#because anders fans have been mean to me before for saying that varric being bitter towards anders after da2 makes sense

[tuxedo-rabbit]

Maybe I'm giving the writer's too much credit, but I think the reason Varric can't forgive Anders, even after a six year friendship, but is willing to forgive Solas, is literally just because Anders actions affected Varric on a personal level, and Solas's haven't yet. At least not in such a direct, visceral way.

I think Varric is a big hypocrite who really only cares about things if they affect him personally.

He chooses whether he supports the mages or templars based on his best friend's feelings.

His approval on the Grey Wardens being banished vs conscripted relies on whether or not Hawke died to save them.

He only cares about the red lyrium and Corypheus so deeply because he helped release them.

etc.

Anders actions, however justified, forever changed Varric's comfortable life with his friends in the city he calls home. Varric had to watch the home he'd lived in his whole life fall to pieces around him, and his closest friends potentially turn on each other. And this time, it wasn't because of some outside force, but because one of his closest friends decided to try and rock the boat. I don't think Varric is a "rock the boat" type of guy. I think the way his approval works in both DA2 and DAI shows he's a big ol' centrist. Personally, for the type of character Varric is, I can definitely see how Anders could become a villain to him because of this.

Solas, on the other hand, is from a time when Varric's life had already been turned upside down. Shit just got a little weirder because of him. Solas wasn't the catalyst for Varric's friend group splitting up and his home being destroyed. He is claiming that he's going to destroy the world, but he hasn't actually done anything that affects Varric personally yet.

But that's just my interpretation. I don't blame people for thinking it's another example of the writers' using a character as a mouthpiece for their own opinions.

(I also haven't read the new issue of The Missing, I've only seen this one scene being referenced out of context. If Solas has blown up Kirkwall at this point or murdered Varric's friends that would, of course, debunk this)

[5lazarus]

Hurt / Comfort prompt list: 6 and/or 17, please!

so you and Verdi inspired an entire story! these prompts provoke catharsis, and I was thinking of DA characters who desperately need that emotional catharsis, so here we go. Might make more sense if you read these two first, but I think it stands alone. Basically, after escaping Kirkwall, Hawke and friends are stuck in a cave, waiting for a storm to pass. Now they have to figure out how to weather each other. I put it up on AO3, titled Catabasis.

6. “I can’t breathe.” Isabela says, “Can you all fucking chill? I can’t breathe with this shit.” She throws her cards down. “Anyway, I win.” She pulls at her necklace anxiously. Everyone is on edge. Hawke bites back a response. Arguing with Isabela is never worth it, somehow she always wins, just out of pure intransigence. “We’re playing Go Fish,” Varric says, “not Wicked Grace. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Rivaini. You haven’t won shit.” Hawke is surprised at his vehemence. “Don’t give me that look, Hawke. You know how much I hate caves.” He drops another card. “So we’ve literally blown up our lives. Blondie’s in a fucking coma. Aveline’s finally lost her job, and I’ve wasted all the money I spent bribing the guards to keep the only woman with principles on payroll. Which, in light of the whole city being burned down and invaded by our favorite choir boy, doesn’t seem the worst of my losses. We’re all pissed off. So? What are we going to do about it?” “We could talk,” Hawke says petulantly, sitting down cross legged. Varric hands them a few random cards. Hawke blinks at them. They aren’t quite sure if they are playing Go Fish, or Wicked Grace, or some unholy game Isabela and Varric have concocted just to mess with Bethany. They’ve done that before, made up a card game and rules on the fly. “What’s there to talk about?” Isabela says. She puts two cards down. “Hit me.” Varric slaps her hand and moves one of the cards sideways. They are definitely making up the rules as they go along. “We’re all pissed off. We’re on the run. Again. And I’ve lost my ship. Yet again. But what does it matter? Just pieces.” “What’s that?” Hawke asks. “Qunari philosophy. My mother was viddathari, you know this.” Isabela puts down another card. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t like the Qun, that’s obvious. But it has its moments.” Merrill slinks out of the shadows and curls around Hawke. They put their arm around her and plant a kiss at the edge of her hairline, right above her ear. Merrill shivers, in a good way. Isabela smirks at them. “Anyway, it’s just--none of this shit matters, in the end. You just have to keep moving. Let the waves take you where they will. So Kirkwall’s behind us. Well, at least we know where we’re going. When the rain clears up, we’ll head to Wycombe. I’ve got some friends in the Rivaini merchant community there. We have options. Llomerryn isn’t that awful. Rainy, but smells better than Lowtown, at least. And we’re different about magic, about--well--elves. We won’t be turned away from taverns anymore, I’ll tell you that. If you want to stay with me.” They all fall quiet at that. Hawke wants everyone to stay together, but to what end? What’s the point where they’re falling apart like this? Take them out of the Hanged Man, without a common enemy, and immediately they are all at each other’s throats. Hawke catches Bethany’s eye. They want to try, but they are tired of trying and failing. They stay silent. Fenris says, “The Qunari don’t like magic, and you’re a fool to think Rivain can stay neutral when Tevinter inevitably drags Orlais into their war. And you’re a fool to think the Chantry won’t try to punish the Circles, for what Kirkwall did. You remember what Leliana said. The mages are stuck in a war for their own survival. We will find peace nowhere.” “Always a ray of sunshine,” Varric remarks. He throws his hand into the air, and the cards rain down like confetti. Merrill giggles. He says the unthinkable: “What if we split up?” “Don’t say that,” Hawke says immediately. “We stay together.” They cannot lose them and Kirkwall both. They’ve lost Carver and Leandra and Lothering, that awful mansion, their uncle and cousin too. Kirkwall will never welcome its champion home, not with Starkhaven’s army occupying it, not with the Divine’s Seekers crawling through Darktown tunnels for any hint of rebellion. Hawke has lost their home. They cannot lost their friends too. Bethany and Merrill are not enough. They look helplessly at Isabela, who smiles sadly. Isabela, who has never had much at all: she puts a stop to that though. Isabela fans her cards out in front of her lap. She taps a queen, then looks at Hawke. “We’ll have to keep running, for a long time. Especially if the Divine is after us.” She does not need to say it: I will follow you. She came back even after the Arishok killed the Viscount. She will not abandon them now. Hawke smiles, heartened. They know where they will go, now: Wycombe, then Llomerryn, and onward. “How much further ‘til Wycombe?” they ask. “Fenris? You’ve clearly been there before. What are our next steps?” Fenris says, “We don’t move on until Anders can move. It would be safer to split, but I am reluctant to risk missing a rendezvous.” There it is again, unspoken: I followed you from Kirkwall, and Anders too, and I will not leave me now. Do not leave me now. Fenris takes Anders’ hand into his own and his face twists. Hawke shifts, uncomfortable. Everyone has their tragedy, but it is harder to synthesize and react when the stage itself has been removed. Kirkwall is gone. What is the next act? Varric says testily, “We can’t live on the run forever.” Bethany snorts. They have, from the Marches where their parents met, to Denerim and the Hinterlands back out to Lothering, across the Waking Sea and Kirkwall again. The Hawke siblings can. Varric, though, hates moving. He is as solid as the Stone that birthed him, though he would never admit it. Kirkwall is their home, but for Varric, it is part of him. Hawke feels guilty. They cannot ask him to leave. They cannot ask him to go. Bethany, though, is irritated. “We can. I can. I don’t like it, but it’s better than letting the templars make me Tranquil.” She picks up the cards they have put out and shuffles them anxiously, fans them out, then shuffles them again. “We all have had to run, Varric. All of us except you.” Varric is taken aback. “What’s that supposed to mean, Sunshine?” His tone is less testy and more surprised. Bethany gets bitter, Hawke knows that better than all of them except maybe Anders, but she tends to keep that anger to herself. Merrill murmurs, “Oh, don’t start.” “Maybe I should,” Bethany says. “Maybe we need to be honest about what the next week is going to look like.” She turns around. “Aveline! Come back here. We all need to talk.” Isabela says, “I think you and I define ‘need’ differently, sweetling. Is there really anything more that needs to be said?” Aveline stalks over. She stares at Fenris warily, but pushes herself between Merrill and Varric.  It’s weird to see her without her armor, her hair unkempt, and tired. Even after they buried Wesley, Aveline kept herself clean. “What?” she says. “What now?” Bethany says, “We need to decide now if we’re going to split up.” “No,” Hawke says immediately. “Hawke,” Aveline starts, but Hawke’s heart is pounding in their chest, and they feel like their sister has punched them in the stomach. They cannot think to lose them all. Merrill and Bethany aren’t enough, not after fleeing Kirkwall. They need more. They want their friends around them like a bulwark against the storm. The rain picks up outside, thunder shaking the woods, and Hawke feels momentarily reassured. They cannot split up just yet. “Ma vhenan,” Merrill says, “calm down. We’re here, right now.” Hawke looks at her. She looks so weary, so deeply sad. She left Clan Sabrae behind, or they left her, and who knows what they will face, with Sebastian occupying the city? Andrastians don’t like the Dalish, however hands-off and kind Sebastian’s missionary approach is. “Bethany, go on.” Bethany’s eyes flick to Hawke, then to Varric, and then to Avelien. Staring at Aveline, Bethany says, “We’re three mages, two elves, a dwarf, a pirate, and the Champion of Kirkwall. Aveline, you’re the only one of us who can move relatively...unmolested. And together we stick out. When we’d have to pack up, we were able to pass because we were a family, and Andrastian, and Mother was always good at talking to guards and templars. But everyone knows who the Champion is. Everyone knows they travel with a Dalish elf and the apostate who set the mages alight.” Hawke says, “When did you become a poet? Is that what they teach you in the Circle? And here I thought it was just blood magic.” Bethany scowls. “You know I’m right. Stop deflecting. You always do that, since Father died. I wish you wouldn’t. You can’t laugh this off this time. Our house has been destroyed. Our parents are dead. And there’s a warrant for your head, and mine too. And I don’t think that dragon lady is going to save us this time.” Hawke pushes Merrill off and stands up abruptly. “Then what do you suggest, Bethany?” they snap. “I got us out of Lothering, I got us into Kirkwall, I got us fucking out! With the help of a few miracles. So what do you think? Can you conjure something up?” “Hawke, sit down,” Aveline says. “Oh, come off it, Aveline,” Hawke says, exasperated. “You had your tantrum earlier, it’s my turn now.” They laugh at the sour face Aveline pulls. It is all utterly ridiculous, and they rejoice viciously as they make it all worse. “Stop joking? We’re a bad joke. A pirate, two apostates, and the Champion of Kirkwall get stuck in a cave. Got a punchline?” Aveline pulls herself up, and Hawke laughs again. “What? What are you going to do? Hit me? I thought you delegated that to your subordinates. Anybody know what happened to those elves who killed that guard who raped their sister? Aveline? Any guesses?” They step closer, staring right up in Aveline’s face. “Come on, it’s a helluva punchline!” And then Anders croaks, “Enough.” He paws at the collar of his robe. “I can’t breathe.” Fenris hurriedly unbuttons it for him, and Anders smiles at him. Fenris caresses the edge of his jaw, and Anders grabs his arm to level himself upright. Hawke deflates, relieved that he has woken up, and that it is him staring sternly at the lot of them, not Justice. Perhaps they can make it through this after all. “Well,” Aveline says, smiling despite herself. “The revolutionary himself. And not possessed. For once.” Anders grimaces, and gestures. Bethany gets up and pours him a glass of water. He downs it and clears his throat. “Din’mean to interrupt a good screaming match. But.” He rubs at his chest, over his heart, where the templar raised his Smite. “Hi?” He smiles awkwardly. None of them have planned this far. None of this saw this coming, except, perhaps, Anders--and Hawke knows for a fact he was hoping he was going to die in the battle, that fucking fool. Hawke swallows hard, tears springing to the edge of their eyes. These fucking fools: they all thought they were going to die before they got this far, didn’t they? “Don’t be cute,” Hawke says, voice breaking. “I’m mad at you. You were going to fucking let them kill you, you asshole.” They wipe at their eyes, cursing themselves. Bethany is looking at them in shock. Hawke musters a smile, casts about for a joke. “None of us planned this far, did we? None of us thought we were going to survive what Kirkwall was going to throw at us. But we did. And I for one think it’s more a miracle than that dragon dropping out of the sky to save us from the Blight. That we made it out alive. So let’s not throw that away. I don’t want us to separate.” They look at them all, their friends. “You lot are all I have left. All I want. And I don’t want to leave you behind.” Isabela bites her lip anxiously. “Aw, Hawke! And here I was going to sell you all to the Blind Men.” “Shut up and stop ruining the moment, Isabela,” Aveline says wearily. “Can we salvage this?” Varric offers, “Group hug?” Fenris says flatly, “No.” 17. “Hey, don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself.” With that, the tension dissolves, and Hawke begins to laugh. They throw themself down next to Fenris and pull him into a hug, messing his hair. “Gimme a hug!” they say. “I deserve it, I saved your sorry ass.” Fenris says, “Ugh.” He scowls but does not pull away. Aveline huffs and moves to Varric. Hawke can feel Varric glaring at them. They purposefully turn away from the two of them, grinning a tad maniacally at their other friends. The fissures are obvious. Hawke thinks, maybe it’s like the Fade, and they’ll go away if I don’t look at them. Merrill gets up and begins moving around the shelter, pulling together a meal. Bethany follows. Isabela creeps closer to Hawke, Fenris, and Anders, watching the others fondly. “Damn, Anders,” Isabela says. “I didn’t think you were going to be there when you woke up.” Anders winces. “I wasn’t so sure either,” he says quietly. Fenris tightens his grasp on his hand. Hawke worries that he is hurting him. They aren’t quite sure about the two of them, though they had almost felt themself falling off the precipice into love with both men. They have that intensity, that fervor, that adoration that feels akin to worship--but Merrill’s love is calm like the surf lapping at the shore at low tide, and Hawke is not yet another ship to wreck in the storm. Anders and Fenris seem tender, anyway--desperate, but tender. Hawke says, “So. Still alive then?” It comes out more sour than they intend. “Despite your best efforts.” Anders looks guilty. “I didn’t want to die,” he claims. Fenris looks away sharply, hair hiding his face. Anders bites his lip. “It wasn’t--well, I made it. You got me through. The wardens always said I’d go out with a bang.” Hawke starts to laugh, which is better than crying. “Wait until they hear about what you did in Kirkwall!” “Which was not a suicide attempt,” Fenris says meditatively. “So you say.” “It wasn’t. Fenris, you know it wasn’t.” “I do not want to discuss your propensity to self-destruction right now,” Fenris says, voice strained. “But we will.” Anders looks irritated. “It’s not self-destruction, it was basic self-preservation and you know I had no other option--” “Maybe I should leave you two alone,” Hawke suggests. “Somehow. Because we’re stuck in this cave until the rain lets out. And it’s the sort of situation where we need to rappel down, so we’d need to do it together.” “No,” Fenris says. “Hawke, back me up in this.” Hawke really does not want to get involved in this, but they have never been able to tell their friends when to learn some emotional continence. They sigh. “You let us know you were planning something. You told me we needed to prepare to flee. You did not tell me you were planning to blow up the Chantry!” Hawke shrugs. “To be fair, it was a little obvious, with the sela petrae.” Fenris gives them a dirty look. Hawke spreads out their hands. “What? Come on. Sela petrae, drakestones, all those dark murmurings in the sewers--I just thought it was more than a one-man show.” Anders smiles slightly. “Well, you know me. I like to hog the stage. I didn’t want to bring anyone down with me.” “Don’t I know it!” Isabela snorts. “And you were only three drinks in, too….” One day Hawke will have the bravery to ask exactly how the two met, and what they did. Today is not that day. They love their friends, truly, but they are so much, and today is too much, and they do not want to know. Fenris says, “I take exception to that.” He is very still. “‘Bring anyone down with you’--who do you think we are, then? Mere incidental acquaintances?” Isabela bumps Hawke’s shoulder. Hawke blinks. That means she wants them to make a joke. “Acquiantances to murder, you mean,” they try. “Uh. Accessories.” Isabela rolls her eyes. Everyone’s a critic, especially when your friend has tried to kill himself. Anger lights itself in the pit of their stomach. They swallow it, it isn’t productive, but testily, they say, “I helped you find the materials to make the bomb. You should have just told me, instead of trying to be a martyr. You’re my friend. I care about you. If we hadn’t done anything to stop Meredith, Bethany would’ve been made Tranquil too. I thought I made it obvious I supported you, we could’ve worked in tandem with the last of the Viscount’s family--it didn’t have to end like this. There could’ve been another way.” “No there couldn’t!” Anders stands up suddenly, eyes flashing blue. Merrill and Bethany turn around simultaneously from the mouth of the cave, and everyone’s attention is glued to him. Hawke notices Aveline’s hand drift to the handle of her sword, Varric fingers a bottle of knock-out powder he keeps at his waist, even Isabela already has a dagger in her hand. Anders wrestles Justice back. “There wasn’t,” he repeats. “I tried all other ways. Orsino too. Endlessly. When the Left Hand of the Divine came, I knew it was over. The Chantry would rather kill us than let us go. And I wasn’t going to sit down and let them brand me--” “I’m not disagreeing with that!” Hawke snaps. “I just--I’m your friend, Anders. We all are. I’ve known you for almost a decade. You did not have to do that alone. We’re just as implicated as you were ever going to be.” “Leliana used to be better,” Isabela says. “Before the Chantry got its claws in her again. But--we’re here now, aren’t we? Together?” She looks at them all pleadingly. “So do we have to fight? The decision was already made, why talk about it now?” Anders’ eyes flash again, but Fenris grabs his arm in a bruising grip, and Hawke winces. Isabela tends to agree with them, she hates anything that restricts herself and has enough empathy to hate prisons for other people--but Isabela hates conflict, and hates being trapped into defending a position. Anders and Fenris both need clear lines. Hawke puts their head in their hands, frustrated. Varric shakes his head angrily. “Because some of us didn’t want to be driven out of town,” he says. “Because some of us think killing a grand cleric is a fucking stupid way to try to convince people you’re not an evil abomination. Because some of us believe in using our words.” Hawke thinks, well that’s not where I wanted the conversation to go. They open their mouth to disagree, to defend, to protest, but Merrill gets there first. “Varric, please,” Merrill says. She is vibrating with tension. Hawke reaches for her, but Merrill brushes them off. “If it wasn’t going to be Anders, it was going to be me. Or Feynriel. My clan. That lyrium. Or even Hawke, you know Meredith was trying to push them out since they killed the Arishok. Varric, don’t do this. Please.” Varric’s face twists. Hawke is terrified again. He comes across as easy-going, but he disagrees with Anders on most things. Hawke had been afraid Varric and Aveline wouldn’t have fought with them against Meredith; both of them knew she was crazy, but neither of them like risks. They love Kirkwall and its structures, oppressive or not. But both of them are the reason why Hawke has made it thus far, from Lothering to a hole in the wall in the Free Marches, as it pours outside. Aveline got them to Kirkwall, Varric got them out of Lowtown. They’ve only made it this far because of them, and they don’t want to know how far they can go without them. “The pillow,” Varric says. “The fucking pillow.” He laughs shortly. “That’s what gets me, every time. You gave me it. And why? Because you didn’t want to deal with the fucking consequences. Your little revolution, your fucking lover, your clinic--you were ready to give it all away. Because you were done. You wanted your blaze of glory--and now we have to deal with it. Kirkwall, Kirkwall’s gone. The Hanged Man? Probably burnt to the ground. I know they went for your clinic. And Blighted Prince Charming’s seized all our assets and is tracking us like a bloodhound. Because you were pissed at the grand cleric. At the Chantry. So you decided to burn it all down, and leave us in the ashes.” Hawke says, slightly impressed, “Damn.” It is slightly better than what they were expecting, and at this point they are just relieved no one has hit anyone yet. Next to them Merrill relaxes slightly, and she slides her hand into theirs and squeezes it comfortingly. They are upset Anders prepared to die. They are upset he treated his revolution like suicide. They are so utterly relieved Varric is angry about that too, and not that he is still alive. Anders closes his eyes and sags visibly. He hugs himself, nails digging into his arms. Fenris says, “Don’t do that, you’re hurting yourself.” Anders gives him a wretched look. “Isn’t that all I do?” he murmurs. “No,” Varric says. “It isn’t, you asshole. You hang out with me, and that was a good choice. And I suppose Broody was a good idea too. How old are you know? Past the fucking age to know that when you hurt yourself, you hurt the people around you. Us. And I might not agree with you, I might really want to hit you right now--” “Varric,” Fenris says warningly, and Varric puts his hands up. “I didn’t say I was going to do it,” he says. Hawke shoots him an amused look: while Fenris is around, they finish silently. “But, anyway--I don’t actually want you to hurt. Else I wouldn’t have sunk so much cash into keeping the Carta off your back. Especially when you helped out with the strike. You owe me your fucking life. Live it.” Anders says, “I didn’t know you cared.” Varric says, “Fuck you. Hawke, I have terrible taste in friends.” “Don’t look at me,” Hawke says mildly. “I’m terrible too. I’m the one who went digging around in shit to get the explosives for him.” “So what now?” Isabela says. “Are we all good? Because the rain’s stopped, and we should get moving. Anders? You’re not going to blow yourself up? And Fenris, you’re not going to tear out Aveline’s throat? And Bethany--” “What?” Bethany calls from deep in the storeroom, where she is packing their bags with Aveline. “I’m staying out of this!” “You do that, carry on,” Isabela says. “Keep doing that.” They pack up, Fenris and Merrill fretting quietly over exactly how to write the apology in Elvhen and what wall on which to pin it up. Fenris speaks the dialect the clan whose storeroom they borrowed uses, but doesn’t know how to use their alphabet, and while Merrill knows the characters, she puzzles over the words. Hawke has managed to pick up over the years that Elvhen and its dialects are based on intent, and change according to the context. The two of them can’t seem to decide on how to convey the context of the situation, and disagree on what they are enmeshed in anyway. As the others bustle about packing, Varric walks to Hawke and gestures at the two arguing elves. “If I write about this,” he says, “I’m skipping over this part. Because I have completely lost the plot.” Hawke heaves their pack onto their back and whistles for their mabari to join them. “We’re all fucking pissed at each other, but we know that’ll pass. We’re not separating.” They smile. “We’re getting through this together, somehow.” Varric says, “I hope you’re right, Hawke. Because I’m not so sure anything is resolved.”

[nomorecaffeineforyou]

Dear Wintersend Letter

Dear Wintersend Creator,

Hello! I hope you’ve been having a good new year thus far. I’m Fille and I’m honored that you’ve been chosen to have me as your exchange partner. No doubt you’ve got a fantastic already existing body of work; I’m really looking forward to whatever you’ll create! I’ve laid out here a few guidelines for my prompts and the kind of things I like to see just in case you wanted a little more of a reference.

My AO3 is linked in my sidebar if you want to get a better idea of what I write and I’m generally very flexible. If you’re really stuck, you can always send me any questions you have at all on anon and I will dramatically cover my eyes and go OH NO WHO IS THAT I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THIS COULD BE ABOUT while I answer it.

Good Shit

Character studies exploring every available aspect. Found families. People overcoming their differences to come together and people recognizing their similarities through their differences as they come together. Letting things get weird and sticky but finding comfort in that and coming toa  resolution. Domesticity, nonsexual and sexual intimacy, supporting but being willing to call the other out on their bullshit or push them towards something greater. Mutual comfort while unpacking and dealing with trauma; also, coming together to weather a traumatic experience. Well done angst that might seem overwrought, but is worth the light at the end of the tunnel. Character driven fluff and smut. Enthusiastic consent play, light bondage, service tops/service bottoms, spanking, shibari, oral sex, praise kink, dirty talk, orgasm denial, switching, femdom, pegging, hair-pulling, rough sex that comes after sparring, hair-pulling. Meaningful but realistic sex where you’re allowed to laugh and no one takes it too seriously. My biggest kink is mutual respect and affection (no, really). I also have a weakness for epistolary and faux anthropological/sociological study styles, even if the formatting can be difficult.

BONUS! I am eternally weak for the Chargers as NPCs, so any appearance of them means I will adore your work until the end of time. There is no easier in to my heart.

Background pairings I would love to see if you want to squeeze them include but are not limited to: Dalish/Skinner, Dagna/Sera, Cassandra/Vivienne, Josephine/Leliana, Iron Bull/Dorian, Female Inquisitor Who Is Not Human/Any of the women at Skyhold (and I do mean any), Isabela/Merrill, Aveline/Isabela, Female Hawke/any of the Kirkwall gals (and I do mean any), Female Hawke/Merrill/Isabela, Male Inquisitor Who Is Not Human/Iron Bull, Male Inquisitor Who Is Not Human/Dorian Pavus, Male Inquisitor Who Is Not Human/Cullen Rutherford, Male Inquisitor Who Is Not Human/Krem, Male Inquisitor Who Is Not Human/Blackwall, Male Hawke/Fenris, Male Hawke/Varric, Leliana/Cassandra, Morrigan/Leliana, Josephine/Vivienne, Sera/Cassandra, Josephine/Sera, Any Male Charger But Bull/Any Male Charger But Bull,   Leliana/Sera, Cassandra/Krem, and Lace Harding/Dagna.

I haven’t actually played Origins yet, but if you wanted to include Leliana/FWarden Who Is Not Human, Morrigan/FWarden Who Is Not Human, or Zevran/Male Warden Who Is Not Human, that would be fine, too.

Non, Merci

Scat, watersports, bloodplay, vomit play, vore, rape roleplay, love triangles, character bashing, OTT angst, ageplay, infidelity, pregnancy, whump, kid fic, women being dominated by men, soulmate fic, AU fic, A/B/O dynamics and tropes, descriptions of gore that go beyond the typical canon. Referencing or hinting at abuse, rape, or assault is fine, but I’d rather not see it played out. I’m also not a huge fan of tons of angst or sadness without a happy ending; I like things bittersweet, not full on sour. Also, no human Wardens or Inquisitors, please. I have nothing against them; I just find the other origins more interesting. I have no preference regarding classes. If you’re drawing me porn and you’re an artist, I really don’t like the style where both people look super shiny; I tend to read it as oily or sweaty and it takes me out of the scene.

First person and second person POV also don’t generally work for me as styles and I would prefer you stick to canon. Pairings I would really not like to see at all are here but not limited to: Iron Bull/Any Of The Chargers (the power dynamics really squick me out), Cole/Anyone, Anders/Anyone, Blackwall/Any Female Characters, Solas/Any Female Characters, Cullen/Any Female Characters, any pairings that don’t acknowledge Sera and Dorian as gay or disrespect Krem’s gender identity, Dalish/Any Male Characters, Skinner/Any Male Characters, Male Hawke/Any Female Characters, Female Hawke/Any Male Characters, Fenris/Anders, Fenris/Isabela, Fenris/Dorian, Krem/Dorian, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Female Inquisitor/Blackwall, and Female Inquisitor/Solas.

I know this is a lot to take in, but you’re doing great. Onto the prompts!

Dagna/Shaper Valta

Talk about rare pairs, am I right? You don’t have to dig much deeper than the Deep Roads for these two. Still, I think there’s something to these two. I found their similarities rather striking; they’re both intelligent, relentless in their pursuit of their work, they see Orzammar for what it is, both of their fathers disagreed with what they chose to do, they don’t have any regrets regarding their decisions, etc. Valta also talked about the Titan in a very similar way to how Dagna talked about the Fade if you let her study the samples from Adamant. I think they’d really hit it off. I would love to see them talking shop or reminiscing about their lives in Orzammar.

Colette/Lace Harding

And the rare pairs get even rarer. Colette is Professor Bram Kenric’s sword wielding city elf assistant you meet in the Jaws of Hakkon DLC who’s attending the University of Orlais. (Here are a couple clips of her; skip to 1:47 for this one.) She’s researching the early Tevinter temple ruins in the Frostback Basin and how they relate to Inquisitor Ameridan. If you chat with her, she’ll tell you about the discrimination she faces as an elf attending an Orlesian university and comments on how elven assistants are common, but get no credit for their research. Professor Kenric is the exception. She’s very driven and determined to succeed in her work and it shows; that’s something she and Lace have in common. Kenric also mentions that Lace has brought artifacts back to camp for them, so I’m sure that she and Colette have at least met before.

I don’t have anything specific in mind, but something that you could have a lot of fun with is a Road to El Dorado style piece with Lace helping Colette search for an artifact in a particular ruin and possibly fighting off some Hakkonites together heroically. Bonus points if they end up having to rescue Professor Kenric and the Chargers show up as the cavalry along with Lace being an adopted Charger.

Dalish/Skinner

Okay, so just hear me out because this prompt's a little convoluted, but it could be hilarious.

So, we know that merchant families in Antiva have their feuds like anyone else. Let's say that for reasons, one of them in particular decides to retaliate by the Montilyets' rise to power by planning to kidnap Yvette. Rather than allow her sister to stay in Val Royeaux or potentially draw the mercenaries to Skyhold, Josephine chooses to take out a contract and have The Bull's Chargers kidnap her instead and take her somewhere safe to watch over her while she investigates the plot and brings the would-be kidnappers to justice.

Contrary to expectations, Yvette is a delight. She takes to the Chargers' lifestyle surprisingly well and it's just the inspiration she needed as an artist to really flourish, except she develops a huge crush on Dalish. At first, it's completely harmless and just a lot of starry eyed wistful gazing and overwrought elvhen motifs in her sketches. Skinner's not happy, but is pacified by The Iron Bull's litany of "you could literally eat her alive, she's practically a baby, we just have to get through this one job and you'll never have to see her again". Then, despite efforts to discourage it, Yvette's crush on Dalish starts getting too big to ignore and on top of all that, her girlfriend shows up.

Who is Yvette's girlfriend? I don't know. Maybe she's a Tal Vashoth pirate who automatically sets Bull on edge, maybe she's a shady apostate with a penchant for blood magic and betrayal, maybe she's a noblewoman from a disgraced house who supposedly goes through young women like tissues. It's up to you! All I ask is all's well that ends well. I want a lighthearted romp, not heavy drama. I've tagged the pairings with Josephine that I prefer most for this piece, but if you'd like to pair her with Vivienne, Sera, or Lace Harding, I wouldn't be opposed. Pentilyet doesn't really do it for me.

Female Inquisitor/Cassandra Pentaghast

Something I feel that the Cassandra romance genuinely missed out on was the possibility of an interfaith relationship between her and the Inquisitor (besides the obvious lack of not being able to romance her with a female character). I would really like to see that explored in fic.

How does she handle a partner with a belief system radically different from hers (Dalish, the Qun, the Stone, Avaar, Chasind, whatever the Vashoth or Tal Vashoth might believe in) or a nonbeliever? How much does the degree of faith affect their relationships? How do the Chantry's views on them get in the way? If her partner's actually considered to be clergy (or was before the Inquisition, such as a Keeper, an augur, a tamassran, etc.), how does she come to terms with that? Does anyone in the Inquisition help her through this trial? Do any couples who deal with these cultural differences aid her?

I don’t want to see any unhappy endings with this one, but feel free to explore it as much as you possibly can and don’t be afraid to get bitter or dark. Smut is not necessary for this prompt, but if you feel the urge, I always appreciate it, especially if it’s pseudoreligious sex full of allegories. That’s my shit.

Shokrakar

My giant women, how I love them.

I just really want some Shokrakar smut, especially if you can expand on the Valo Kas and how they fit in. I'm always down for plot with my porn. I would prefer to see her paired with any of the female characters in Inquisition, but especially Josephine, Cassandra, or Vivienne.

And that’s everything! Thanks for reading! I can’t wait to see what you do. Good luck!

Best,

        Fille