 words | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Author's Summary: She may not like her new husband, but Anora Theirin is not about to let the world treat him like it has treated her. She will do whatever it takes to earn his trust. This is not quite what he expects. An Anora character study that explores her arranged marriage to her husband's bastard brother. Mer's Rec: this 👏 was 👏 everything I wanted out of an Alistair/Anora fic! While I think antagonism between those two has a place, this fic explored their relationship through the lens of teaching and working together, rather than animosity. It works SO well and there was a definite give-and-take, with Anora running the show immediately post-coronation, but gradually softening her harsher edges and highlighting Alistair's strengths while they grow as rulers. Anora's internal monologue, not only about Alistair, but also Cailan and Loghain, does a fantastic job showing the humanity she usually has to hide, without diminishing her competence in the least.

when the bough breaks by gummies (orphaned)

Morrigan, Flemeth | G | 1124 words | No Archive Warnings Apply Author's Summary: In her hands, the mouse is kept still. The only movement Morrigan feels from it is the beating of its tiny heart. With her eyes closed, it almost seems that she is holding in her hands its heart alone. Tiny, vulnerable, and so stutteringly fast. It must be afraid, Morrigan muses. Something twinges in her chest. Empathy. She cannot help the flare of protectiveness inside her. For now, the mouse is hers. Plucked from the world from whence it came, tucked away and safe. She wonders if this is how Mother feels of her. Mer's Rec: What struck me most about this fic was the author's grasp of character voices. Flemeth is just as cunning and calculating as she comes across in game, but I was beyond impressed by their young!Morrigan. I could see and hear so clearly how Morrigan would get from the childlike hope she has in this story to the harsher, bitter Morrigan we meet in game. I don't even know how they did that, but it was incredible to read, even as this slice of Morrigan's childhood and her abuse at Flemeth's hands was breaking my heart.

Don't forget to get your fic and art recs lined up for tomorrow's Fan Work Friday!

[aethes-bookshelf]

a taste this bitter || solas/inquisitor

Something possessed me to write this. Gods above, I don't know what it was, but I pumped this out in an hour. I haven't written fic since February, I can't believe this man is the one to get me to do it again. I thought it'd be Alistair or Zevran, or Fenris, but you'll get the egg instead.

I love me some angsty pining and unresolved feelings and since Solas is Solas, he's perfect for this scene concept.

Pairing: solas/inquisitor (can be read as self-insert as well)

Warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, unresolved romantic tension, made to fit any inky, not just fem!lavellan

Wordcount: 1k

Summary: For a moment he missed the way their fingers wrapped themselves around their teacup, holding it like something precious, something worth touching; he missed the way he longed to be held by them just so.

Solas hates tea, but he promised he'd never forget them.

[Written to fit an Inky of any gender/race, not just fem!Lavellan.]

ao3 link

The scent of tea was not the problem to Solas — it was its taste. It didn't matter how fragrant its smell, how earthy or flowery the flavor's undertone, tea was always far too bitter. Bitter enough to twist his face with disgust, bitter enough to burn his tongue. Sugar made it a sickly kind of sweet, but the bitterness never really went away. It would spread inside his mouth like a disease, and each time he wanted nothing more than to be rid of it, to replace it with a taste that actually agreed with his palette.

The cup he was holding was nothing like the one the Inquisitor had used in years past, back when the sun seemed brighter and his purpose didn't weigh so heavy on his shoulders. Theirs was small and light, made of fine porcelain, and his was heavy, thick and tall.

For a moment he missed the way their fingers wrapped themselves around their teacup, holding it like something precious, something worth touching; he missed the way he longed to be held by them just so.

He pushed that longing down just as he had so many times before, the same way he did it over and over again as the years passed and the light of their soul grew brighter. He'd allow himself just this one sign of weakness, just this one moment of despair and not one more. It was for the best.

---

The sun outside was setting and the entire sky was on fire with it.

The Inquisitor was sitting in Skyhold's rotunda, a dainty porcelain teacup cradled in their hands. The tea was still steaming, its aroma filling the space around them. It was rich, fruity and sweet. They took a deep breath, enjoying the fragrance, before taking a tiny sip.

Solas stood nearby, a brush in his hand. He'd spend the past few days working on another one of his murals and was about to add the first layer of color. The Inquisitor usually accompanied him while he worked. Sometimes they'd talk — about the Fade, about the Inqusition's next move, about a book they'd both been reading. Sometimes they'd sit in silence, the Inqusitor watching and Solas quietly enjoying the attention. But almost always, they'd bring with them a cup of hot tea.

‘Inquisitor, if I may,' said Solas, adding a big pass of a bright, vivid red to the wall.

‘You may,' said the Inquisitor, tone light.

Solas' smile was small; it was gone before they could see it. ‘I couldn't help but notice how you always bring tea with you, yet you don't seem to enjoy it, not really.'

‘Ah,' they made a quiet, startled sound, clearly caught off guard.

‘I don't mean to pry, but I find it a little curious that you keep drinking it despite that. I assume you have a reason.' Solas turned away from his painting to look at his Inquisitor. His eyes were drawn to their hands and the cup in them; a sudden burst of feeling in his chest made him catch his breath.

Foolish, foolish man, he thought. He didn't let it show.

They, too, took a long look at the cup in their hands before taking another tiny sip. A mostly hidden look of disgust passed their face, but Solas caught it anyway.

‘It's a reminder.'

It was Solas' turn to be caught of guard. Of all possible answers. ‘How come?'

The Inquisitor carefully lowered the cup down to the floor and left it right by their seat. They cleared their throat as they straightened, looking a mixture of solemn and bashfull.

‘I never really liked tea, you see.'

‘You are not alone in that.' He let his nose wrinkle a bit for emphasis. Not too much, but just enough to be noticeable.

‘Oh, I know, don't worry.' They chuckled. ‘I never liked tea, but my mother always had. She had this big tea and cup collection she was very proud of, you know?'

They looked at the wall opposite to them, but it was like they weren't looking anywhere at all. ‘And she knew I didn't really like it, but she'd make me drink it with her anyway.'

Was there a shine to their eyes?

‘We'd pick a flavor, and she'd make me pick the cups we'd be drinking from.' Their next chuckle was wet; they must have realised this — they cleared their throat again. ‘At the time I found it rather annoying, but now, well…' They turned to look at Solas. ‘It's my way of remembering her, I suppose. Her and all the happier times.'

He was silent for a moment. The air all around them smelled of fruit.

‘I see. I'm sorry for your loss, Inquisitor.'

---

The drink in his cup smelled of fruit, but the scent wasn't quite right. He didn't know nearly enough about teas to pin-point what was missing, but he knew something was. A certain note in the smell, so familiar he could almost taste it.

No matter. This one would have to do.

The cup warmed his hands as sweet-smelling steam filled the air with an aroma that, to him, smelled like paint and sunsets, and a sky on fire. His eyes burned with tears he wouldn't, couldn't let himself shed over memories he had no right to grieve. Not after he had left, not before he was about to do something unforgivable and yet, to him, necessary. Something he wouldn't be able to take back. He wasn't sure whether or not that was a good thing.

He took a sip of his tea and grimaced.

It was so, so bitter.

[pattriciasims]

dragon age fandom, i'm calling dibs on this title (not really, but i'm still gonna write it)

[theluckywizard]

Illustration for a forthcoming chapter of my agonizing slowburn long fic In the Shattering of Things, featuring my very Level 1 rogue!Trevelyan Rose x Cullen with a helping of Rose x m!Hawke on the side.