#rip to me not doing any of my Lavellans

[waluigisgaybf]

THIS TOOK ME A HOT SEC, and I totally feel like I somehow cheated because theres 3 sets of siblings so there doesnt appear to be much variety 😳😳😳 heres the picrew!

THANK YOU VERY MUCH @numbaoneflaya for tagging meeeee- Literally the only person I can think of rn tag is @the-rxven-king????

Alphonse Overa | Avie Overa

Meiji Redgrave | Beatrice Redgrave

Nigel Maevrie | Reid Maevrie

Miris Tabris | Cassian Surana

(Rip cause Bea is only 10 but I couldnt make her look younger, and extra rip for me purposly giving Meiji fun anime hair so no option looked right)

[psalacanthea]

Are we going to talk about how scary being the Inquisitor is for a Lavellan or…?

I mean, the more and more I have played this game, the more the Chantry shit is terrifying. Over and over again, you see painful and irrefutable evidence about the shit humans did to elves in the name of the Maker. The Exalted Plains is an obvious example.  (I consistently call it Dirthavaren you don’t like it fight me bitch) 

Like I think the entire fandom can agree on fuck that bitch sister Amity. The Chantry crusades destroyed what was left of the elves, destroyed them. Culture, body and spirit. Like be honest, there aren’t many Dalish clans left and each time a new game/book comes around, another one bites the dust. It’s so easy to lose your clan in Inquisiton and even easier to accidentally kill off Marethari’s. Hell, you can choose to kill Zathrian’s. 

The Dalish are dying out, any way you slice it.

Then suddenly a hole rips open in the sky and everybody thinks Lavellan did it. It destroys the Conclave…don’t tell me for one second that the humans didn’t immediately start developing an ‘elves and vengeance and antiMaker’ conspiracy theory. The ‘remain silent’ dialogue option in that first interaction isn’t a stoic ‘I don’t give a fuck’ to me, it’s more of a ‘whatever I say doesn’t matter I’m already dead’ for a Dalish Inquisitor. 

The true horror is knowing that they wont just kill you, they’ll call for a bloodbath on elves across Thedas.

“For the elves were guilty of the greatest sin, of turning from the Maker.”

You’ve damned them all and you can’t even remember how or why. For a First, it must be terrifying to realize even if you try to diplomatically talk your way out of it, they’ll never believe you. As a hunter or warrior, you know it’s hopeless. All you can do is throw yourself forward as the villain, claim that whatever happens you acted alone and take as many of these shems out with you as you can.  As a mage you know if they take pity on you, you’re condemned to their mage-slavery prisons.

“Whatever you think I did, I’m innocent!”

But then they believe you (barely, like thank the Creators the Lavellan clan taught you how to talk to humans civilly and not panic) but it’s basically a hostage situation. There’s one other elf with you and even if he’s not Dalish thank Mythal because shit you were scared and you’re still scared but at least it’s something. His name is ‘Pride’. You take it as a sign from the Creators that it’s not time to give up yet. Suledin, you think.

There is an orb, a weapon that caused this. Solas tells you it’s elven and your heart sinks.

“Eventually, the humans will find a way to blame elves…”

You become Inquisitor and things are a little better but the humans call you Herald of Andraste. You don’t believe in their Maker but none of them care. You know your clan would feel betrayed, think you’ve given up your gods. You haven’t of course but the terror is there…what if the gods think you’ve given up them? You talk to Cassandra and Leliana, trying to understand the human chantry and maybe figure out a way for your two beliefs to coexist. 

 But no.

You realize it wont help. Cassandra talks about spreading the Maker’s word to all corners of Thedas…you remember the lonely howls of the wolves across Dirthavaren. You know what ‘spreading the Makers word’ means. Leliana at least acknowledges what the Chantry did, but she dismisses it with words. All those lives and hopes and dreams dismissed with the words ‘that hate won’t just go away if you dissolve the Chantry’. You understand what she really means, though. 

She’s saying that the hate will never go away, not until the elves are just like humans. The Chantry will never stop.  She says she wants elves to be part of the chantry so they survive and you try not to taste bile in the back of your throat when you think of what that means.

“My father says humans are like weeds that choke out the grass…”’

Slowly, slowly, slowly...they consume you.

[rosella-writes]

Fanwork Friday Funday

Rules: If you’re tagged, MAKE A NEW POST to showcase ONE fanartist and/or fanfic for any fandom you recommend (with links). Then tag someone to give their recs next! Don’t forget to reblog the rec you were tagged in, and include these rules! :) If you have more than one person to highlight, consider spreading it out!

Bonus: Choose works by people you aren’t super tight with, or choose older works that maybe haven’t gotten some love in a while. :)

Thank you for the tag @dreadfutures. 💚 I have a writer I'd love to give a shout-out to, as he's doing amazing work and characterises Solas in a really moving, authentic way that gives me so much joy.

writer: @broodwolf221 | @bitterling (ao3)

I first encountered Brood's work through dadwc when he joined and began writing some of the most thoughtful Solas rarepairs I'd seen in some time. His writing is moving, his characterisations of not only Solas but Varric, Bull, and so many others are just masterful, and I really enjoy his writing. Thank you for sharing your talent, Brood. 💚

Here's some of my faves:

Fic: Seeker's Succor

While traveling, Cassandra reflects on how things have changed between her and Solas.

This fic is a sweet glimpse into Cassandra's mind and romantic heart, where her respect and love for a certain apostate has begun to grow. It has so much I love about the ship and really encapsulates Cassandra's sense of duty, her suspicion and devout faith, but also her softness and how she looks for the best in others.

Fic: A Show of Appreciation

Prompt: "Wait, that's mine. You fixed it?" While still in Skyhold, Solas surprises Varric with a kind gesture—and, really, such a thing deserves a proper thanks.

For those of us hungry for Varric x Solas, Brood sure does deliver. This one is so cute with its overwhelming sense of friendship over the entire fic, from the beginning where Solas mends a rip in Varric's jacket, all the way to the *ahem* heartfelt expression of thanks.

I tag forward, to recommend fics about Thedas at large or about Solas (if you're up for it - otherwise, any fics or fanart recs will be appreciated <3 )

@wolfs-dawn | @fadedsweater | @doctormage | @sugawara-kkoushi | @sidhelives | @little-lightning-lavellan

[thekrazykeke]

Disclaimer: BioWare and EA owns Dragon Age and all its affiliated franchises. I just play in their sandbox.

Title: eternal

Summary: “Life's greatest purpose is to live it for something that will live on longer than you.”

Pairing(s): Solas x Female Lavellan. Solas x Atisha. 

Warning(s): Angst, soulmate AU, vague Inquisition spoilers, ableist language, Atisha isn't in a good mental space, y'all, depression

Atisha used to think of soulmates as something romantic growing up. 

Beautiful. 

And why not? All around her, in her clan, many were paired up already or met their match amongst other clans. Everyone was if not happy, then at the least, content with their soulmate. That was her belief—an unequivocal fact. 

All she had to do was wait and be patient.

Everyone became confused when they realized she hadn’t found her match by the time she turned seventeen, as that was the usual standard. Luckily, she was still growing up at a normal rate and no signs of her aging stopping yet, so research was conducted, and records were scoured. Letters sent out. 

Only to encounter dead end after dead end after dead end. 

Left only with myths and stories, Clan Lavellan was forced to admit defeat. There were only three possibilities: she had no soulmate, they were dead, or they weren’t born yet. 

None of these options particularly appealed to her yet she accepted the reality; a feat that took her clan a bit longer to do but they eventually adopted her pragmatic attitude and didn’t bother her about it any further. 

Ten years later, crippled, and permanently stuck at the age of an elven woman in her early thirties despite being forty-two, Atisha no longer thought that soulmates as something romantic and beautiful. 

Not when she knew her soulmate and all of this stings of bitter irony.

“Vhenan…” 

Forcing herself to breathe calmly, slowly her gaze flitted from the side up to his face. “Solas,” At least her voice remained even, controlled. “Rook managed to get you free from the Fade. That was very big of them. I rather expected they’d leave you there indefinitely.”

Solas grimaced. “...yes. We…have come to an understanding,” The words are simple. Yet conveyed some hidden meaning Atisha didn’t have the energy to decipher. Instead, she nodded and said nothing. The silence dragged on for a long beat and as he realized that she wasn’t going to speak, he coughed awkwardly. 

“...There is no easy way to say this…”

As entertaining as it’d have been to watch him struggle to find words ten years ago, such a thing rang hollow for her now, at this moment. “Then don’t. I’ll clarify: we are soulmates and it means nothing,” Atisha interjected. Solas stared at her. “I’m only here to help clean up this catastrophe.”

It was his turn to glance away from her now. “...do you mean the blighted elven gods, or myself specifically?”

That threw her for a loop. “What?”

As he turned to glance at her again, his gaze was collected and distant. “Our bond means nothing to you. So theoretically, you can easily do away with me as any other enemy,” Placing his hands behind his back, he stared at her with infuriating stoicism. “I humbly await your judgment, Inquisitor.” 

Placing her hand to her temple, feeling a headache steadily coming on, Atisha scoffed. “It’s nice to know you think the worst of me.” 

His expression flickered, features beginning to show some remorse. 

Unwilling to give him a chance to get one over her again, she continued, saying, “Regardless, your fate is not in my hands at all, with the Inquisition disbanded years ago, as everyone very well knows. So you’d better learn to humble yourself to Varric or Rook as quickly as possible,” Yanking her hand away from her head and letting it fall to the side, she spun around to leave the area. 

Only to be stopped by Solas’ hand on hers. 

It’s a loose hold, easily escapable. 

Logic demands she rip her hand free and continue to walk away, yet she remains rooted in the same spot. 

“Atisha,” And oh. 

Oh, that isn’t fair at all. 

The way he says her first name carries more impact than him saying vhenan because hadn’t that been a lie, in the end? Too many people still called her Inquisitor, some lingering sense of sentimentality amongst her former comrades. Dorian called her Lavellan and a plethora of endearments to be cheeky, but more sincerely, just his dearest friend. 

Only her clan still called her by name now. And Solas. Even back then, rare as it’d been, he addressed her - he saw her as a person, not a symbol - and still, he does it now, too. That rocks her world. Shakes her down to the very foundation of her soul.

Gently, Solas turned her around to face him, right hand lifting her chin so they were maintaining eye contact. “...I know you’re hurt…” He pauses. “I know I hurt you, then. And now. I keep hurting you. I’m sorry. It’s not enough, it will never be enough for what I’ve put you through. What I put us both through and I…” Again, he pauses, Atisha watches him swallow. “I’m so sorry. I don’t deserve it, but please…”

A beat passes. “Please, what?” Atisha murmured.

Gradually he leaned down and his forehead rested against hers. “...Please let me show you I can be a good soulmate to you, ma vhenan.” Solas whispered, voice hushed and wet. 

“Just one last chance…”

[archonfurina]

6, 8, & 9 for the dragon age asks?

Questions 6 and 9 are kinda related for me because I looked at the companions first and came up with a character to romance them.

6. Do you have your Rook(s) planned out to any degree? If so, would you share some details or ideas you have?

My first playthrough in any DA game is always a female elf rogue for some reason. It's the one PT where I just do what I feel is right and don't really roleplay (except as myself I guess?) and where I make horrible decisions because I don't know any better (rip to both Hawke siblings and the entire clan Lavellan).

8. What faction are you most excited to learn more about?

The Veil Jumpers!!! I saw that and was like omg. I love exploring old ruins in games and I hope we get to do that.

9. Which romance, if any, do you plan to pursue first?

I came up with rough ideas for a male pc to romance Davrin and female pc for Bellara, since I'm most interested in those two. It can change as we get more information and as I'm playing the game but because I'm still only cautiously optimistic that the game is really released at that time and in a playable state, I don't want to get too excited yet.

[DA Veilguard ask game]

[enasallavellan]

Cast of Characters

Hey guys! So I saw a really cute picrew here, and I wanted to share some of the images of my favorite OCs from my fics. OC from my new fic is below the cut (so this post doesn't stretch on and on for mobile).

Enasal Lavellan:

Inquisitor in my first (still incomplete) longfic. ADHD out the wazoo and has some weird behaviors, but her sincerity and eagerness to do something good wins people over.

Shiral Lavellan:

Enasals older sister. After being forced into a parental role of her sister at age 12, Shiral both deeply loves her sister but also has some resentment toward her. She worries about her and wants to protect her from the world, but unfortunately, the worry comes across as controlling and mean - she tends to infantize Enasal and still thinks of her as a little girl. Can't stand Cullen and accuses him on multiple occasions of taking advantage of her sister. Many of the denizens of Skyhold have some degree of fear of her.

Annason Garette:

Originally hired to make a dress for Enasal for a meeting with nobility. The twittering and overexcited young Orleisan is a borderline worshiper of Enasal, pleading with Josephine to become her attendant after she and Enasal spend some time together. Eventually, the worship turns into a legitimate friendship.

Serafina Tabris:

My Warden for my newer fic. Serafina was born in a crows nest in Antiva, but when templars raided and burnt the building down, she and a few other survivors were sent to her aunt's nest for five years to work in the kitchens. After an order came down for her death, she was smuggled out of Antiva and sent to her maternal uncle in Denerim. Incredibly timid and with exactly zero self confidence.

Warden Robin:

BAMF with a heat of gold, Robin acts as Duncan's second in command during the search for recruits. She quickly takes to Serafina and does everything she can to boost her confidence and help her feel safe in the camp full of men. It quickly becomes evident that this is a pattern for her, as she helps some of the other recruits with the same gentleness and skill as she does with Serafina.

On the other hand, will rip out someone's throat with her teeth if she thinks it's come to it.

Henrietta Brosca:

My usual dwarven commoner when I play DA. This trouble-making do-gooder loves nothing more than to tease and cause a ruckus. Complains about her companions' complaining by muttering, "Bicker, bitch, and bellyache." Very high energy and can be a little much for some people, but is actually incredibly smart and has a talent for lockpick and trap making.

Hanin Mahariel:

Snarky and a little bit of a pot-stirrer, Hanin tends to have problems with knowing when to stop talking and can ask some pretty obnoxious questions without really thinking them through. An expert with a bow, he can almost keep up with Leliana (though he never actually beats her) and absolutely demolishes Zevran when he quips about knowing how to shoot as well.

Cosette Amell:

A soft-hearted mage who holds tight to romantic and divine ideals. She is a skilled fire mage and delights in using her magic to set darkspawn ablaze. She is very sensitive and would be a pescatarian if she could. If catastrophe strikes her first thought tends to be, "But what about the animals?!"

Bonus:

Lorenzo Araiani:

Lorenzo -who probably won't appear in the fic, is Serafina's cousin. He's grumpy, generally dislikes people, and would really be happy if everyone just left him alone. It might have something to do with being a mage with stupidly strong mind-reading abilities - to the point he can hear all the thoughts of all the people around him. Gets migraines a lot. Likes a total of two people (one of which he sometimes wonders why he continues to let them breathe) and occasionally loses his shit when the headaches get bad enough,

Feel free to ask questions about any of these guys - helps me get to know them better, too!

[vendynee]

People You'd Like to Get to Know Better

I forgot I was tagged forever ago by @kal-sharok and meant to do it and never did 😅 Also combining some questions from @sillyliterature 's post bc why not :)

Favorite Color: Crimson Red and Sapphire Blue

Currently Reading: I mostly read fanfic nowadays but I did start rereading Six of Crows recently.

Last Song: Thinkin' Bout Me by Morgan Wallen

Last Series: Technically going through a Shameless rewatch with my partner but we can't watch it consistently. Before that it was Shadow and Bone (rip 😭).

Sweet, Savory, or Spicy?: Savory. My sweet tooth has been slowly dying as I'm getting older 🥲 and I can't handle spicy food for the life of me.

Currently Working On: Now I'm starting to get ready for finals but besides that I have some little oneshot WIPs I'm slowly chipping away at. Also been playing through DA2 several times over.

Three Ships:

Fenhawke (Fenris and Hawke, Dragon Age 2) -- More specifically Fenoah, which is Fenris and my Hawke, Noah. But I'm a sucker for Garrett or any other m!Hawke with Fenris. I just love that broody elf so much he deserves so much love and happiness.

Fenhanders (Fenris, Hawke, and Anders, Dragon Age 2) -- I am a sucker for polycules what can I say. Fenris and Anders are great enemies/rivals to lovers with Hawke being the glue that keeps them all together. Love it.

Pavellan (Dorian Pavus and Lavellan, Dragon Age: Inquisition) -- Dorian is such a sweetheart and Lavellan is my favorite inquisitor (which is why all five of my inkies are Lavellans 😅). I romance Dorian on every run because he's just so sweet.

Last Film: I couldn't even tell you it's been so long since I've seen a movie. I do plan on watching Barbie and FNAF eventually though. Dunno when.

Currently Watching: I still have to finish Shadow and Bone 😅. Also was in the middle of a Heartstopper rewatch and got distracted.

Currently Consuming: Everything Dragon Age. In the middle of my fourth DA2 playthrough rn and I recently bought all of the comics to read.

Currently Craving: I could use a margarita rn ngl 🤭

Tagging: Anyone who's interested :) I feel annoying tagging people so if you wanna do this consider yourself tagged

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [1247]

“You're not the sort of type to say you don't believe in magic, are you?” Dr. Pavus asks, handing Ellan another cup of water. This one Ellana manages to hold on her own, though Dr. Pavus’ hand lingers close in case she falters. “We get those sort now and again. It’s always rough. Sera, Varric, Malika — those names mean nothing to you, of course. But they’re prime examples of people who all got the same metaphorical and literal veil ripped from their eyes, same as you, but took it in vastly different ways.”

The magic and supernatural are real. Ellana doesn’t struggle with that concept. Ellana’s hand a many headed wolf haunting her since practically birth. What Ellana struggles with is —

“But why me?” Ellana asks. “There’s nothing special about me.”

“Oh, I know,” Dr. Pavus nods. “Trust me, we all know. We’ve gone through your family lineage from to back almost ten generations now. Your family does have immaculate tracing by the by. It’s very impressive. Most people who aren’t in the possession of obscene and frankly dubious amounts of wealth don’t keep track past their great grand parents. But yes. No offense meant, but your family tree’s only distinguishing feature is that it’s remarkably intact and traceable. No one of note — well, not for our purposes. I’m sure that somewhere along those branches there’s someone important in some way.”

“We’re regular people with blue and white collar jobs. Upper middle class is the best it’s ever gotten for us.” Though certainly not the worst. “You can say it. We’re average. It isn’t an insult.”

“For some people it is.” Dr. Pavus shrugs. He crosses his legs, resting his elbow on his knee as he leans his chin on his fist. “And then there’s you. Ellana Lavellan. I’m technically not a medical professional you know. I am a scientist. I do have a doctorate. But I am not a medical professional. In a pinch I suppose I could be helpful to someone with actual medical knowledge. I’m a biologist. And, in the Inquisition, a part time mortician. I was called in to start checking your corpse.”

“I don’t feel like I’ve died.”

“I would say most people don’t, but most people don’t stay dead for seven hours and then come back to the living. You are quite special in that regard. Among others, I’m sure, but we haven’t gotten to that yet.”

“I have student loans, I live in a shared house, I work as a nurse in a retirement home,” Ellana rattles off. “I drive a second hand car that I got off of one of my cousins for cheap. I think the most expensive thing I own is my phone. There’s nothing special about me.”

“Except?”

Ellana closes her eyes, sitting back against the raised up head of the hospital bed.

“An affectation of childhood that grew with me.”

“There it is.”

“But my question isn’t as to whether that’s unusual or not. I know it is. If you say it’s magic or ghosts or whatever, then it probably is. I don’t have a better way to explain it. My question is — why me? Why did it choose me?”

“That’s what we’d all love to know.”

Ellana opens her eyes to see the woman from earlier has returned, again flanked by the same Qunari man and also joined by a red headed woman.

“I’m Evelyn Trevelyan,” the first woman says. “I’m the leader of the Inquisition. I trust Dorian’s explained everything by now?”

“Enough of it,” Ellana answers.

“This is Leliana, and this is the Iron Bull. They’re also members of the Inquisition. We’re going to try and sort out what’s going on here and see what we can do.” Evelyn pulls up a plastic chair next to Dr. Pavus’. “And I understand that this is a lot, especially if you weren’t born into it or given any gradual lead in. If you need to take a break you can say so. You aren’t under arrest, you aren’t being charged with anything. You are remanded into our custody, but you aren’t a prisoner. You can make phone calls, you can use your phone, browse the internet, go on social media, fact check everything if you want to. Within reason. We’d greatly prefer if you didn’t do a selfie and then tag this place. This was explained to you, right?”

Ellana nods. Someone had returned her phone earlier and helpfully loaned her a charger with an extra long cable, which is plugged into the wall next to her bed. Her bag had been salvaged from the scene of — whatever that car chase was — and is sitting on a table near the door. She’d half-heartedly gone through it earlier. Everything was there.

“What we would like to have explained to us,” Leliana says, “Is why the Acolytes of the Wolf seemed to be chasing after you.”

“I’m sure you’d like that explained to you also.”

Ellana shrugs. “As Dr. Pavus and I were saying to each other, there’s nothing special about me at all.”

“Everyone has something special about them,” Leliana says. “I’m not saying this to be nice.”

“She rarely says anything to be nice,” The Iron Bull says.

“I mean. I, myself, have nothing special about me. There’s no reason for any of this to come to me,” Ellana explains. “I’m pathetically average in every way. Whatever talents or traits of mine that come above that are balanced out by the ones that fall below. There’s only one thing special about me and I have no idea why — if it’s connected to any of this — it would choose me of all people.”

“What is it?”

Ellana’s eyes slide behind all of them, to the wall, the door. She’d seen it when people were coming in and out. The wolf. Shrunk down small enough to fit in the hallway of whatever kind of building she’s in. But its many eyes were still open. Watching her. Its mouths slightly open and panting.

“The wolf,” Ellana answers calmly. “The many headed wolf.”

[arainayeet]

iori surana the most powerful fucker in thedas

[notebooks-and-laptops]

Welcome to my blog! Here you'll find OFMD brainrot (particularly Izzy/Ed/Stede) and Dragon Age ramblings.

For context, some of my Dragon Age OC’s. From right to left, top to bottom, we have:

Ambeth Lavellan: an elven warrior, Ambeth has no interest in being the inquisitor. Unfortunately, her protestations have fallen mostly on deaf ears. My only inquisitor who is also a mother, Ambeth is keenly aware of her son back with her clan. Her romance with Cullen was a slow, soft thing. 

Alexandria ‘Alex’ Hawke: A soft, diplomatic girl who holds the world on her shoulders and always sees the good in those around her, Alex Hawke has a group of friends that would kill to keep her safe. She is immensely in love with her wife Merrill.

Merripen Lavellan: Merripen Lavellan was born a twin, and when his brother died from the plague, he devoted his life to Falon’Din, Elven God of Death and Fortune. Now, he lives a supposedly quiet life with The Iron Bull, although rumours abound about his close contact with his previous Spy Master and one Dorian Pavus, and what plans he may have for the future.

Aiden Hawke: my canon Hawke, my beloved, my angry boi, my favourite. Full of rage, Aiden started ripping the world apart when his sister was taken to the circle. He fell in love with Anders because of the work Anders was doing for the mage underground, a course he violently believed in. He was very, very tragic and very, very angry and I loved him with my whole soul.

DeLila Cadash: my canon inquisitor, my beloved, my girl, my favourite. The youngest of six, a warrior and a closet nerd, DeLila found a family in the inquisition she never thought she'd have. She misses them all dearly, but loves running rooftops with her wife, infamous Red Jenny Sera (extra pics and info: x x x)

Queen Lillian Hawke: A power hungry blood mage, Lillian finds it mildly funny that her friends, even her biographer, all also kinda hate her. Her relationship with Sebastian led to her claiming the title of Queen of Starkhaven, along with Champion of Kirkwall and Provisional Viscount of Kirkwall. 

Aban Adaar: my sweet, shy mage qunari who loves gardening and his wife Lady Josephine Montilyet (extra pics and info: x x x x)

Jenny Hawke: Crazy, sacrastic, and a little obsessed with gold coin (if prone to over-spending with them), Jenny deflected all her problems with sarcasm. She also had a weakness for pirate queens. 

Rust Cadash-Rainier: whatever her original name was, it's been lost to time. Now she goes by Rust and is learning to cook eggs with her husband (who, rumour has it, may once have been a war criminal, if one can believe the kindly man who spends his free time making toys for children is the same Thom Rainier that Orlais tried to execute), and also fighting to put a stop to Solas's stupidity (fightings in her bones, she could never put down her daggers) (extra pics and info x x x)

Thank you to everyone who puts up with me talking about these idiots, and the many more I'm no doubt likely to create and talk about in the future - my asks are always open if you have any questions about any of them, from which songs I think fit them to their backstories to the choices they made in game x

Some links to other things you may be interested in (because tumblr only lets you pin one post at a time):

I run two discord groups: a Dragon Age one, and an OFMD SteddyHands centric One. Both are 18+. If you want a link to either, please message me and we'll sort something out. Both are v chill communities.

All my writing can be found here on Ao3

My Mod Recs for each Dragon Age game can be found here (I’ll try and keep these vaguely updated too): Dragon age Origins, Dragon age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition

My Solas Romance Review can be found here (one day when I have time I’ll review all the romances in Dragon Age but alas, not yet)

Some fic rec lists of other peoples fics! Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus , Geralt/Jaskier

The Dragon Age fic data I collected can be found here (Nov 2021): Dragon Age Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition

[plunnies-n-shit]

It's late, midnight moonlight through a half-covered window, and The Iron Bull had been woken by a step just too heavy on packed snow only to find Lavellan on his rooftop. The wind rips through The Iron Bull's thin sleeping pants, bites at his bare skin.

Lavellan is maybe half his size, skin and bones and svelte corded muscle. The Iron Bull can't imagine they're handling the cold any better.

But Lavellan just stares at him, cat-slit green eyes intense and unwavering, and The Iron Bull is... well, he is a Qunari. He's never felt small in his life. But he certainly feels like a mouse right now, out in the open, frozen still in hopes that a predator will pass him by.

He should ask. Ask Lavellan to come down. Ask Lavellan what they're doing up this late. Ask Lavellan if something's wrong.

Instead, he pushes through his frozen blood, his aching joints, and heads back inside. Leaves his door open behind him, almost on instinct. Like it is Known-- the Qunari are not a spiritual people, but anyone will tell you that if you leave your doors open in the moonlight, you can't be surprised if spirits follow you in.

Lavellan closes the door behind them. Sits politely at The Iron Bull's low table, ankles under their thighs, hands folded in their lap. Still watching him as he moves across his kitchen. It's too late for food, and he doesn't have much in the way of drink, water and some beer that Varric promised him he'll like.

Hot water is better than nothing, he decides, on a night like this. Hot water, and some mint. 

Maybe he'll invest in some tea, if these visits become a regular thing.

Lavellan cradles the cup delicately. It can't be comfortable, too warm against too-cold skin, but they just. Hold it. Unflinchingly still. Not drinking, eyes never moving from The Iron Bull.

The Iron Bull doesn't mind. Drinks his mintwater and lets the warmth lull him back into easy comfort. It's getting cold in here again. Might be worth it to throw another log on the fireplace.

Slowly, carefully, Lavellan takes a sip of their drink.

"You need to stay here tonight, Boss?" The Iron Bull asks. He doesn't expect an answer beyond that unnerving stare, and he doesn't get one. He waits for it anyways, until the silence eases out again, and he feels like he can sleep again. Leaves his cup on the table to deal with in the morning.

The bed is cold when The Iron Bull crawls back into it, but the fireplace crackles merrily.

The foot of the bed dips under Lavellan's slight weight. Lavellan doesn't move again, and neither does The Iron Bull.

...

"Will you braid my hair for me?"

Lavellan's voice is a rough whisper, cracking from disuse. They have been silent all morning, all through cleaning themself up and eating the breakfast The Iron Bull put in front of them. He only notices their voice over the rabble of Haven waking because he's been waiting for it, tense with anticipation.

He sets the pan down into the water before he drops it. "You sure about that, Boss?"

Lavellan pushes a carrot around their mostly-empty plate as they nod. No more words, it seems, but The Iron Bull takes them at what they have said. Dries his hands on his pants as he tentatively kneels behind the Inquisitor. 

There is unease in the line of Lavellan's shoulders, discomfort at having a potential threat where they cannot see. But they don't flinch as The Iron Bull settles. They don't flinch when his big hands sweep their hair back so he can work with it.

Slowly, surely, Lavellan relaxes by inches. The Iron Bull pretends not to notice, focusing instead on the raw silk in his rough hands, heavy and thick and smooth. Well-cared-for. There's an almost religious aspect to the pride Lavellan takes in it, the same way they take pride in their skills, and their Vallaslin.

Something elfy, The Iron Bull thinks. That, or something unique to the Lavellan clan. He is, admittedly, curious, but not enough to stretch his resources to investigate, and certainly not enough to push Lavellan about it.

"You trust me?" The Iron Bull asks instead, because that he is curious enough about. Lavellan holds so few things precious, is close to so few people in Haven. But they come to his doorstep in the middle of the night. They drink the drinks he gives them. They eat the food he gives them.

They let him braid their hair.

The Iron Bull doesn't expect an answer beyond the lasting silence. Ties off the end of the braid. It falls to Lavellan's lower back. Not the prettiest work The Iron Bull has ever done-- he's out of practice.

He moves to rise to his feet, but Lavellan's hand snaps back to catch him by the wrist, tight and unyielding as iron.

Lavellan's chest heaves. There's a fine tremor through their whole, tiny body, and The Iron Bull resists the urge to soothe them. He has pushed. Can't walk that back, but he can settle back on his heels and wait.

"I am in an unfamiliar place, full of dangerous people," Lavellan finally croaks. "I am a tool to them. They use me. They lie to me and tell me that they are not using me."

Slowly, Lavellan releases his wrist.

"You use me, The Iron Bull,” Lavellan says. “You do not lie to me."

[inquisimer]

Hey! I just read one of your DWC entries about Sari Mahariel and her timelines. I liked it! Can I ask for any facts/nuggets about the story(ies?) in this 'verse? 😍😍😍

hi!! yes!! i would LOVE to tell you about my beloved Sari<3

below the cut, because i have a tendency to ramble

for a more eloquently written explanation ((and a picture)), you can check out Sari’s page here or the post here for mobile users

the dalish origin was my first da:o playthrough and I loved it, but I had this story idea recently and decided that Sari was the right oc for it and reworked her canon (in my head lol) to suit it

hers is one of two long fics I’m actively working on, but it isn’t posted (yet). hopefully it will be soon, once i’ve got enough raw content and really felt out the world state and vibes

the core of Sari’s story is that she really hecked up in the Fifth Blight (read: I had no clue how the origins interface worked lmao). She was naive and standoffish and that meant she offended a lot of people and lost a lot of opportunities. She romanced Alistair, but he died killing the archdemon and she basically said ‘fuck you’ to the Wardens and the world and left to wallow in her grief. 

Hawke in Sari’s worldstate is Léan (page here or mobile here), who is a mage, and unabashedly vocal about mage rights, in a romance with Anders. The Inquisitor is Irosyl Lavellan, Dalish First and rift mage who romanced Solas to the bitter, bitter end. She doesn’t really have a page because she mainly exists in relation to Sari’s story, but there is a picture here, no mobile version, sorry!

basically, Sari’s story starts when she’s found a cure for her Calling and returned to Ferelden; Leliana and the Inquisitor call her to be part of their ‘stop Fen’harel’ effort and she goes. The fallback plan, when they obviously can’t stop Solas, is to send Irosyl back to the Breach as a re-do. Unfortunately, the ritual goes wrong wrong wrong and Sari ends up back in Ostagar. RIP her. 

Various tidbits about Sari and her first timeline: 

she was absolutely crushing on Tamlen and buddies with Merrill

Sari stops considering herself Dalish after Nature of the Beast

When she first comes to Skyhold, the only interaction she’s had for years is with Avernus

she went after a cure for the Calling less for herself and more for others’ benefit, but she also wants to sever all ties to the Wardens

she is a rogue who started out with a bow, but now prefers dual wielding bc it’s less tied to her Dalish heritage

in the events of da2, clan Sabrae is annihilated; after the events of dai, Merrill becomes an agent of Fen’harel 

her full name, Nada’sariel, is taken from the words nadas (inevitable) and sar (yours, possessive), and means ‘your inevitable one’

so that’s Sari’s verse as it stands now! like i said, i’m actively working on this one and it is undergoing some heavy development as i write out the first draft

thank you so much for the ask!!! i’m glad you liked Sari and the drabbles for DWC, i imagine she will feature in those often for me

i appreciate you<3

[jaycrow77]

In Your Heart

--Cullen Rutherford/ Kydon Lavellan/ Dorian Pavus---

"If I'm dying-" He scowled, "-it's not today!" He planted his foot on the lever and shoved with as much might as he could muster. The handle spun rapidly as the trebuchet groaned, then soaring through the air the bolder went.

◇◇◇

Cullen wrung his hands together anxiously, heart pounding in his chest. He could only hope they were far enough away from Haven to avoid any avalanche.

"Cassandra!" Josephine yelped, running through the snow quickly.

Cullen's head shot up, running after the other two advisors.

"Did everyone make it out alright?" Cassandra asked upon approach, clearly weary and out of breath.

"Many were lost, but many have remained with us thanks to the Herald." Leliana sighed.

"About the Herald-" Cullen spoke up. The look that crossed over the trio's faces made his stomach twist into a knot.

"He told us to run." Dorian looked down to his feet, "When we looked back that damn dragon or whatever it is had him cornered."

"Is he still there? Maybe we can-"

The ground trembled violently as the side of the mountain above Haven shifted. Snow and rock tumbled down on what remained of the stronghold. The camp was quiet.

◇◇◇

"You just left him?" Cullen snapped.

Dorian rolled his eyes, "Sure, blame us for running like he told us to!"

"I'm not talking to you." Cullen jabbed a finger toward the mage.

"Cullen, there is only so much we can do. The Herald would always go his own way. He knew the risk." Josephine placed a hand on the commander's back.

It had been a few hours since the collapse of the mountainside. Not a word of news came from any of the scouts. Kydon had to be buried in the rubble and ruins of Haven. Cullen's chest tightened at the thought, how cold was he? Was he scared? Did he die alone?

"I hear him." A voice soft and timid broke the horrid silence.

"Him?" Dorian looked up from the staff he was cleaning.

"Cold. Tired. Legs hurting. How far do I go? Will they still want me? Snow hurting my eyes. I'm so tired." Cole muttered softly, wiggling his fingers in a mimic of trying to restore their blood flow.

"Cole, are you hearing Kydo-"

Cole lifted his hand slowly, pointing up to the mountain, "There."

High on the mountainside was a small flash of green. A small shimmering green light wavering and wobbling.

Cassandra nodded to Cullen, who ordered some scouts to follow him and the Seeker up the mountainside. The snow was thick and he wondered how Kydon's thin frame would handle staggering through the cold.

"There! That's him!" Cullen pointed to the slouching figure and the green hue that illuminated the nearby snow.

"Thank the Maker!" Cassandra sighed in relief.

Cullen ripped the coat from his shoulders, wrapping it around the shivering elf. Without hesitation he hooked one arm under the Herald's legs and behind his back, picking him up. He couldn't help the crooked smile on his face when the elf pressed against him, trying to leech off his warmth.

"Let's get him to a healer." Cassandra nodded back toward the camp.

◇◇◇

The mage's eyes fluttered open slowly. Kydon found himself wrapped in Cullen's coat, with a few extra blankets on him for good measure.

"Oh thank goodness." Dorian's relieved voice chimed up from beside him, "You have finally returned to the world of the living."

"Dorian?" Kydon winced as he tried to sit up, "Did we..?"

"Haven was buried, but everyone made it out in time." Dorian gripped the elf's hand, "You did it."

Cullen had dropped everything when he heard Kydon's voice from the tent. Tossing the papers down and rushing to the Herald's side.

"Maker's breath.." he whispered, "im relieved you're alright. We found you in the mountain."

"Quite frozen, in fact." Dorian laughed.

Cullen glanced at his coat draped around Kydon's shoulders. He felt a blush creep up his face as his heartbeat quickened.

"Lavender and elfroot. Gemstone eyes. Heart racing faster with every breath. How long has it been?" Cole tapped his heel on the crate he sat on.

Cullen glanced at Kydon, who's eyes were slightly closed. Hopefully the elf was too tired to hear Cole's rambles.

[archonfurina]

6 and/or 9 for the DA:V ask game!

These two questions are kinda related for me because I looked at the companions first and came up with a character to romance them.

6. Do you have your Rook(s) planned out to any degree? If so, would you share some details or ideas you have?

My first playthrough in any DA game is always a female elf rogue for some reason. It's the one PT where I just do what I feel is right and don't really roleplay (except as myself I guess?) and where I make horrible decisions because I don't know any better (rip to both Hawke siblings and the entire clan Lavellan).

9. Which romance, if any, do you plan to pursue first?

I came up with rough ideas for a male pc to romance Davrin and female pc for Bellara, since I'm most interested in those two. It can change as we get more information and as I'm playing the game but because I'm still only cautiously optimistic that the game is really released at that time and in a playable state, I don't want to get too excited yet.

[DA Veilguard ask game]

[emerald-amidst-gold]

WIP Wednesday

*gasp* Wednesday? Wednesday?! ...I love Wednesdays! >:3

Thank you @noire-pandora for the tag! I send you hugs and good vibes! X3

So, remember wet Solas? Yeah, he’s back, but so is the Dread Wolf. And like so many other shades of his sky, Fane adores without reservation.

Prelude to sub!Solas, you gorgeous people! >:D

---

That came from the...second door of the tower. Fane mused, cocking his left ear more towards the descending stairs by the entrance to his quarters. He narrowed his eyes as he heard familiar footsteps, steady, but heavy with contained anger. Third landing now. Halfway up the tower, then.

Fane stood in one spot, staying as still as the air around him and simply listening to the sounds below. A door would slam, echoing up and back along stone and wood like the magic within both did every day, every hour. He noted that those familiar footfalls would pause at specific intervals, as if overcome with the rage they carried, but they would resume within moments of a stop, still heavy, still frustrated, but refusing to let that stop them.

A storm is approaching, Fane thought, brow still furrowed, but he kept the rest of his face blank. His nose twitched as he caught the scent of ozone. It was prickly, fizzling with electricity and the very air around him was already warbling in response. That had his mask cracking, a grimace of discomfort forming as his head duly pulsed. Fast approaching. He doesn’t usually get this pissed unless something’s really set him off.

Fane knew who those volatile footsteps belonged to. He had known from the moment he’d pinpointed a bare heel grounding down upon creaky wood. The door was one thing, tons of inhabitants in the ancient fortress had less than...delicate gestures, himself included, but feet were indicative of a person, and most importantly, their mood. Even without the tell-tale signs of his sky’s magic, Fane would have known it was Solas from a hundred yards off. Having sensitive ears and already keen hearing helped in this instance, but that didn’t help him when the storm would eventually come gliding through the door.

Or rather, when a wolf, snapping and snarling, came rushing through the door with merciless intent in their piercing eyes.

Fane smirked a bit, finally registering a muffled curse as well as another lashing of ozone. The latter had his brow twitching a bit, but he kept the nausea away for the most part. He was getting better with the magic sensitivity, but like many things, it would always be there, always stick like glue.

Oh, yeah. He’s barely holding on, Fane mused, finally willing himself to move from the far end of the room to seat himself on their large bed. He lowered himself down onto the swath of fur that adorned a far too soft mattress, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. Another smirk pulled at his lips as a truly infuriated growl echoed up to his ears; it sent a shiver down Fane’s spine, but not from fear. Never from fear. Rather, he was...excited. That emotion could shift, obviously, depending on what had riled the mage up to begin with, but somehow, someway, Fane felt this frustration wasn’t from anything deathly serious.

After all, footsteps told him everything, and these ones that carried fire and purpose were wet--slapping against wood, sliding from lack of traction on a particular stair. It was highly amusing, truth be told, that something Fane himself had been the victim of had caused a very old friend to appear, one he loved like every other.

Come, Dread Wolf. Let’s see how sharp your bite still is, Fane bit into his bottom lip a bit as his smirk grew and one of his legs began to bounce, heel of his boot tapping in time with Solas’ veiled stomping. A crack sounded just two doors away along with a ripping snarl, and it had his smirk stretching despite how the scent of the Veil made his stomach jump.

Ohhh, yes. The Dread Wolf was here--wild and fierce as ever. Such emotion, even it was anger, made Fane want to nearly tear from the bed and down the stairs, but he stayed put, stayed calm. If his intuition was wrong--which it wasn’t--then he would shift and quell the raging tempest as best he could, but if it were right…

Well, there was a reason the Elvhen had called him, ‘The Dread Dragon’. A wolf’s bite may be crushing, this one especially so, but a dragon’s gaze could bring even the most dangerous being to heel. And Fane knew, from how the Anchor suddenly fizzled to life and cracked in time with a crack in the stairwell, and how the blend of anger which was more along the lines of desperation nearly cast a fog over his mind, drowning out the pain with ease, that that was exactly what his other half wanted.  

Solas wanted to lose control, and who was he to deny his sky the release they sought? After all, a rainbow followed after a vicious downpour, and Fane did like a good menagerie of colors to join the hues of blue he adored with all his being. So, he would let the Elvhen man come, seek, and find.

What’s the old Dalish curse again? Fane pursed his lips a bit, humming quietly in thought, but let out an airy laugh as he heard a whole string of Elvhen boom from below--the owner allowing such obscenities to flow due to the safety of stone. Ah, right. May the Dread Wolf take you. He hummed again, leg slowing in its bounces and eyes narrowing as a presence could be felt by the final door--electrifying and quivering, hesitant. Or perhaps, you wish to be taken, Fen’harel? If so, then come. There’s nothing wrong with wanting; you taught me that. So, let me give you what you desire this time. Let the Dread Dragon take his Dread Wolf.

A creak, a shuddering, barely in control sigh, and Fane almost thought the man he could hear ascending, wet and far calmer, masked, had heard that which was cut off from all. But even if Solas had heard those yearning, longing thoughts, Fane wouldn't have minded since the sight of his sky, soaked to the bone with water, sharp features glistening, humble clothing appearing scandalous as they hugged, and eyes and expression alight with electricity that would put storm clouds to shame, drowned out any corruption that could have the expanse before him turning black.

The sky wished to be taken, and Fane would take it--no shame, no hesitation.

---

*sips tea casually and indicates with my chin* That’s my boy. That’s my boy. *sips tea louder*

I promise, one day allllll of these snippets will either be collective short stories or appear in my main fic. I’m doing that thing of start from the middle and work my way through, and I found it works! X3

Tag time! :D

@oxygenforthewicked @blueheaded @the-dreadful-canine @dungeons-and-dragon-age @rosella-writes @dreadfutures @little-lightning-lavellan @drag-on-age @aymayzing @varric-tethras-editor @a-drama-addict and any one else that’d like to share something lovely! <3 (no pressure, and let me know if you don’t wish to be tagged or would like to be tagged more! X3)

[shanaraharlyah]

Never Gonna Be Alone part 2

“Oh, You've gotta live every single day, Like it's the only one, what if tomorrow never comes? Don't let it slip away, Could be our only one, you know it's only just begun Every single day, May be our only one, what if tomorrow never comes? Tomorrow never comes

Time, is going by, so much faster than I, And I'm starting to regret not telling all of this to you.

You're never gonna be alone! From this moment on, if you ever feel like letting go, I won't let you fall, When all hope is gone I know that you can carry on We're gonna take the world on I'll hold you 'till the hurt is gone ”

~Chad Kroeger & Mutt Lange

---

Part 2 of my Dragon Age Inquisition Trespasser fic snippet below cut for possible spoilers.    Takes place during the time skip between cutscenes at the end of the DLC.  

Dorian Pavus x Kartaelin Lavellan

@14daysdalovers Prompt: Breathless Kisses

Image setup and Rendered in DAZ Studio 4.15.  Postwork in Photoshop Elements 8.0.

Bigger Here

Part 1

From behind the pair, two sets of footfalls rushed toward them, one heavy, the other fleet, and The Iron Bull and Sera soon came around into view.

"Hey, Boss.  Looks like you made it in time."

"Hi, Bull, he was here for me, he never needed our help.  He tipped us off in order to save the South from the Qunari attacks and to get me here, to save me."

"Shite!" exclaimed Sera as she came around in front of the pair sitting on the ground.  "What happened to your arm?  Dorian, how can you hold it against you like that!?"  Her face scrunched up aghast at the sight of it.

Dorian raised an eyebrow at the crude elf, "That's where you draw the line, is it?  You'll hand someone a glass of piss to drink for shits and giggles, but you can't abide the touch of a friend's ghastly wound!?"

"I'll have to remember that one," Sera giggled with a grin on her face, "but no, that's not what I meant, and you know it.  Ugh!  Frustrating people are... frustrating!"

"It's alright, Sera," interjected Kartaelin, always the calming voice amongst his friends.  "You don't have to touch it.  Solas removed it to stop the anchor from killing me."

"Double shite," replied Sera.  "So... you're okay now, yeah?  It still doesn't look like it's good, is all.  So, what's next?"

"We need to get him back to Orlais, and to a proper healer," answered Dorian.

"Can you walk, Boss?" Bull asked.

"I think so.  The anchor is no longer wracking my body, there's just a throbbing and occasional pain when I move my arm.  It's odd, there's a distinct sensation that it's all still there, but then I remember..."  Kartaelin moved to get up, but the Tevinter would have none of it. 

"You're in shock, I can't have you falling down the stairs and cracking your skull on the pavement on our way out of here.  Can you imagine, walking into the Winter Palace, 'Where is the Inquisitor?', 'Oh, we allowed him to lead us back after having his arm amputated, and gee, well, he fell down the stairs and into the abyss.  Can you believe it!'  Leliana and Josephine will have all of our heads after the effort they've put into saving this organization.  So, no, I'll carry you.  Bull, can you gather his things?"  Dorian sighed, “Sometimes I feel like I should be in the one in charge."

The Iron Bull nodded and gathered the Inquisitor's belongings.  

"I like it when you take charge," said Kartaelin huskily, the familiar lopsided grin that had been absent these last few days finally returning to his face.  

Knowing where this was headed, Bull ushered Sera toward the stairs amidst loud protests.  As much as he'd also like to stick around and enjoy the show, he knew they needed to get back to the Exalted Council and the healers at the palace, and the only way to hurry the two love birds along was to leave them behind.

"Festis bei umo canavarum!" exclaimed the mage, wiping the remaining tears from his eyes.  "Is this really the time or place for this?  ...You're just lucky that I love you so much."

"I am," Kartaelin replied coyly, wrapping his hand in his lover’s leather collar and pulling him closer to him.  He craned his neck until his lips met Dorian's and he peppered him with soft kisses.  It was the least he could do after worrying him so terribly.  They'd both feared his impending doom on account of the mark, and Dorian took it especially hard.  He'd put up a wall around his heart a long time ago to prevent himself from being hurt by anyone, but the Inquisitor had broken right through, and the thought of him being taken from him so soon tore him up inside.

Slowing his ministrations to one final passionate kiss and savoring the moment, Kartaelin pressed his forehead to Dorian's.  "I'm sorry I worried you so much, ma vhenan.  I never wished to cause you hurt."

"I know, amatus.  I just... I couldn't bear to lose you like this," Dorian replied, choking up again.  "The thought of the one bright spot in my life being ripped away by ancient elven magic, just..."

The Inquisitor reached up to cup Dorian’s face with his hand, tenderly caressing his cheek with his thumb.  "It's alright, Dorian, I'm safe now.  Solas has bought us time, but we have more work to do.  We should get back to the council.  I'll fill you in on the way."  He leaned in for one more kiss before the Tevinter could reply, taking his breath away.

Pulling back slowly, his lip caught playfully by the Inquisitor, Dorian gently gathered the elf into his arms.  "You are right of course, but what's all this 'bought us time' business?"  With a grunt he stood, the Inquisitor held tightly against his chest, "You are heavier than you look.  Eating too many of those fancy tea cakes Solas likes so much?"

Kartaelin let out a hearty laugh, "I suppose there's no chance of you changing your mind about letting me walk out of here under my own power then?"

"Not a chance," Dorian smiled, heading back toward the stairs and the exit.

"Well, we could ask Bull to carry me if I'm too heavy for you," Kartaelin smirked.

"Truly?  This is how you treat me after the moment we've just shared!?  I should drop you right where we stand," Dorian replied in mock irritation.

"And what would the others say?" Kartaelin teased.

"They'd agree with me, you little shit!" countered the mage.  "Then they'd come back to get you anyway....  Remind me again, why is it that I love you?"

"This IS why you love me," Kartaelin sassed.

Dorian sighed, "Well, you're not wrong.  Tell me, were you always this antagonizing?"

"It's just for you.  You bring out the best in me, Dorian," the elf responded.  "Or the worst, depends on how you look at it.  Either way, you wouldn't want it any other way."

"Maker, what did I do to deserve this!?" Dorian mused in exasperation.

Kartaelin just smiled.  Pressing his injured arm against his own chest, the Inquisitor placed his hand over Dorian's heart and rested his head against his shoulder.

"Oh, the things I'm going to do to you tonight," the Tevinter mage muttered under his breath.

"I look forward to it," Kartaelin quipped, nuzzling the jaw of the man he adored.

"Of course, you do," Dorian breathed.  He still worried about the ‘bought time’ remark, but he trusted the elf wouldn’t keep him in the dark for long.  He had to accept that right here, right now he was holding his amatus in his arms and they were both alive and safe for the moment.