#that fic where solas saves a saarebas

[rosella-writes]

Fanfic Writer Questions

Thanks for the tag @plisuu 💚 I’ll go ahead and loop in @sulky-valkyrie @darethshirl @inquisimer @demarogue and @exalted-dawn if they like but no pressure.

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 102

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 520k

3. What fandoms do you write for? Most recently Dragon Age, but I’ve written for Fallout, Skyrim, Sherlock, and Twilight in the past.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Needle and the Shield (Alistair/Zevran tattoo smut)

don’t feed me (I will come back) (Male Lavellan/Dorian/Solas threesome smut)

pick a star from the sky (Solas Holds a Baby)

Basvaraad (Solas saves a saarebas)

Demands of the Arishok (Arishok/Female Hawke)

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes! Eventually. I keep them in my inbox for a while and just look at em.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? It’s hard to chooooose but I think the gift I wrote for @dreadfutures focusing on two Mahariels and the loss of Tamlen to the Blight is a pretty angsty one.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? This Solas x Cassandra piece is the fluffiest and happiest thing I have in my catalogue I think, mainly because I ended it before the breakup lol.

8. Do you get hate on fics? I used to in older fandoms.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Oh yes, all kinds. Usually of the poly/kinky/queer variety.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? Dragon Age/the Green Knight lol

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I don’t think so?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? A couple times, mainly with friends just for fun! It’s challenging but worth it if you don’t get hung up on where it’s heading or when you finish.

14. What's your all time favorite ship? I’m such a sucker for solavellan but all time? Nine x Rose

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? My old longfic, Eunoia. It’s just very unlike anything I write now or want to pursue plotwise.

16. What are your writing strengths? Dialogue and emotions and smut oh my

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Pacing and plot

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I used to be pretty particular about my Elvhen translations especially, but now I translate it and indicate what language is being spoken.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Sherlock

20. Favorite fic you've written? I’m so proud of this Loghain piece I wrote (and finished!) of his time serving the Inquisition.

Blank form under the cut!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

5. Do you respond to comments?

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

16. What are your writing strengths?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

20. Favorite fic you've written?

[magneticmage]

Fic drabbles;

"Do you ever miss it?"

Armashok Adaar set down his staff as he wearily collapsed onto the log by the evening campfire and turned his horned head towards The Iron Bull, "The Qun or Par Vollen?"

There was a brief pause before he shrugged, "Both."

Armashok scratched at his beard, "Yes and no. Some days more than others."

"Even though you are a saarebas?" The question lacked the malice of most Qunari, the unspoken question of where his araavard was. But it still rattled something sharp in his chest. A reminder of why he had left so many, many years ago.

"Even then," He admitted quietly, "The Qun was about purpose and direction and control. Something I felt I needed for a long time. Before I met my current araavad and wife, Herah. She would take me somewhere secluded and direct me to practice my magic, to hone it like the warrior I once was. That it was my new asala, to replace the blade that was taken from me when my magic showed. At first, I was reluctant and refused. Then, after a mission where we nearly died but were saved by my magic, I began to understand what she'd meant. I was as much a weapon as any other saarebas, any Qunari. The difference was that I could learn to control my own magic, resist my own demons, withouttm the need for a handler."

The Iron Bull frowned, "So, you chose to be Tal-Vashoth then. To abandon the Qun because it tried to control you."

"Not quite." Armashok held up his hand and called fire to his glowing palm. His companion did not flinch away, but he could still read the wary tension in his shoulders. Cullen carried that same tension. It was a fear of mages, of magic. He did not blame them. He had been afraid once, as well.

For a moment, he let the fire dance across various parts of his arms and hands, shaping and sculpting it as a potter would raw clay. He continued speaking as the flames turned brighter, burned hotter under his control, "I have not abandoned the ways of the Qun. Not truly. I have only realized it has not served its intended purpose for me. I do believe that all things and people require guidance and something to follow, some rules to adhere to, some thing important enough to work towards for themselves-even if that is for the benefit of others. That it can become their asala. Their soul. If they want."

The Iron Bull folded his arms, "So, you think you can bend the Qun to serve your needs? How is that different than the Chantry?"

"We are all flawed mortals, Bull." He shrugged, "Organizations are as fallible as their leaders and their followers. I admire the Qun for what it can be; purpose, dedication, humility. I simply realized that I could not work within the confines set by those who had founded it as it is now. I chose to be a person in a room of people who did not wish to see me as such. I chose to value the family and love I had found within it and carry that faith beyond its reach."

The Iron Bull was quiet for a moment, seeming to take these words into consideration. What went through his head, Armashok could not say. But he was drawing comparisons to his own life, if the intense stare he gave Krem said anything.

He set a hand on his fellow qunari's shoulder, "You can honor the beliefs of the Qun and not be a member of the Qunari as a country. You can be a person in a room of people who say you are nothing more than a weapon. Think on it, but know that you will always have my help no matter the nature of the request."

Bull gave a laugh, "You finally decided to make a move on me, Boss? Gotta say I didn't expect it."

Armashok shook his head and gently headbutted him, "Tempting as you are, my handsome fellow Qunari, I am happily married. Perhaps, another time, should she ever give me permission."

He nodded and offered a drink. Armashok took it. Raising it up, he declared, "Now to drink away all those annoying existential questions for the evening, aye? Tomorrow, we fight a dragon and celebrate our victory!"

"Cheers to that," The Iron Bull responded, seemingly relieved at the change of topic.

So they drank and chatted of other things-old battles, the memories of home, their shared love of bloodshed and dragons-well into the night. When they finally headed to their tents-Armashok to his with his daughter, Kara, and Bull to his with Dorian and Pyrmar Cadash-the only ones still awake were Solas and Paeriel, who had moved off for some privacy in the early dawn hours.

Months later, even despite the forced choice of his people, The Iron Bull stood resolute in his new purpose, his new family. Armashok had managed to bolster Krem and the other mercenaries with the aid of the rest of their inner circle-thus securing the alliance with the Qunari and saving the Chargers, but it took some quiet affirmations after for Armashok to fully realize the effect his words had left on his companion.

He was surprised once again, years later, when The Iron Bull-Hisraad no longer-stoof firm against the Dalatrass' orders. He was loyal to his family of Chargers and lovers in Dorian and Pyrmar. He had found his new purpose; A Qunari at heart despite the brand of Tal-Vashoth.

Armashok Adaar could only smile as he embraced his brother-in-arms before they parted for Tevinter.

[bigfan-fanfic]

Inquisitor Fact Share - Emm

Tagging @ironbullsmissingeye who I got this from.

Emmeryn Lavellan, Medea Lavellan, Ezraen Trevelyan, Owain Trevelyan

A pictures or description of your Inquisitor(hair colour, eye colour, skin tone, scars ect):

Emmeryn has long white-blond hair that she keeps in a braid down her back, although there always seem to be one or two unruly strands over her icy blue eyes. She’s built a little more solidly than most elves, but is still far more willowy than a human. She’s also unusually tall, about Solas’s height. She has pale yet freckled skin, and a large ugly scar on her left arm from being bitten by a wolf. She has the simple vallaslin of Andruil tattooed on her face.

Any info about your Inquisitor(age, gender, sexuality, religion ect):

Emmeryn is about twenty-seven. She’s completely heterosexual, although she can admit when another female has a pleasing form. Emm has a religious viewpoint similar to Ameridan’s, that there is room for the endless fields of the Beyond around the Golden City. Clan Lavellan was abnormal among Dalish for having human members (refugees and the like), and Emm had no idea that this was abnormal until encountering other elves.

What race is your Inquisitor?:

Emmeryn is a Dalish elf, although many Dalish would call her “flat-ear.” Clan Lavellan refered to themselves as Fen’elvhen, the “Wolf’s People,” so named because all were welcome in their pack. Emm was displeased to learn that after the Exalted Council, Clan Lavellan vanished, likely providing the Dread Wolf with a valuable ally.

1 cute fact about your Inquisitor:

Emmeryn and Cullen’s wedding was not a grand affair, nor a secret one held between debates of the Exalted Council. The two were wed in South Reach, at the Rutherford family home. Divine Victoria was in attendance, as were most of the Inner Circle, but this was no state event, merely friends and family gathering to celebrate.

A picture or description of your Inquisitor’s favourite location:

Emmeryn’s favorite location is the lake where Cullen gave her his lucky coin. Every so often she thinks about it and smiles.

Who your Inquisitor romanced/would like to romance(can be a picture or description):

The strapping Commander of the Inquisition caught Emmeryn’s eye from the beginning, and her attraction only deepened when learning how passionate and forthright he was.

Something creative of your Inquisitor(Fic, Art, picture, or another fact):

Emmeryn has an uncommonly good singing voice. This goes unknown by anyone in the Inquisition until she sings a lullaby for Cullen when he gets a nightmare. He doesn’t ask, but she sings for him often, sometimes joining in. It helps to keep thoughts of lyrium away. Varric hears them singing together once and it immediately goes down in his notes.

Info about your Inquisitor’s childhood(was it happy/sad?):

Emmeryn’s childhood was more or less idyllic. Clan Lavellan had a semi-permanent settlement near Wycome, with farms and houses, while other members would hunt and bring food. The houses are a mixture of classic Free Marches thatch hut and Dalish aravel. Due to the mix of humans and elves (and one Qunari) living there, Emmeryn grew up never learning the insults “ox-man,” “quickling,” “shem,” “knife-ear,” or “rabbit.” In a way, the first real loss of innocence in her life was hearing these slurs from a traveler.

1 random fact about your Inquisitor:

Despite not being Fereldan, Emmeryn has a great love for dogs. As a huntress for Clan Lavellan, she always had two hunting dogs with her. After she becomes Inquisitor, Josephine presents her with a gift from a Free Marches noble - two hunting hounds (not Mabari, but still wickedly smart and well-trained). She names them Fen’falon and Eogan, after two elf-blooded boys from her village who her mother always looked after when their mother died.

Your Inquisitors usual companions:

Emmeryn: Sera, Blackwall, and Dorian

Are they a rogue, mage or warrior? What’s their class?:

Emmeryn is a rogue who generally uses the bow. She trains as an Artificer.

Who did your Inquisitor chose to rule Orlais?:

Among Celene, Briala, and Gaspard, Emmeryn chose Gaspard to rule, not only because he seemed the most straightforward, but because he seemed the easiest to control. And perhaps she was on to something, because even after leaving the Inquisition, Gaspard invites Emm and Cullen to a wyvern-hunting trip and ball each year. Orlais turns up their noses at the Emperor’s cordial friendship with a “rabbit,” but secretly feels relieved that Gaspard has such a level-headed adviser.

Who did the leave in the Fade and why?

Emmeryn almost couldn’t bear to choose, but ultimately left Hawke in the Fade. The Champion’s time was over. The Grey Wardens were needed now. 

Favourite advisor?:

Cullen, obviously. No, really. Emmeryn appreciates Cullen’s direct manner, but is thankful that cooler heads prevailed during interactions with Clan Lavellan.

1 happy fact about your Inquisitor?:

Emmeryn loves children. She’ll pause on the way from the Skyhold gate to the War Room, still in full armor, just to help a lost little boy find his mother, or talk to a little girl who wanted the Herald of Andraste to have a flower she found.

Did they save The Chargers?:

Emmeryn didn’t need to. The Iron Bull never got close enough to her for the Ben-Hassrath to doubt his loyalty. 

Did they chose the Mages or Templars?:

Emmeryn chose the Templars. The mages indentured themselves to Tevinter, but no one was protecting the Templars from whatever was wrong with the Lord Seeker.

Did the disband the Inquisition or not?:

Emmeryn disbanded the Inquisition. It was devastating to lose her hand, as she could no longer use her favored weapons, and she no longer felt the need to influence events as much. By the time the Exalted Council rolled around, Emm was only still Inquisitor because the people would not have allowed her to step down.

1 sad fact about your Inquisitor?:

Emmeryn has an acute fear of wolves after being pursued by a pack of them on a disastrous hunting trip. Even seeing Solas’ wolf-jaw necklace is enough to make her a little nervous if she focuses on it. However, her recurring nightmares have abated since she and Cullen began sleeping in the same bed.

Opinion of the Qun?:

Hates it. The only Qunari of Clan Lavellan was a Saarebas, and she knows what they do to mages. It prevents the Iron Bull from getting close to Emmeryn, and she would’ve refused an alliance anyway.

Opinion of the Dalish?:

Emmeryn thought she was a Dalish until Clan Lavellan was assaulted by a traditionalist clan seeking to wipe them out. Ever since, Emm has been wary of Dalish clans.

Opinion of The Chantry?:

She doesn’t see why it’s so human-centric. Emmeryn knows just about as much of the Chant as she does stories of the Evanuris, treating them all as fairy stories. Like many things, Emm doesn’t realize until later in life how unconventional her viewpoints are.

1 headcanon for your Inquisitor:

Emmeryn is a master at chess, and often trounces Cullen when they make a wager (usually something along the lines of if she wins, he has to go to sleep).

[rosella-writes]

👀!

hi hi thank youuuuu 💚

I began a fic about Solas saving a little saarebas girl from his own Agents a year or so ago, and it remains unfinished. Here’s a bit I wrote tonight before midnight to try and finish a chapter (that was interrupted by a spontaneous viewing of Glass Onion). Solas named her Panasaam, since under the Qun the saarebas have no names.

Panasaam was awoken the morning Solas left again by Eris whispering loudly in the next room.

“There is more at stake than the Inquisitor’s life and you know it.”

Panasaam did not shift — she held very still under her blankets, her legs curled up on her too-short bed. In the Refuge, there were not many places to stow away and remain unheard, and this corner of the fortress was as close as Solas and Eris could get to privacy without casting a spell of silence. Panasaam lay on the bottom of a pair of bunks, given her own space by virtue only of a curtain over the door. Veilfire flickered beyond, and figures moved back and forth between what Panasaam knew was a desk and a large chest. The upper bunk, where Eris usually slept, had no small dip above Panasaam’s head. The Dalish Keeper’s voice hissed again beyond the curtain.

“Do not question me, Keeper,” Solas murmured, his voice low and foreboding. “I know you mean well, but now is not the time.”

“There is no other time!”

The shadow flickered as Solas gestured angrily. “I go to divert a war. All will continue as I say.”

[rosella-writes]

WIP Wednesday

I’m still plugging away at the followup to my little thought experiment, Basvaarad — the one where Solas saves a Saarebas. So here’s some more Turin eating frilly cakes and talking a little with Eris, the Keeper-turned-Nanny.

Turin took another bite. Past the sweetness was softness, something that tasted tart and then warm, like fruit or sunlight. It reminded her of juice on a hot day. The sugary coating on the cake was thick on her tongue.

“They’re lemon-flavored,” Eris informed her, finishing off her cake with gusto. “My favorite. Sometimes Lunette gets too creative with her flavors, like putting deep mushroom and chocolate together. Blegh.”

Turin finished the little thing with a final bite, wondering that something could taste so delicious. “Thank you, Eris,” she mumbled.

The woman beamed. “You’re welcome! Now, let’s get you back inside. Time to practice a little before he comes home.”

Turin perked up. “Solas is coming back?”

“He should be! He told me he would, anyway. We’ll let him rest for a little while and then we’ll say hello.”

She followed Eris back inside the keep, ducking through doorways and turning sideways when the passages became too narrow for her shoulders. She felt both excited and nervous at the prospect of Solas returning — she’d seen him so little in the weeks she’d been here, but every time had been like a shining moment in her mind. Despite everything he worried about, everything he had yet to explain, he still found the time to sit with her and talk.

As far as she could tell, she hadn’t been possessed yet, and she hadn’t blown anything up. She hoped he’d be proud.

“Tell me,” Eris said, interrupting her train of thought, “do they have birthdays under the Qun?”

Turin frowned. “Why? It’s a day.”

Eris scoffed. “To celebrate being alive, of course! Here we celebrate a little with a meal and cake, sometimes even gifts if there’s time. When is your birthday?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

Turin shrugged, then followed Eris through the last doorway into the training yard. “Arvaarad made me forget. I think I… I think it was summertime.”

Eris looked back over her shoulder — her grey braid frayed and glowed in the sun — and regarded her with something soft and pitying in her eyes. Turin wished she’d stop. “And how old are you, da’len?”

Turin thought about it. “One of my earliest memories is hearing about the Blight in Ferelden. The tamassrans were worried. The Beresaad had been sent to investigate. I remember the sound of their boots on the quay when they boarded the boats. Tama made me look away and eat my supper.”

Eris’s eyebrows shot up, nearly into her hair. “Oh, you’re young, my sweet one.”

Turin nodded. “I’ve only had my magic for six years. Everything before that is fuzzy.”

Tags: @kita-lavellan | @silvanils | @musetta3 | @noire-pandora | @lorkaji-writes | @morganlefaye79 | @melisusthewee | @kittynomsdeplume | @darethshirl | @dreadfutures

[rosella-writes]

any snippet/comment on "saarebas-- no, turin" for us? o:

Yeah sure!! 🥰 It’s my followup to Basvaarad, the one where Solas saves a saarebas post-Trespasser and names her Turin. He becomes kind of this absentee adoptive dad to a big mage daughter. 🥲

Here’s a lil bit from it:

Turin perked up. “Solas is coming back?”

“He should be! He told me he would, anyway. We’ll let him rest for a little while and then we’ll say hello.”

She followed Eris back inside the keep, ducking through doorways and turning sideways when the passages became too narrow for her shoulders. She felt both excited and nervous at the prospect of Solas returning — she’d seen him so little in the weeks she’d been here, but every time had been like a shining moment in her mind. Despite everything he worried about, everything he had yet to explain, he still found the time to sit with her and talk.

As far as she could tell, she hadn’t been possessed yet, and she hadn’t blown anything up. She hoped he’d be proud.

[rosella-writes]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you @noire-pandora, @melisusthewee and @kittynomsdeplume for the tag! I'll eventually get up to snuff on this whole thing I swear, lol

I meant to work on Eunoia yesterday and today, but instead I got obsessed with my cute little saarebas OC, Turin (the beginning of her story is here). It's a little long, so I put the rest under the cut.

Tagging @emerald-amidst-gold and @dreadfutures if you'd like!

Saarebas — no, Turin, she reminded herself — picked at the fragrant vegetables on her plate. The elf across the table from her cocked her head and gestured at her food.

“Eat up, da'len,” the elf said, her wrinkled face lifting in an encouraging smile. She had those funny tattoos some of the other elves wore — hers were dark red, faded with time, and twisted all over her face like a tree. Solas had told Turin they were called valla-something.

“Come now,” the woman continued, still smiling. “Or I’ll have to tell him. You know how he worries.”

Turin frowned. “I wish he wouldn’t.”

The woman — Eris, Turin remembered — chuckled. “As do we all! The man is made of worries, even if he lets few of us see them.”

Turin continued to pick at her food, then finally raised the fork to her mouth and winced at the strong, garlicky taste. She wasn’t used to solid food yet. Arvaarad had kept her lips sewn tight, and the bindings only allowed for mushy foods like porridge and broth to pass through them. These leaves and things? She had to chew them.

“There you are,” Eris murmured. “I know, you’re not used to it. But it gets better. Wait until you try the little cakes Lunette makes.”

Turin cocked her head, then jumped slightly when her horn bumped the low chandelier over the table. Her horns had grown in the last few weeks, since she now had access to proper food and they were no longer being trimmed back and capped. She had to remember to move her head carefully in these little rooms the elves built.

“Lunette?” she asked. “That doesn’t sound…”

“Elfy?” Eris said with a sharp laugh. “No, she’s Orlesian. From that horrible little alienage in Halamshiral. She’s got plenty of stories about how terrible that empress and her little assassin-maid are. Not sure how many of them are true, but I don’t care, so long as she keeps making those sweet frilly things now and again.”

Turin took another bite. “Cakes. Frilly things. What are these?”

Eris looked surprised, but she quickly schooled her expression behind a calm, fond smile. She reminded Turin dimly of her tamassran — or, rather, what she could remember, before she got her magic and Arvaarad had taken her away.

“If you finish your dinner,” Eris said sweetly, “then I’ll show you.”

Lunette’s accent was strange. Turin thought it sounded like she had a little bird warbling in her throat when she spoke — and she spoke a lot. She fluttered around the kitchen, directing other elves with imperious distaste, and pointedly did not look at Turin at all. She wondered if she was just standing too still for Lunette to notice her.

“Lunette,” Eris cooed. “Do you have any —”

“Non!” the elf huffed, irritated. “I am saving them! Curse you and your sweet tooth, madame. You and him both rid my kitchen of sugar.”

Eris raised her hands and dropped them plaintively, paired with a dramatic sigh. “But the little one has never had a sweet in her life. Let her try, please?”

Lunette stopped in her tracks. She had a bit of flour streaked on her cheek, and her dark hair fell in her wide eyes as she glanced up — almost fearfully — at the giant in the room. Turin shuffled her feet, trying her best to appear, as Eris put it, small.

The little cook shook her head, cursing in her funny language under her breath, then disappeared into a cupboard. She emerged, sourfaced, with a pair of little white things in her hands, sitting pretty on a napkin. She placed them in Eris’s outstretched palm.

“Take them outside,” Lunette snapped, “before one of the boys sees them and comes hunting for the rest.”

Eris smiled fondly. “Ma serannas, da’len,” she hummed.

Lunette just scoffed, then shooed them out of her bustling kitchen. Turin bumped her horns on the doorframe on her way out — she reminded herself to try ducking in sideways next time.

She hurried after Eris — how was such an old woman so fast? — and finally settled in with her on the battlements of the keep after what felt like miles of hallways and stairs. The air was cold there, and the wind was strong. She smoothed her scarf down before it hit her in the face.

“Here,” Eris said, placing one of the white things in Turin’s hand. “Sit.”

She did, beside Eris on the stone stairs that led down the inside of the great wall. Her height let her peek over the top of the wall, however, out over a vast, green expanse of world. It looked like this keep sat at the center of a great valley, ringed by mountains she’d never seen on any map. She wondered, not for the first time, where Solas had taken her.

“Try it!” Eris reminded her.

Turin regarded the soft little treat in her palm. “You said they were… frilly?”

Eris snorted. “That’s what he calls them. Some joke from an old friend. He never would explain it — and he always looks so sad when I ask — so I left it alone. The moniker stuck, though, and Lunette has given up trying to get people to call them petit fours.”

Turin frowned. “Pettee furs?”

Eris smiled, then took a big bite of her treat. “Don’t bother, da’len,” she mumbled, crumbs falling from her wrinkled lips.

Turin regarded her treat again — a cake, she reminded herself — then took an experimental nibble. Sweetness burst across her tongue, almost too sweet, and she loosed a surprised little grunt.

Eris laughed. “Good, hmm?”

Turin took another bite. Past the sweetness was softness, something that tasted tart and then warm, like fruit or sunlight. It reminded her of juice on a hot day. The sugary coating on the cake was thick on her tongue.

“They’re lemon-flavored,” Eris informed her, finishing off her cake with gusto. “My favorite. Sometimes Lunette gets too creative with her flavors, like putting deep mushroom and chocolate together. Blegh.”

[rosella-writes]

last line monday

Thank you for the tag, @melisusthewee and @roguelioness! I've been writing a lot of stuff for challenges that I can't share yet, so here's an older published piece I've got that might turn into a multi-chapter dealio.

“You are Turin,” he said with finality. “And I am Solas, if there are to be introductions.”

Aaaand how about @dreadfutures, @emerald-amidst-gold, and @kittynomsdeplume? As always, no pressure.