#with fenris alive and well

[the-phony-king-of-england]

Jumping in to let y'all know that I still draw-

They're discussing matters of GREAT importance

[americankimchi]

hm. realizing that my dragon age OCs have progressively more and more tragic tales

[the-cryptographer]

Fenris's anger towards Danarius in act 1 is so deceptive. Not that it doesn't exist - it definitely exists, is very real and all-consuming. And Fenris definitely creates a very logically sound argument for why it exists and why Danarius deserves to die and why it would be incredibly insulting to just pay Danarius for his own freedom - ie. the institution of slavery is evil! after everything he's taken from me, why does he also deserve my money?! (Absolutely a fair point. But nevermind that Fenris knows perfectly well that Danarius is already extremely wealthy, and already expending a far greater amount of money having him tracked and hunted and brought back alive than Fenris could ever hope to match.) And I think it all distracts from the fact that Fenris is just not a very ideological person and isn't actually motivated by ideological ideals. Which is what makes him a sensible and reasonable and pragmatic person (unlike Anders who is 100% fuelled by outrage against injustice in the face of every practical impossibility to his plans, and is thus insane (i say this affectionately, please keep your Anders hate/salt off my post)).

There's just a very practical reason that Fenris is so angry in Act 1 and I think it's that his anger is one of a very few things that's keeping him from going back to his abuser. Like, Danarius has gone out of his way to make as sure as possible that Fenris's time as a man free is as miserable and uncomfortable as being his slave, if not more. When you meet Fenris, he's being chased across the filthy backwaters of Southern Thedas by bounty hunters, hounded and paranoid and unsafe at every turn, without access to adequate food or housing or medical care, incredibly lonely and entirely without allies (and who would want to ally with him, when it comes with the strife of becoming a target of those bounty hunters too??). He is living a miserable grimy existence, and he knows that the easiest way to make it stop is to give in. To go back to Danarius - let Danarius be the solution to the problem that Danarius created in the first place, entirely with the intention of bringing Fenris back under his control. And the only thing stopping Fenris from doing that is him reminding himself at every inconvinient moment that he's furious with Danarius and the guy made his life hell and deserves to die miserably. And you think so too, right, Hawke?! Tell him you think so too!

So that anger is important, but the things that Fenris said in it also can't really be taken as a literal understanding of his thought process or his actual desires imho. It's just pretty obvious by the time you reach acts 2 and 3, when Fenris has far more in the way of resources and allies and security, that all his conviction and outrage in act 1 about how he'd go and hunt down Danarius and kill the man himself was an extremely empty bit of hot air. His grand plan for dealing with Danarius in act 3 is 'hope that guy has moved on and forgotten about me so I can meet my sister in peace'. Frankly, he doesn't want to kill Danarius - doesn't want to have to. Much in the same way he didn't want to have to kill Hadriana. He doesn't give a shit about revenge or whether or not they deserve it for their magical crimes. It's just that none of these fuckers will leave him the fuck alone to move on with his life.

[darkmodechaoticlight]

Avivos being good dads: 2?

I had some more floating hc's while writing for yesterdays post as well as some backstory for Evie, so here is more info (Also here is a rough sketch of baby and dad:

-Fen is very cautious, even if Bael looked like Beel, Fen could tell the poor devil isn't his father. Which breaks Bael's heart since he adores Fen. Bael can't even hold Fen if hes not being bottle fed, since the food is distracting him. Though nap time is best time for them -For the first time after Fen was born Beel left his vicinity, Evie had a heart attack since the baby literally teleported to his father. Beel was in a tavern when a infant still swaddled appeared on the bar counter. Everyone was stunned at the childs appearance. Beel sobered up enough to take his baby back to the palace. Evie was not amused but was happy to have Fen back. -Fen is a HUNGRY BOI! Once he starts eating solids nothing is off the table. He is a child fueled by food and spite. Beel is banned from trying to make something for Fen since the last time toddler Fen was found eating an alive squid that Beel was too slow to grab. -Stolas loves meeting the baby in the form of a Crow. hes like a little guard for the Prince. Something that confuses the devil is that he always finds little round Fantails when he is on guard. These birds weren't native to Hell, though Stolas thinks he knows what Goddess they belong too. -Naberius may or may not be turning into a three headed puppy and playing with the Prince when he is able to walk around. He takes doggy naps with Fen. Naberius loves Fen since he is named Fenris, another three headed dog. -Fen REALLY loves seeing uncle Amon. And Amon on his part really enjoys looking after Fen, even through being covered in puke or really bad poops. Amon takes him on daily walks, giving Evie a bit of a break from the Prince.

[vigilskeep]

why the kirkwall chantry is dedicated to hessarian, and why that gives us more than just a cooler name for it with a sexy accusatory nickname for anders in there somewhere: an illustrated guide!

(wait, wait, please remind me who hessarian even is, i hear you ask. hessarian was the tevinter archon who ordered andraste’s execution on the pyre. but struck with guilt at the last minute, he mercifully (i GUESS) killed andraste with a sword rather than let her suffer in the fire. he converted to andrastianism a decade later and took the rest of the imperium with him. he’s really popular in tevinter because, you know, he kind of improves their whole role in the story, and the chantry there likes to think he’s the most important disciple. you may recognise him from being one of the spirits in the urn of sacred ashes gauntlet, from the lore behind the blade of mercy gift for fenris, and the ‘blades of hessarian’ group on the storm coast in inquisition.)

okay, let’s first get the basics down: why do i think the kirkwall chantry is dedicated to hessarian? merrill, our glamorous tour guide to andrastian nonsense, is going to show us why

here’s merrill examing the architecture of the kirkwall chantry. and it’s covered in this guy!

how do we know this guy is hessarian? let’s compare it to some other, canonical andrastion depictions of the latecomer disciple. hessarian is typically depicted with some type of crown or headwear to demonstrate his status in tevinter, robes to denote him as a mage, a long beard probably also symbolic of tevinter culture at the time, and, of course, his blade of mercy. we can see all of these on the figure repeatedly shown in and outside the kirkwall chantry, as well as a certain similarity in the face to the other depictions.

here’s another variant of how the kirkwall chantry depicts the blade of mercy! these are Everywhere, including right over the doors.

and here’s more variants of the same figure inside. he’s carrying some kind of incense burner instead of a sword here, but it’s clearly the same face with the same crown and that classic hessarian beard. note his position of power flanking the enormous andraste figure.

so... why does that matter? isn’t it just a repeated asset?

no, it’s CRAZY actually. and here’s a couple reasons why!

(fascinated by genitivi’s word choice of glitzy mansions, btw.)

firstly, the kirkwall chantry’s dedication to hessarian’s figure is one of the biggest markers that it, along with the gallows and the darkspawn, is a legacy of tevinter. as i said, he’s the favourite there. kirkwall was once emerius under tevinter’s rule, and from the moment we see the weeping twins that welcome you into the city, we’re supposed to remember that the city of chains has not changed all that much. just as emerius’ prisons now incarcerate mages, its industry is now powered by refugees, and the worst parts of its lowtown hold elves probably just as they once did, its magisters’ estates continue to hold the most powerful voices in the city: in this case, that of the chantry and grand cleric elthina. the hessarian statues that demonstrate the chantry’s wealth and power are inarguably either tevinter made or at least made in their style, with such similarity to the statues of slaves that terrorise the gallows courtyard. hightown is no more free of that inheritance than the circle.

secondly, the focus on hessarian can’t be an accident in dragon age 2, a game obsessed with the mercy kill. “without an end, there can be no peace,” says flemeth. somebody has to kill wesley rather than watch him turn into a ghoul. anders has to kill karl. hawke possibly has to kill their other sibling if they catch the taint in the deep roads. varric can kill bartrand when he goes insane. killing the serial killer of elven children rather than letting his madness continue is one of the most universally approved decisions in the game. in her last words, leandra thanks you for ending the mage keeping her alive with twisted necromancy, even if, and especially because, it means the end of her suffering in death. merrill has to kill a possessed keeper marethari. many more can be killed for being “too dangerous” to live, like the blood mage idunna. orsino is slain by hawke after transforming into a monster he would never have wanted to be. there’s probably a dozen more examples i can think of. and of course, in one of the most game-defining decisions hawke has to make, there’s the option to kill anders after the destruction of the kirkwall chantry. merciful is not the word i would use for that, but it has certainly been framed that way. i suppose that’s the same as what i think of hessarian’s actions, isn’t it? (we’re focusing on the andrastian relevance here and not the godawful treatment of mentally ill people in this game, btw, although. yikes.)

“don’t compare yourself to andraste,” says sebastian to anders. he could try telling the game that. hawke gets cast into a lot of roles, but when anders believes they will kill him, he’s casting himself as the martyred andraste, dying to burn rebellion into the face of thedas, and hawke as his hessarian, quick with the merciful blade. i suppose it’s fitting that the kirkwall chantry should be consecrated in the image of its champion. and that the chantry covered in that image gets destroyed moments before hawke makes their choice, if they decide to make a different one. it’s also worth mentioning that meredith is a mimic of andraste, too, with her stolen crown, making anders and meredith obvious combatants for andraste’s legacy in the game. hawke doesn’t get much command of the narrative, but maybe they can at least dodge being anders’ hessarian, if they choose.

idk i think it’s really fucking cool and we should talk about it more, basically! there’s a lot of other angles to take. hessarian is such a fun lore figure to explore. for example, i didn’t even get into the prominence of an andrastian mage figure here, or that the blade of mercy is the symbol of the templar order and was invoked even earlier, in dao, as the “blade of mercy” by traumatised mages who desperately sought to be purified by the templars’ judgement.

also, i think ‘the chantry of hessarian’s mercy’ sounds good. maybe ‘the chantry of our lady’s spilled blood’? that could be sexy. whatever. i’m workshopping it

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

So I saw that you take request with Fenrys. I had this idea on my mind to long time. I just wanted to tell you about it. I was thinking of something like something angst but not too much with a fluffy end. Like Fen has a nightmare and when he wakes up the reader isn't in the bedroom (maybe bringing some water of going for some air) and he has a panic attack and then the reader came and remind him that she is with him and fluff fluff and fluff.

Thank you for reading it, I don't know exactly to describe how I imagine and it's just an idea you don't have to write something if you don't think it's good or it's not your type of writing

Okay... why was this so fun??

Nightmares

Warm mid-summer wind danced in your bedroom chasing the heat of the day away. The light music from the village twirled through the space as well. Calming, almost like a lullaby but it did nothing to pull you under. You looked to your left carefully. Fenrys's golden moon hair messily fell all over. Some strands covered his eyes. You bit your lip trying to suppress a giggle as you carefully pushed it to the side. Looking at him like this you wouldn't be able to guess that this was a wild side cheeky warrior laying here.

His arm lazily draped onto your middle, over the silk nightgown covering your body. Palm gripping your hip tenderly. This was how Fenrys usually slept. This or in any other way that involved being close to you, touching you in some way. A head on your chest or in the crook of your neck, tangled in your arms or pushing you closer into his chest. Nuzzled into your stomach, arms wrapping around your middle snoring lightly.

Maeve had left Fenrys broken. She had left both of you broken. Used and abused. Silently clinging to your mating bond for that small drop of desire to pull through. To fight. To come out of it alive.

Even with her gone the shadow of her lingered and no matter what you did her piercing eyes still found you at times. That's when you would cling to Fenrys. Letting your heart beat in the same pattern that his heart did. Together. Here together in the court that thrived on love, not torture. So you never declined Fenrys's need for physical touch. Touch that didn't desire to hurt. A touch that carried love and care. Hence while even in this heat you didn't dare to push him away because he needed you. Needed to smell you and feel your heartbeat. Needed to know that he was in the bed with you. That it was you running your fingers up and down his arm.

You turned your gaze out to the little balcony. The moonlight seeping into the room looked so inviting. Only now did you realize how long it had been since you just stood outside looking up at the stars or silently talking to the moon. The moon that was always there. The moon who had kept you and Fenrys together even through the years of separation. One look up and you were together.

Carefully you reached for your lover's hand. You knew that getting out of bed without waking Fenrys up was close to impossible. He could sleep through Aedion singing right by his ear but the moment you so much as shifted his eyes would snap open. Yet you tried anyway, the desire to bathe in the moonlight called you. You carefully slipped from beneath his arm, pushing the pillow into your place. Stopping to run your fingers over his forehead and arms to make sure that he would indeed stay asleep until you returned.

What you didn't know was that the reason why Fenrys stayed asleep was that a dream that was unfolding in his subconscious was keeping the fea worrier in the chokehold. The horrors he had endured. All of you had. Played on in his mind. The horrors didn't pledge his sleep often now. Not since you two had returned to one another. But if the absence of you was detected by even the smallest cell in Fenrys's body all bells were ringing, dragging the demons from down under.

Fenrys jolted upwards. Gulping down air as if he had been pushed underwater. Cold sweat dripped down his back. His hands were clammy and oddly cold. As if carrying the essence of your lifestyle, blood drained body that he just held, pressed into his chest. Fenrys quickly rubbed his palms onto the sheets, wanting nothing more but to chase the sickening feeling away.

But the uneasy feeling didn't ease. Fenrys turned to his side quickly. He needed you. He needed to get close to you. Ask you to hold him. No, firstly he needed to listen to your heart beating. But Fenrys's heart stopped for a beat when his eyes landed on the empty space next to him. He ran his hand over the cold sheets. Cold. Meaning you have been gone for some time. His eyes darted all over the room. Nothing. No sight of you. He tried to take in the smells inside the bedroom. But there was nothing. Only the mixed smells from the town were carried by the wind.

The fea male rushed to get out of bed. Tripping over the sheets, knees hitting the cold wood. "Y/N", your name fell from Fenrys's lips. Choked out and broken. Yet he still called. Still searched. Hands claw at his throat when the tightness only grew. No, no, no. He couldn't have missed it. He couldn't. Not you. Not now. Not ever. He wouldn't live. He wouldn't live without you. There was no point. Bracing himself on the bed Fenrys tried to get up but his hands were shaking. "Y/N...", he roared out in pain, letting the hot tears slip down his cheeks.

You quickly pulled the curtains to the side once the familiar growl pierced the air. You rushed back into the room. Abandoning your place at the corner of the balcony. Forgetting the moon and the delicate wind in your hair. Your heart broke into million pieces as your eyes landed on the white wolf. Fur standing up, and he pressed his body into the wall. Claw scratches mark the floor. Big, terrified eyes darting all over the place.

No one in their right mind would step closer to the creature in such distress yet you did. This was your Fenrys. Your mate. Mortified because he woke up alone. Scared because this was his worst nightmare. To lose you. To have you taken away from him. "Fenrys, baby...", you approached him slowly. Palms turned to him so he would know that you meant no harm, "Darling, I'm here. I'm right here with you". Your voice pierced through the night like soft velvet.

Fenrys's white ears twitched, turning towards your voice. "It was just a bad dream, my love", you stepped even closer. Pushing your palm closer to his snout letting him sniff you. "I was just outside looking at the moon. You know how we do when we sit outside forgetting the time", your fingers reached to scratch behind his ears. Stepping right in front of him, pressing your forehead against the top of his furry head. The sound of his tail hitting the floor filled the room and you couldn't help the smile that slipped onto your face.

One heartbeat. Two. Three. Four. And soon the same hands that held you not that long ago were once again wrapped around you. You didn't waste any time as you did the same. Pressing your face into your lover's chest. "I... You... there was", Fenrys stuttered and you quickly nodded your head, "I'm sorry that I left you. But I am right here. Nothing happened, I promise".

Pushing away from Fenrys's chest you looked up at your lover. His heart was beating way slower now. Yet you could tell that the images he saw still lingered. You leaned in to press a kiss onto his chest, right where his heart was beating. Kiss after kiss to let him know that you were here with him.

After a while, Fenrys leaned in to press a kiss into your hair as a deep sigh left his lips. "Are you a bit better now?", you asked softly, running your fingers up and down his back. Fenrys nodded, "Just... It felt so real. I held you and you were...dead", his grip on you tightened. Brows frowning slightly. "But I'm alive, look at me", cupping his face once more you pulled Fenrys closer, "I'm yours and forever will be. No one will ever be able to separate us again", the last words were a whisper yet Fenrys still nodded. Breathing in the smell of you and grounding himself even more, "No one will keep us apart", he also stated firmly, pressing his forehead against yours.

[shiyorin]

Animal instincts

#Just romcom in 40K

#Today's menu: Leman Russ and Lion El'Jonson

#Primarchs x Reader, Reader is Imperial Agent

#Late Christmas gift and early New Year gift

Leman Russ

The endless snows of Fenris stretched as far as the eye could see, blanketing mountains and wilds alike under pristine powder. You found yourself overwhelmed at the awe-inspiring landscape, so different from your world upbringing. 

But greatest curiosity lay with one who called these frigid wastes home - Leman Russ, Primarch of the Space Wolves. You observed him now, surrounded by his warriors yet apart, a lone towering figure contemplating the white void. 

His austere features seemed carved from the very stone and ice encasing this planet, immovable yet holding untold depth and power beneath granite exterior. Thick fur-lined armor and coarse pelt draped his massive frame, like the predators ruling these inhospitable wastes.

But as Russ turned toward some comment, face transforming with gruff laughter at his pack's roughhousing, you saw not an impervious demigod but something familiar. Great shoulders shook in mirth like immense boulders slipping loose, blue eyes alive with warmth despite frigid surroundings. An involuntary thought slipped through, that in this moment, he resembled not conqueror but some canines, mighty and playful. 

Shaking off fanciful musings, you continued observant tasks, keeping distance respectful between yourself and the lords of this domain. But later as briefings commenced, Russ stopped his gigantic form before you, breath curling like frost wolves from a mouth curled in question. 

You blinked up into eyes keen yet gentle, all rational thought scattering like snow on gale winds. Impulse surged before discipline could rein it, and you found hands rising of their own accord to Russ' massive brow, carding gloved fingers through coarse hair as one might a trusted hound. 

Silence descended, thick as the powdery drifts. Russ' features slackened in blank shock, pale eyes blinking owlishly. "Lass..." he rumbled, uncomprehending. 

You started as if slapped, jerking hands back so swiftly your wrist protested. "My lord, I..." Words fled, face aflame to your hairline. What folly had possessed you so?!

Yet to your surprise, Russ laughed, a booming, resonant sound like glaciers calving. "By Fenris's ball, lass, yer got the spirit!" 

His tone held no anger, merely bemusement. But when you swallowed apologies, you glimpsed what may have been wistfulness flickering through feral eyes, gone as swift as the thought that spawned it. Had his invisible tail genuinely twitched to wag? Definitely you are crazy or something.

"Aye, lass. Well, if the fur satisfies yer hands, s'pose I'll oblige." 

To your shock, he leaned nearer once more, an unmistakable invitation dancing in blue eyes. Hypnotized, you carded soft locks obediently, finding they are softer than you think. Russ sighed, almost seeming to lean into your touch. An absurd image flickered of an immense wolf nuzzling against your hand, tail wagging invisible yet content. Smiling softly, you traced strong jaw and was rewarded with a look of such warmth and longing, all of your rational thought dissolved. 

Lion El'Jonson

Your survey of the growing threat in Caliban's wilds brought you regularly to the Lion's tower, poring over maps and missives seeking the root of corruption's spread. This eve found you and him yet at work as dusk deepened, twin flames bending over parchment and discourse. 

A lull arose as analysis hit dead ends once more, frustration mounting. You sighed and stretched tired limbs, risking a sidelong glance at your lord. The Lion remained absorbed, strong brows furrowed, stroking his trim beard absently as strategic mind raced. 

A strange thought struck then, in this dim shuttered space, with dusk masking Caliban's savage beauty, did he not seem every inch a great cat himself? Powerful yet graceful, thinking moves ahead with predatory cunning, alone yet bound to wilder instincts doubtless few witnessed.   

Before rational thought could intervene, curiosity overruled. Stepping softly, your hands found scratching points along Lion's bearded jaw and throat. Beneath your ministries his eyes slid shut, muscles unwinding with a contented sigh. Success! Like any feline such attentions soothed.

Encouraged, your nails lightly raked his scalp, eliciting a startling response, a primal rumbling purr trembled his massive frame. His relaxation vanished in an instant, eyes flying open to stare at your in wild-eyed alarm. 

You stumbled back several paces, own eyes round as moons. Had Lion just...purred? Like some overgrown house tabby? Your mind reeled, seeking logical explanations amongst unfathomable strangeness unfolding. 

Lion's pupils elongated before your gaze, resembling nought cat-like slits in green eyes gone feral-bright. His confusion melted into predatory stillness, fixing you with an eerie stare that raised all hairs standing on end. What strangeness possessed them?

For long moments you and him remained suspended, breathing halted, shock and unnamed sparks passing between hands dropped limp to sides once more. Then all broke at once, your stammered excuses and the Lion retreating to the shadows of his tower, retreating from… what?

That night, your sleep proved fitful, your mind restless with possibilities. Had you gone too far when crossed a line with Lion that afternoon, awakening forces better left slumbering? 

Morning comes, dread coiled cold and heavy in your gut. Open the tower's door with trepidation, you froze at the grisly sight awaiting just beyond threshold. A massive deer carcass lay splayed, crimson pool already attracting swarms of flies. 

Your breath caught in horror, had Lion's frustrations boiled over in vengeance? Was this brutal warning of what further torments awaited should your act overstep once more? Shaking, you backed hurriedly inside, thoughts whirling. 

Meanwhile across Caliban's wilderness, Lion admired graceful flickers weaving between ancient trees, oblivious to turmoil sown. Inhaling your lingering scent lost to the mists. Pride swelled that his token gained your notice, for what better way to proclaim your worth and pique your interest further? 

He would await your next visit, gifting further demonstrations of prowess to stoke your regard. In time, you would see none matched his prowess for providing and protecting what he deemed most worthy.

Extra:

Russ: Pat me, pat me, woof woof!

Lion: If I give a bigger prey, will the agent love me more?

[saphirered]

Caged Birds Don't Sing

As promised Part 2 of this Fenrys x reader request! We're getting more angst but what do you expect from enemies to lovers? Hope you like it! 😘

You stood at her side. You stood at Maeve’s damned side on that beach. Of course she would have you stand there. You would look down upon them. Fenrys expected indifference if not betrayal for their disobedience, or perhaps satisfaction that they’d be punished for their actions. He expected you to laugh at Gavriel’s pain, to speak to them, tear at open wounds but you were silent. You made no move. He deigned to look at you, if only to assure you wouldn’t pounce at the first opportunity. He would have been ready to rip your throat out. He might not have thought  twice about it had Maeve severed his bond too but she knew his greatest torment would be to keep it in place. It’s in that image he notices your throat, how it’s tense and how you swallow, how your breathing is higher than it should be. He notices something behind that eternal gaze into oblivion and he realises, you are not the fae he holds in his memory. You are in pain. You’re in turmoil and you’re fighting so desperately to keep in place whatever facade you’ve put on.

You’ve never looked away from the abuse Maeve put them through but this time, you turn your gaze and bite the inside of your cheek. You clasp your hands together to keep the trembles from them or perhaps to stop yourself from taking reckless action. When you force yourself to look, when Aelin accepts her fate, you keep your eyes on her. Behind that surface mask so cracked and broken, one can see the pain, the guilt and regret and sense of failure. You mouth the words ‘I am sorry’ for none but them to see, for those who pay attention. The porcelain mask no longer remains in its perfect state. Everyone knows what Maeve does to broken dolls. 

————

When the screams have gone quiet and no longer echo through the halls of Doranelle Fenrys lays at the base of that damned throne. The clicking of footsteps against those damned floors are both blessing and curse. Blessing as a reminder he isn’t dreaming. A curse for who’s presence they announce. They stop not too far away. He knows exactly where you are even if he can’t bear to lift his head. 

“You summoned me, my queen?” Ever eloquently you speak but there’s a rasp to your voice he’s not heard before. It peaks enough of his interest to try and get a better look and blinking an eye open is enough to reveal the bruised marks around your neck. It’d been weeks since your altercation and you bore no marks of that. Whoever dared lay a hand on you, Maeve must want to deal with. He expected some kind of doting from the queen but found none. 

“You have served me well, my little pet. For many years I have kept you at my side. My most loyal of servants.” Maeve rises and slowly crosses the difference. She steps around Fenrys as if he’s no more than an inconvenient obstacle. “You’ve protected them for many years but finally you’ve given in. Know that it is your sacrifice that keeps them alive. For now. You’ve earned my mercy.” Maeve dances a sharp nail under your chin and lifts your head. She tuts at the marred skin as you bite back the discomfort when she lets her fingers glide against the tender bruises. 

“My allegiance has never wavered. I thank you for your benevolence.” Such carefully chosen words. When she retreats her touch you bow your head like some loyal subject. Maeve circles you but you keep your eyes front, not daring to turn and face her out of habit. 

“Your allegiance comes with a reward no less. After all these decades you’ve deserved as much.” She stops behind you and you fear the repercussions for a brief second. You see the broken and bloodied fae at the footsteps of that dais. He’s staring right at you. You cannot look away from him. At least he’s alive. At least he has allies that can help him. At least he can stay with Aelin. He might not know your involvement in all of this and he might never know, but that is your punishment for all those years you turned a blind eye to them, to him. You don’t deserve forgiveness for your actions nor do you want it. You just hope it was worth it, will be worth it. It’s then you feel something cold slip around your neck and dangle against your chest. A pendant on a chain. Your blood freezes in your veins. You freeze.

The pendant, the chain, you can still see the remnants of dried blood staining it. Murder enters your heart and it shatters. You want to scream and shout and cry but you don’t. You school your features blank and manage to hold yourself together as you hold the pendant. Maeve circles back around, back up the stairs and leisurely sits on her throne. She grasps the armrests lightly. 

“Let this be the price of your broken silence.” She promised you. She promised they’d be safe. You’d given it all. All those decades you’ve suffered through and she destroyed all you cared about. You played a dangerous game and you lost. You truly lost. You’d saved the victims of your actions but condemned the ones who lived thanks to your silence. Maeve takes great joy in watching you struggle to hold yourself together. 

“You have no idea how much this gift means to me, my most gracious queen.” Fenrys doesn’t know if it’s your injured throat or those cracks he’s noticing once more. He almost feels sorry for you, for whatever is causing this and for what Maeve clearly holds over you. You were all too selective in your words and he has not the strength to figure it out, dancing along the line of consciousness but he makes a mental note of it anyway should his mind think it important enough to pick apart.

“Take him out of my sight and clean up his mess. I want him back in shape by next morrow.” You miss a beat but with one last bow you are at Fenrys’ side. He tries to lift himself but is unable to despite his first instinct to refuse your help and protest. At least he can take some modicum of satisfaction in the knowledge he will bleed all over your pristine attire. With difficulty you support him and drag him out of the throne room. It seems that the moment those doors close behind each step is more difficult than the last. He notes that you’re not even entirely sure where you’re going, not aware of your surroundings and when he looks at your face Fenrys sees something he has never seen before; silent tears streaming down your cheeks. You can’t seem to stop them. You make no sound but still you cry. Those are the tears of someone who has only been able to express those feelings in complete solitude. Despite his feelings and opinions towards you, he finds it within himself holding some kind of remorse, of pity. 

You take him to an unfamiliar room. You don’t speak a single word. Neither does he. You follow orders; get some rags, clean his skin and take care of the injuries he sustained to speed up the healing process. Your touch is deliberate and practiced. You have the supplies at the ready. You’re no healer, he’s fairly certain an it’s then he notes the faint smell from you matching that of one of the ointments you set aside. The more you care for him, the further within your shell you retreat, as if you’re not but an animated body but your mind and soul have left. The way you move, like this is regular routine, it makes him wonder if this is habit. It must be. You’ve done this perhaps a thousand times before but likely never for another… Perhaps you have faced your own suffering at Maeve’s hand. Your loyalty was never to Maeve. It was to whomever that pendant belonged to- the sacrifice you had made and for what? Why now? Fenrys has many questions he cannot answer. 

“What did you do?” Fenrys croaks when you tie the last bandage and collect the mess to be disposed of. You freeze in your movement. You don’t look him in the eye. You don’t look at him at all. You are just curled within yourself; your shoulders slumped, and limbs heavy, your brow furrowed and still the occasional tear rolls down your cheek. 

“Why do you care?” You shoot back out of instinct. Your defences still sharp. If anything you remind Fenrys of an injured animal, lashing out at any who dare come to close. It seems you remember you’re the one that brought him into your lair. 

“I don’t but I’d rather like to know if I’ll be cleaning up your mess next time.” You know what he insinuates. He’s gathered you’ve fallen out of favour with Maeve and she has been known to get rid of those no longer of use to her in a manifold of creative ways. It’s a shame you still hold some value to her and she won’t let you go until she’s absolutely sure you have nothing left to offer her. She knows that even still, you haven’t shared all you had to share. You’ve kept the most important information to yourself for a reason and right now your heart is filled with enough hatred and recklessness to play the long game no matter the costs. Not like you have anything left to lose. 

“I sacrificed what leverage I had to spare others from bloodshed, to buy them more time.” You speak solemnly. The first words you’d said since all but dragging him out of the throne room. You truly are in pain. Though besides your bruises you seem fine and some bruising has never bothered you much before as far as Fenrys knows, the pain you feel is the world-shattering kind and he’s noted the blood on that pendant isn’t his. The way you hold onto it, it’s important to you. Out of all the jewels you adorn it is the most precious. He begins to piece it together. Those golden bracelets are chains in their own way. 

“Clearly that did fuck all.” Fenrys appears to have found his attitude again. You’re just too exhausted to face off with him. You can’t. You’re done. You’ve lost it all and for what? It was a failure in the end. You want this pain to stop, this carnage from tearing you apart from the inside but here he is claws and all tearing into you. As he deserves for all the pain you’ve caused him. 

“She would have made you kill each other. She would have made the others watch before disposing of the disobedient ones.” He understands well enough the implications of your words. His blood might as well have frozen in his veins. 

“And you can’t even speak our names- their names. Why? Why risk it all for the people you’ve been looking down upon ever since you’ve met them? Why give up your precious little life to save us? Should we forever be in your debt?” Once more his anger is directed towards you. It felt so good in the past. He simply feels horrible about it now, especially when he sees you clutch that pendant so tightly he thinks you might crush the metal with your bare hands.

“Because you don’t deserve to be a casualty to my silence.”

“We have all been casualties of your silence! What’s changed, sunshine? You grew a conscious? Get lost. You wouldn’t know right from wrong if it stared you right in the face.” He expected you to lash out against him, to seek out the confrontation but with each word he speaks you just look smaller and smaller. There’s no satisfaction. There’s no pleasure in tearing into you. Fenrys once thought that seeing you show remorse, any kind of guilt and recompense for your actions, or lack thereof would make him feel justified, make him feel validated, make him feel good. It didn’t. He just feels horrible. He feels his blood truly grow colder than the depths of winter and so his features blank. No more is there the fury. There’s only a chill silence and lack of any sensation. It’s terrifying. He catches a glimpse of himself in your mirror and sees a reflection eerily similar to the expression he’s seen you wear more often than not. Just the absence of emotion, of the attachment to this world. 

“You’re right. Fenrys. You’re right and I’m sorry.” Once upon a time he would have cheered and laughed at you admitting your wrongs, your defeat. He doesn’t feel anything now. You’re just some broken bird that can no longer sing those lovely songs. You’re just as broken as he is. 

[mrlarkstin]

Eramus Larkstin

B A S I C S

Name: Eramus Larkstin

Nicknames: None

Age: 31 (Age he became an immortal dragon at)

Nameday: 29th Sun of the 1st Astral Moon

Race: Ishgardian Elezen

Gender: Transman

Orientation: Pansexual

Profession: Warrior of Light, Culinarian, Alchemist

P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

Hair: A messy mop of dusty rose and dark red hair. The messy nature really shows just how busy he is. The feathers he braids into his hair are feathers from his lover Vrtra.

Eyes: Originally evergreen, the light poisoning turned his eyes a bright emerald, and now, thanks to joining with Azem, he has one orange eye and one green eye. Both his pupils are slit thanks to Vrtra's blood coursing through him.

Skin: Pale and covered in cream scales from Vrtra's blood that keeps him alive.

Tattoos/Scars: A red dragon in a tea cup sits on his left shoulder, a reminder of a friend who fell in the Calamity 5 years ago. He has scars all over his body, scars from his top surgery and scars from battles won and lost.

F A M I L Y

Parents: Biological mother has passed, his biological father lives in the Firmament in Ishgard. He was raised but a lovely Hyur couple called Marie and Fenris Furor. They are his entire world, he is working on his relationship with his biological father still.

Siblings: His adoptive sister Kaolin! Marie and Fenris' daughter!

Grandparents: N/A. He never met either set of his grandparents, hes not even sure if they are alive or not.

In-Laws/Others: Oh boy, lmao, he is married to both Vrtra and Estinien. So he has Alberic and all the remaining greatwyrms as well as Middie in his ear constantly lmao nothing worse then a father in law in your ear all the time!! He also has two kids as of 6.5! Harklan, his oldest son and Altan his youngest daughter!

S K I L L S

Abilities: A skilled culinarian, there is nothing he cannot make. He is also an excellent Paladin and has been blessed by Halone (Oathbreaker), Hydaelyn (Hydaelyn's Chosen) and currently by Vrtra (Vrtra's Valiant).

Hobbies: He loves to read, bake and cook, shop and travel. And nothing brings him more joy then just curling up with his family and spending the evening reading or cooking with them!

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Die hard loyal.

Most Negative Trait: Quiet, baring sins of the past alone.

L I K E S

Colours: Whites, greens, reds and golds.

Smells: Fresh cut grass, the forest after a rain fall, the ocean and a bakery.

Textures: Comfortable and soft fabrics!

O T H E R D E T A I L S

Smokes: Nope!

Drinks: Only in the bath or during a celebration.

Mount Insurance: HE IS INSURED TO THE TEETH

Been Arrested: No, but he has killed a man and gotten away with it. He will take it to his grave.

Tagged By: @sundered-souls & @lilbittymonster Thank you!! This was fun!

Tagging: @ishgardenjoyer @weedsmokingcatgirl @asteriasfallingstarsandtears @ishgardmuffin @avalon821 @bnuuywol (No pressure to do it!)

[ashleyinwondrland]

Everyone in TOG will be immortal because I say so

We already know for sure Aelin, Rowan, Manon, Fenrys and Lorcan have settled

Aedion can very likely settle, his father being Gavriel

Lysandra is a shape shifter so I’m going to say she can settle as well

Dorian has so much raw magic that he will be able to as well

Elide has witch blood and Lorcan’s life is tied to hers, so loophole will keep her alive

Someday they will find out Evangeline has magic and she will be able to settle as well, because Lysandra won’t survive having to bury her

Chaol is the only mortal and it will be horribly tragic when a still young Dorian and still young Aelin have to bury him, unless somehow Yrene’s magic healing keeps her alive and since their lives are intertwined he stays alive as well

And they can all be happy and alive forever and ever, visiting each other’s kingdoms and eating chocolate cake and being at peace

[profound-imagination]

A Whole New World - Fenrys Moonbeam

A/N: So this could potentially be the start of a new series if people want it.

In which our O/C Rory wakes up somewhere she didn't know.

W/C - 3.1k

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

What a terrible date. Awareness flared through her in boughts. She could hear people talking, they sounded panicked. "Miss? Miss can you hear me?" Her eye was pried open, a bright light shined into it and then the other. "No pupil response." Darkness again. Am I dying? She thought. How did I end up like this? It hurt to think. She couldn't move.

"She's losing a lot of blood! Miss? Can you hear me?" She tried to pry her eyes open but it was like someone had glued them shut, tried to ask the person to be quiet because her head hurt but she couldn't. "Found her purse, name is Aurora West, she's 20 and according to the lanyard in here she's a veterinary nurse." She cringed to herself, no one but her grandmother called her Aurora, she was Rory, she tried to move her mouth to tell them but nothing happened, she faded again.

The sound of a horn, a moment of panic and pain, then nothingness. It repeated over and over for she didn't know how long. Horn, panic, pain. Horn, panic, pain. Horn, panic, pain. And then she woke up and remembered nothing of the darkness or what had happened. Had she been kidnapped?

Rory had two emotions flood through her as her eyes opened. Relief that she was alive and breathing. Confusion at the fact she'd woken in the middle of a lush forest, the sun shining down on her face, the mossy ground was soft on her back and she wanted to curl into it and fall back to sleep but she needed to figure out where she was and how she'd ended up here.

She pushed herself up to her feet and realised then that she was barefoot. She was also wearing a light linen dress that looked like something from a storybook. What was happening? She owned nothing like this, if she wasn't in her scrubs she was in leggings and a big t-shirt. Nevermind that, no one wore dresses like this unless they were in some kind of play or TV show.

A branch snapped behind her and she span. She saw no immediate threat as she scanned the trees around her but she didn't know where she was or what would be considered as a threat. Were there bears in this area? Wolves and Mountain Lions? She didn't know but she pushed down her rising panic and picked a direction and started walking. She was a city girl, no one had ever taught her to follow the sun or how to identify which way was North, she couldn't identify constellations or survive in the wild so she had to find civilization quickly.

She'd been walking for hours, the sun was setting and her feet were essentially torn to ribbons as she stumbled through roots and brambles. Rory fought hard against the panic that was slowly gripping her like a vice, what if she was walking away from safety and further into the woods? She was cursing herself for all her late night scrolling about creatures that supposedly lived in the woods, ones that preyed on humans when they strayed off the trail, well she was so far off any kind of trail she wasn't sure one even existed. She was tired and cold, hungry and thirsty when through the trees she saw the flickering of a fire. Fire meant people right?

Rory approached the group, fully prepared to beg whoever was there for help, for water, she didn't care. The hairs on the back of her neck rose but she ignored it. As she grew closer she noticed something wasn't right about these people but again, she ignored it. "Excuse me? I'm lost and I need some help." All their attention turned to her at once. The orange glow cast upon their faces made her shudder. Their faces were sewn together as if they were wearing masks of skin. the more she took them in the more stitches she noticed, something really wasn't right with these people.

The one closest to her gave her a sickly smile, his teeth all wrong, sharp and jagged with pieces of what she assumed was flesh stuck in between them. Rory took a tentative and involuntary step back. A female approached his side and took her in. "She's pretty." Her voice was terrifying. "I want her." She said, the male looked down at his female counterpart and said in almost a lover's voice, "Then you shall have her." And he lunged.

Rory fell back another step as he lunged for her and then froze at the roar that came from their right. A flash of white launched through the air between them as the male swiped at what should've been her chest with claws that he shouldn't have. The wolf as she now realised it was, yelped as it went down, claws meeting its side instead of her and then it stood, shook itself off and growled. Rory's blood ran cold at the sound, it promised death she thought and prayed that it didn't promise hers.

Her assailants seemed to know this wolf, their panic and excitement was palpable. "The White Wolf!" The leader smiled that horrible smile again, "What a prize!" His female counterpart smiled an equally disturbing smile at him. "We'll both do well today."

A wolf. Rory had never seen a wolf in real life. Big dogs she'd dealt with plenty being a veterinary nurse but never a wolf and she knew through her training that wolves shouldn't be as big as this one was, not even the biggest wolf of record was as big as this one was. She couldn't stop staring as this magnificent beast stood between her and them. It turned its head once to look at her and huffed. "Run." Is what it seemed to say with that huff and its onyx eyes. But she didn't. She couldn't move as she watched the wolf tear into these people and them tearing back at the wolf.

It was over as quickly as it began. The only ones left standing were the male and female who had spoken to her originally and the wolf. Now bleeding in multiple places and his fur now more red than white. Still it stood it's ground between her and them, it had never once given them any ground to get closer to her. "This isn't over!" The female hissed, "I will have her!" The wolf sunk into a defensive stance, one she'd seen dogs make time and time again. The pair made no move to attack and the wolf continued to hold his ground as they backed away.

It wasn't until they were out of sight that the wolf turned and looked at her. Part of her was screaming at her that she should've run while he was distracted, the other part seemed convinced that she was perfectly safe with this apex predator walking towards her slowly, as if she was a deer about to bolt. He'd give chase if she did, she knew that. Deep in her very being she knew that this wolf was no threat and that it had chosen her to protect. "Thank you." Rory breathed out when it was stood directly in front of her, the words shakier than she wanted. "You saved me." The wolf seemed to understand her well enough as it dipped its head once and she couldn't resist the urge to scratch his ears while his head was down.

The wolf's head shot straight back up and she withdrew her hands. "I'm sorry!" She started to ramble, "It was a reward, like with dogs, when their good you scratch their ears and give them loves, I was just trying to thank you and obviously I know you aren't a dog, well you are kinda, like a really really big dog-" she was cut off as the wolf huffed again and Rory would swear for as long as she lived that it was laughing at her as it lowered its head again and nudged her hand. She started up her scratches again and the rumble that left the wolf's chest sounded content as she brought her second hand up to fuss him as well. "See, I knew you'd love this, you're just a good boy who deserves all the pets aren't you?" She asked in that stupid voice that everyone uses to talk to their pets.

"You're hurt!" She suddenly remembered and the wolf's huff sounded annoyed this time as she stopped her ministrations at the top of his head and around his ears. "Will you let me have a look?" She asked as its onyx eyes met hers once more. Instead the wolf walked past her a few meters before stopping and looking back at her expectantly. Rory didn't move. The wolf looked back into the forest and back at her and huffed in annoyance. "Oh!" She gasped, "You want me to follow you?" He lowered his head once more, his way of telling her yes she assumed.

With a quick consideration that she must be out of her mind to follow a wild wolf into the forest once more she moved to follow him. He waited until she was level with his front legs and started to walk again. "My name's Rory." She told him as they began to walk, she didn't know why, it's not as if he could use it, it just felt like the right thing to do. He kept pace with her, never once leaving her behind, he even allowed her to have a hand in the fur of his back to keep herself steady. She wasn't sure how long she'd walked for before they came across a shallow river. The wolf bounded forward and splashed happily through the water, rinsing the blood from his fur and his maw. Rory laughed at him from the bank, "You really are just a big puppy aren't you?" He bound towards her, the intent clear and she took a step back, "Don't you dare!" It was too late, he'd caught the end of her dress in his teeth and had dragged her into the river with him.

She could've sworn the wolf was laughing at her again as she resurfaced, hair plastered to her face, dress floating around her waist and completely see through. "I can't believe you did that!" She swept her arm across the water, splashing the wolf. "It does feel nice on my feet though." He lowered his head once more as if to say, "I know." She pulled herself out of the river and wrung out her hair. "Will you please let me look at your injuries now? You've started to limp, you must be in pain." He shook his head slightly and instead looked up the hill on the other side of the river, a cabin stood atop it. "We're going up there?" He lowered his head. "Will you let me look and help you when we get there?" He lowered his head again. It was getting dark and the temperature was dropping quickly so Rory scratched behind his ear and agreed.

Rory pushed the door open to the cabin, relieved that that had made it. The wolf was struggling now, despite the fun they'd had in the river, she knew he'd over exerted himself and he then helped her up the hill, walking behind her and pushing on her legs and lower back to support her up the steeper parts. The wolf limped in behind her and a fire roared to life in the hearth as soon as he entered. "Okay that was weird." Rory mumbled to herself. The wolf had curled himself in front of the fire and was closing his eyes to rest when she interrupted him. "No, no sleep, let me check!" He huffed in annoyance but let her fuss over him. There wasn't much she could do, she realised, not without any kind of kit. She tore open cupboards in the kitchen and bathroom looking for any kind of first aid or sewing kit as he watched her through the one eye he had open but she came up empty. The only thing she could do is wait and see.

"I think you'll be okay to get some sleep, I'll keep an eye on you." She told him gently, her hand scratching behind his ears again. It wasn't long until he was asleep. She considered running, but it was the middle of the night now, where could she run too? Besides, she was completely safe with the wolf beside her, she knew that in the very marrow of her being. He'd keep her safe, she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

When she woke, she was warm. She could see from her spot on the floor that the fire had gone out so why was it so deliciously warm. She cracked her eyes open and let them adjust to the light but as they did, something tightened around her middle. She looked down to find arms wrapped around her, keeping her pinned to a big, warm chest. Someone was curled around her and the wolf was nowhere in sight.

Rory screamed, as loud as she could, hoping the wolf would hear her. Instead the man behind her shot up, dagger already in his hand and moved in front of her into a defensive position quicker than she could comprehend. She scrambled backwards, as far away from him as possible before her back hit the wall and she had cornered herself.

The man turned to face her, "Rory, what is it? What's wrong?" She paled, "How do you know my name? Have you been following us? Where is the wolf? There was a wolf here!" He lowered his dagger, then dropped it completely. "I know your name because you told it to me, I wasn't following you, I was walking with you, it's me Rory, I'm the wolf." He told her gently, hands up in surrender and he took one small step forward as if she was a skittish animal. "That's impossible! Men don't turn into animals!" She threw back at him. He took another step. "You're right, men don't, but some Fae Males do, and Females."

This man was insane, she needed to leave, to find a way past him and out of the cabin but still, that feeling of safety remained. "Fae? What's a fae?" She asked. "You're not from around here are you? I'm a fae, see?" He showed her his pointed ears and his sharp canines. "We're faerie folk." He told her, she snorted, "Like out of story books?" He shrugged, "I'd say you're the one who is out of a story book, I'm Fenrys by the way." She couldn't believe it. "Fenrys? Like the wolf? From Norse mythology? And you're telling me I'm the one out of a story book."

"I don't know what that means," he told her, "but yes, like the wolf, see?" And with a flash of white he was the wolf from yesterday again. "It really is you?" She breathed and the Male as he'd made it quite clear that he was, stood before her again. "Why did you help me?" She asked, he flashed a flirty grin at her, "I love a damsel in distress and you're too pretty to be worn by a skinwalker." This was all too much. "How did I get here?" She asked him, "There's no Fae or Skinwalkers where I'm from, it's all just legend, folk lore, no men that can turn into wolves." He sat in front of her and crossed his legs, his hand grabbed hers gently, "I don't know Rory, but I think I know someone who might be able to help you. Besides, we don't all turn into wolves, Rowan turns into a Hawk. Dorian can be whatever he wants, so can Lysandra but their powers are vastly different." He stopped suddenly, "This is a bit much right now isn't it?" She nodded and he seemed to be thinking, "Okay, so let's take this one bit at a time, one question at a time, breakfast? Let's start with some breakfast? Sound okay?" Rory nodded at him and he gave her a gentle smile as he pulled her to her feet and steadied her by her waist as she tripped forward.

Once they'd eaten a breakfast of porridge with plenty of honey and some tea, Fenrys hunted through the cabin for something more suitable for her to wear, he came back with a pair of leggings, boots, wool socks and a loose shirt. "It's all I could find, the leggings and boots should fit but the shirt will be too big as it's mine." Rory nodded, "Thank you, is this your cabin?" That was her first question since they'd made the agreement to take it bit by bit, question by question. "It belongs to the Court, we all use it when we travel or hunt, we have them set up all around Erilea." She nodded and moved into the bathroom to change out of her dress.

He was right, the leggings did fit, very nicely in fact and they were so soft. With the thick socks on the boots fit nicely as well. He was also right about his shirt, it was huge. Rory rolled up the sleeves several times and did up half the buttons on the shirt, the other half she left undone so she could tie a knot in the shirt to shorten the length. She then tackled her hair, scraping it up into a bun on top of her head and securing it with a scrap of fabric she found on the side.

Fenrys stopped moving when she re-emerged from the bathroom and he was staring. "What's Erilea?" Rory asked, deciding to ignore his stares, but she couldn't hide the blush that stained her cheeks at the attention of such a beautiful male. She'd been subtly staring at him since this morning. "Is it where we are?" She continued her question. Fenrys pulled himself back into the room and stopped staring at her, "Yes, that's the continent you're on."

He approached her and wrapped a green cloak around her and secured it at her neck. Rory danced happily as she squealed, "I look like I'm in Lord of the Rings, like I'm part of the Fellowship! Are we off to destroy the one ring?" She asked him and Fenrys just looked confused, "I don't know what that is." He told her and she laughed, "I get the feeling we're about to walk a lot, I'll tell you the story of Lord of the Rings as we go." He nodded once and shouldered the pack he'd been putting together while she got changed.

"Ready?" He asked, smiling down at her, god he was tall and beautiful. Rory nodded at him and she took the hand he offered her. "Where are we going anyway?" She asked him, his smile broadened. "To see Aelin."

[shivunin]

Songfic Tag Game

Rules: Pick a song to accompany each of your fics or as many as you like. This might be the fic's inspiration or just pure vibes that you'd like to share with readers. Tag as many people as fics you feature (or do as you please!)

Thank you for the tag @greypetrel!! You know I'm a sucker for anything music-related 💗

Lol well I sure have more fics than I remember, so I'll do them until I'm ready to go back to writing/editing the oc kiss things c:

Tagging back @idolsgf @nightwardenminthara @inquisimer @dreadfutures @bitchesofostwick @vakarians-babe @jtownnn @ndostairlyrium @dungeons-and-dragon-age @star--nymph @zenstrike

Your Fate For Mine: (Elowen decides to sacrifice herself instead of allowing Hawke or Stroud die in the Fade; her friends try to find and bring her back) Anywhere On This Road by Lhasa De Sela

Wander the Drifting Roads: (After a horrible accident, Emmaera loses her Commander and lover in one stroke of a knife. Separated, the two of them must relearn who they are and where their paths lead) Mausoleum by Rafferty or Remember Us by Gabriel Royal or Flowers from Hadestown

Between Strokes of Night: (Hawke and Fenris's first night after deciding to be together again) Awake at Night by half alive

Saccharine: (Arianwen gives in to emotion for the first time in her life and takes Zevran to bed) Saccharine by Jazmin Bean or Kiss Me You Animal by Burn the Ballroom

To the Bone: (Soulmate AU! The last person Salshira intends to seek out is the one on the other side of the flame brand at her jaw. Love is, after all, one of the most dangerous things a person can do. Luck--or fate--drags her to the Inquisition anyway) Die Young by Sylvan Esso or All I've Ever Known from Hadestown

Scattered Stars: (Fenhawke anthology fic--this is where all my Tumblr fics go when they've been edited and expanded upon c:) Right on Time by Brandi Carlile or Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac

Palimpsest: (Fenris's perspective of the events leading up to the romance scene in Act II) That Unwanted Animal by The Amazing Devil or Peregrine by Mako

Tempered: (The Inquisitor learns of a death in the family and tries to manage her grief) Good Grief by Dessa

In Any Life: (Fenris leaves for Tevinter; he and Hawke try to write to each other, but their letters have gone astray) Siuil a Ruin by Anuna or Francesca by Hozier

The Scourge of Sundermount: (A monster lives in the mountains outside of Kirkwall. What fate is there for a monster but a knight with a blade sent to kill it?) Leviathan, the Girl by Phemiec or The Killing Moon by Echo & The Bunnymen or Strangelove by Black Math

Misericordia: (An elaboration on the scene where Cullen explains lyrium addiction to the Inquisitor) The Myth by San Fermin or Nothing Fades Like the Light by Orville Peck

As Two Reflected Stars: (Hawke and Fenris's developing relationship, as traced by the healing of wounds) I Know You Know by Charming Disaster or Arms by San Fermin or Anybody Else by The Ballroom Thieves

Book of Memories: (Sequel of sorts to Wander; moments in Emma and Cullen's relationships, each carefully noted in a single book for later reference) You and Me On the Rock by Brandi Carlile or Photograph by Cody Fry

Sleight of Hand: (Hawke is a stage magician. She's asked very few questions about her surly assistant, which has worked just fine for both of them--until his past comes calling) Enchante by Dirt Poor Robins or The Magic by Lola Blanc

[sulky-valkyrie]

fenris/anders/nate prompt: da2 quest 'finding nathaniel', fenris seeing anders flirt with nate, and nate also seeing anders flirt with fenris. bonus points for being jealous and in denial, DOUBLE bonus points for any reflections on changes or consistencies in anders from awakening to da2

hullo my darling!! This may have run off the rails a bit, and I'm not sure I earned all my points, but I hope you like it regardless and HAPPY FRIDAY 💖💖💖 for @dadrunkwriting

“That was foolish, but timely; thank y - Anders?”  The Warden they’d rescued stopped mid-sentence to gape at the man in question.

Regret and . . . something else flickered across his face.  “You can’t get rid of me, Howe.”

Howe shook his head.  “Never wanted to,” he said softly, so softly that Fenris was certain no one was meant to hear it. 

Hawke prodded at one of the corpses with their staff.  “So, why are you down here, anyway?  Other than to upset your sister.”

“Delilah’s here?”  He sighed.  “Maker, she’s as bad as our m-”

“As bad as the Commander, right?” Anders cut him off with a tinge of hysterical desperation in his voice.  “’Where are you going, how are you getting there, when will you be back, did you bring mittens, don’t let the darkspawn smack you on the ass on the way out?’”

He frowned.  “It’s his -”

“Anyway, let’s get out of here, right?”  The mage took a few steps forward, then glanced back at Fenris, clearly conflicted.  “I - everyone, this is Nate.  He’s -” He cocked his head and looked at Nate.  “There are more of them.”

Nate nodded grimly.  “There were six of us originally.  I tried to lead the rest of the pack away to give Dworkin’s cousin time to set the lyrium charges.”

“Maker, is he as bad as -”

“He is,” Nate chuckled.  

It was like they weren’t even speaking in Trade anymore.  Fenris gave Hawke and Isabela a helpless look.  Bela, of course, made a rude gesture impling sex, and Hawke shrugged as they crouched down to pick at the nearest corpse for anything useful.  “You said you had to lead them away?  Away from where?”

Nate shook his head.  “I can’t tell you that.”  He turned to leave.  

“Asshole, do you want help or not?”  Anders snapped, lunging forward to grab at the quiver on his back and spin him around.  “If you go back down there alone, you’ll die!” 

Nate shrugged.  “You did.  Suppose it’s my turn now.”  He started to pull away.  “And if you get involved, I won’t be able to keep everyone quiet.  Not this time.”

“Do I look like I care?!” Anders hissed, grabbing at his elbow as cracks of blue light spilled out from his skin.  “This isn’t about me, this is about people in danger, and I’m not about to just let you die if we can help it!”

Nate looked down at the fingers digging into his arm, then smiled sadly.  “I suppose not.  Good to see you, Justice.”

Justice pursed his lips in annoyance.  “You were not happy to see me before.”

“I -”  Nate closed his mouth.  “I was wrong about that.  Can this wait?  If you want to help, if anyone is still alive, we need to move.”

“It would not be just to allow innocents to come to harm while selfishly looking for my own answers,” Justice agreed.  He released Nate’s arm and pulled out his staff.  “Lead on.”

He didn’t even check to see if the rest of them followed as he and Nate headed down the hallway.  

Hawke sighed, pulled themselves back up to their feet, and started after him, with Bela close behind.  Nothing about this felt right.  Anders was being cagey, Justice was upset, Hawke was following instead of leading, and Bela was keeping her mouth shut.  Did she know this other Warden from back in Ferelden as well?  

Hawke’s voice echoed as Fenris hurried after them.  “Nate, do you know my brother?  Carver Hawke?”

There was a long awkward pause.  “We’ve met,” Nate said slowly.  “He was - he’s in Orlais.”

Bela leaned close to Hawke to stage whisper in their ear as Fenris caught up.  “I smell a story there.”

They barked a short laugh.  “That’s not all you smell.  Was it this bad last time?”

“Thaw’s ending,” Anders answered.  “More of them around.  A lot more.”  He tilted his head, like a dog scenting something.  “Emissary?  No, two.”

Nate chuckled fondly.  “Justice finally taught you how to do that?”  

“More like Kristoff.”  He tapped his temple.  “It’s pretty crowded up here.”

Fenris frowned.  Who was Kristoff?  And why was Anders so concerned anyway?  He’d spent the last seven years bitching about Vigil’s Keep; had it all been a lie?  And if it had all been a lie, what else was he hiding?  Before he could ask anything, as if by some sort of unspoken agreement, Nate and Anders broke into a sprint around the next bend.  

There was a woosh of fire, bright enough that Fenris had to look away, and a rasping scream that turned into a gurgling death rattle. Fenris rushed forward, sword at the ready, but found nothing to attack.

“These seem . . . less fearsome,” Anders mused thoughtfully as he toed at a charred corpse and juggled a small ball of lightning from one hand to the other.

“I’m not sure anything could be scary after the Mother,” Nate replied as he yanked an arrow out of a genlock’s corpse.  

Anders snickered.  “Too many tits, that’ll scare any man off.”  

The easy camaraderie between them made Fenris’ heart clench.  He’d never considered himself jealous or possessive before, but the look in Nate’s eyes when Anders laughed made him want to rip them right out of his skull.  What was their history?  Any fool could see they had one.  

Another pack of darkspawn rounded the corner.  They didn’t seem to notice or care that there were three other people in the cave, just screamed in that almost-language of theirs and charged directly at the two Wardens.  

Fenris was too far to intercept them, and coming from the wrong angle, but he tried anyway, flaring his lyrium for the extra speed.

And it didn’t matter.  Anders threw the lightning out almost casually, and Nate sent a volley of arrows out so quickly it was a wonder the force of the spell didn’t shatter them.  The darkspawn were pinned down in a matter of moments, and the ones that hadn’t been stunned outright pulled out makeshift bows and slings.  

The entire side of the cave crackled with magic as Anders continued to hurl electricity and fire, and Fenris decided he was better off just sitting this one out and watching.  They fought together seamlessly, almost like a dance, constantly moving, constantly weaving in front of each other, and somehow never hitting the other with a spell or an arrow.  It was a dizzying display, and horrifyingly effective.  Each spin and turn they did left another darkspawn dead and another two grievously wounded. 

Fasta vass.  Fenris had never felt so useless in his life.  He’d been ready to fight tooth and nail to keep him here, keep him safe, but . . . even in the Deep Roads, even surrounded by charred genlocks and exploded emissaries, Anders looked happy.  Happier than he’d ever seen him in Kirkwall.

Whatever their history was, it was obvious that they still cared for each other, and who was Fenris to stand in the way of that?  A runaway slave and an elf living in a derelict stolen mansion.  What could he offer him?  Certainly not safety or security.  The Wardens might come with their own kind of death sentence, but at least he’d be safe from Templars.

“You’ve gotten sloppy,” Nate said, breathing hard and smiling.

“Not much call for Warden practice drills in the sewer.” He shrugged.  

Nate’s arm circled his waist in a way that was clear he’d done it many times before.  “Come home.”  

Anders leaned into his touch, then shook his head, almost like he’d suddenly remembered something, and stepped back, tossing an apologetic glance at Fenris.  “I - I can’t.”  He shook his head again as Justice surfaced.  “There is too much to do and we are two souls in one body.”

“Aedan and I could protect you,” Nate protested.  “Void take it, even the bloody King likes you, so-”

“No more hiding, Nathaniel.  The Grey Wardens have their own justice to pursue and we have ours.”

Nate caught his sleeve. “But -”

Justice receded as Anders patted his hand gently.  “I’m not the man I was, Nate.  You wouldn’t like this one as much anyway.”

“I like him alive,” Nate grumbled, letting go and walking stiffly over to the pile of corpses to retrieve his arrows.  

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as they continued through the tunnels, broken up only by brief skirmishes and briefer thank yous afterward.   Anders wouldn’t meet Fenris’ eyes, but he also kept his distance from Nate as much as fighting in close quarters would allow.  By the time they finally made it down to the lyrium charges, not even Bela and Hawke could keep the conversation and they could talk about anything.

They found a dwarf with a head wound behind an outcropping near one of the explosives.  As Anders patched him up, Nate sidled over.

“He’s trying to hide it, but I’ve seen how he looks at you.  Are you and Anders . . . something?”  he asked quietly.

“Were you?”  It was petty, answering a question with a question.  He might not fight to keep him, but he wasn’t going to surrender either.

Nate sighed.  “Felt like a lifetime ago.”

Anger flared up in his chest, spreading out like fire through his markings.  “Then why did you let this happen to him?” he hissed.  “Why take the cat, why let them try to kill him?  Why let him merge with a-”

“You think I had a choice in any of that?”  Nate snapped back.

“There’s always a choice,” Fenris growled.  “And you chose to -”

Suddenly Anders was between them, pressing them apart, and eyes flashing blue.  “Not now, Temmerin says Merrin was still alive when he ran.  That cut to his head was still fresh, he can’t have been unconscious for long.” 

Nate nodded sharply and turned to follow the trail of bombs back to their source.  Anders watched him and sighed wistfully as he tucked his hand into Fenris’ palm.  “I never thought I’d see him again,” he muttered softly.  “Didn’t expect it to hurt this bad.”

He squeezed Anders’ hand lightly.  “What did Justice mean about him not being happy to see him again?”

“We - he found me.”  He shuddered.  “After we . . . you know.  Covered everything up for me so it would look like I died.  Wasn’t happy about any of it.”

“And Ser Pounce-a-Lot?”  Fenris asked.  “Did he -”

Anders barked a harsh laugh.  “No, that was someone else who ordered that.  Nate suggested giving him to his sister, actually.  We gave him to my - Kristoff’s widow.  We were going to see her when Rolan cornered us.”  He shuddered.  “We should keep moving.”

The stench increased the deeper they went; it was that sickly sweet odor of decaying flesh, but mixed with burned hair and excrement.  Hawke had their face covered with a sleeve, and even Bela looked a bit green, but the two Wardens didn’t seem phased at all.  Was this some other side effect of the Joining?  Or were they simply used to it?

They found Merrin’s corpse surrounded by charred pieces of ogres a few hours later, though ‘corpse’ was a generous way to describe it.  ‘Smear’ was more accurate.  Nate crouched down to examine the remains.  “He must’ve waited to detonate it until they were practically on top of him,” Nate said, suddenly looking years older.  “We were too late.”

“Story of my life,” Anders muttered.  

Nate exhaled slowly as he stood up.  “Thanks for the help.  I suppose we don’t need to worry about anyone finding out.”

Anders ran a hand through his hair and made a frustrated noise.  “At least come back to Kirkwall.  Prove to Delilah you’re not dead?”

“Weisshaupt is waiting for a report.”

“They won’t get it for three months, they can wait a few more days.” Anders caught his quiver, in almost the same gesture as before.  “At least have a hot meal and a night’s sleep in a real bed? For old times sake?”

Fenris frowned.  “Anders, I’m not -”

“I’m not inviting him home,” he sighed, then tugged at Nate again.  “Just a night at the Hanged Man, choking down mystery stew and making friends with the fleas.”

Nate chuckled softly.  “You drive a hard bargain.  Fine.”

~~

They camped out near the surface that evening.  Bela and Hawke had spent most of the trek talking quietly.  Fenris caught a few snatches here and there of what sounded like a hushed argument, but he wasn’t about to get involved in any sort of lovers’ quarrel.  He wasn’t about to get involved in any ex-lovers’ quarrels either, but Venhedis, it was difficult.  

His lip twisted up grimly as he glanced over at Nate while he speared some foraged mushrooms on a stick to roast over the fire.  Anders was circling the perimeter anxiously, apparently too full of nervous energy to rest even after spending all that mana fighting and healing.

“You’ve been watching me,” Nate said.

There was no reason to deny it.  “So have you.”

“He makes terrible decisions sometimes,” Nate replied, answering the real question that hung between them.  “I hope you’re not one of them.”

“Were you?”

Nate flinched.  “In the end?  Probably.  Don’t let him push you away when he’s -” he sighed.  “Does he even still get like that?  Those moods when everything is wrong, especially him?”

Fenris thought back to Anders arriving on his doorstep after he and Justice nearly killed a girl, begging him to tell him whether he was a monster.  “He can,” he answered slowly.

“And you’ve stayed?”

He snorted. “Do I look like I’ve gone anywhere?”

“Don’t.”  Nate wiped at his eye.  “He’s - he needs people.  People who don’t leave.”

“Like you’re going to.  Again.”  Why was he arguing with him about it?  Was this even an argument?  Shouldn’t he be glad any former lover would soon be on his way and out of their lives?  Fenris turned to watch Anders picking his way around the camp.  Blue light flashes across his skin occasionally, and his mouth was moving constantly.  Some sort of discussion with Justice, no doubt.  

No.  He shouldn’t be glad.  Not when it hurt Anders like this.  The man had lost enough, and seeing him regain a measure of it, even for a moment, just to watch it fade away?  Unacceptable.

“You heard him: the Wardens have our own justice, and he has his.”  He shook his head ruefully.  “Literally.”

“Come home with us.”  Fenris felt almost as surprised by his words as Nate looked.  He swallowed and tried to backtrack through whatever reasoning had lead that snap decision.  “He - you said it yourself: he needs people who don’t leave.”

Nate arched an eyebrow.  “And where will you be?”

“Wherever he wants.”  His face warmed as he realized how many ways that could be taken.  Fenris walked over to the other side of the fire to crouch next to him and offer his hand.  “We know you can’t stay, but that doesn’t mean you have to leave.”

He looked down at his palm curiously.  Cautiously.  “They’ll come looking for me.”  It wasn’t an excuse, but a warning.

Fenris bared his teeth.  “Let them.”

Nate answered him with a feral grin of his own as he clasped his forearm.  

“What Andraste’s oversized bloomers are you doing?”  Anders was closing in on them, and squinting suspiciously.  “You’re not telling him about all the dumb shit I did in Vigil’s Keep, are you?”

“Haven’t had the time.”  He stood up fluidly, pulling Fenris up behind him with an unexpected strength, then cupped Anders’ cheek.  "But I'll make it later."

Anders' eyes widened, then rolled toward Fenris in surprise. "I don't - what?"

Fenris smiled and stepped to his other side to wrap an arm around his waist and press a gentle kiss to his jaw.  “If you wish it, he’ll be returning home with us.”

[rainydaygt]

u have fave characters right? from any media? alright, list them and rank on a scale of 1-10 how good they would be with a tiny.

Okay so I got a little carried away and these are not ranked in any particular order (except alistair) so WHOOPS, i should be put on r/wooosh but here you go. Enjoy <3

One - Alistair Theirin, Dragon Age (origins)

My wife. He would be VERY good with a tiny. Careful and protective and gentle—constantly checking to make sure youre doing alright and cracking stupid jokes to keep the mood light. His big, stupid hands are as warm as his big, stupid heart. You would be 10000% safe around him.

Two - Fenris, Dragon Age (2)

My girlfriend. Fenris is, despite all appearances, one of the most normal chill guys in dragon age imo. He would not be pushy or grab you out of nowhere, respecting boundaries and personal space is extremely important to him. There’s not another place quite so safe as Fenris’s hands in all of Kirkwall. Actually that’s not saying a lot, Kirkwall sucks.

Three - Arthur Morgan, Red Dead Redemption (2)

My husband. Now, Arthur may look and act all big and tough and scary, but deep down he’s got a soft spot for little things and creatures. You would be no exception to this. You’d make several appearances in his journal and in his hands. He doesn’t fully trust himself with you, feeling like a big brute that could easily crush you, but he trusts most of the camp even less. Arthur gets into too much trouble himself to guarantee your safety, but he would do everything in his power to keep you alive and well.

Four - Wyll Ravengard, Baldur’s Gate (3)

My husband(2.0). Wyll quite literally treats you like a prince/princess. You will receive the utmost loyalty, chivalry and respect when you’re around him. Every hand will be presented as an offering; a question, rather than a demand or a force. He will be wide eyed with wonder at you, how small you are, and overcome with the urge to protect you at all costs. He may come across a bit overbearing in this regard, but his heart is always in the right place.

Five - Viktor, Arcane

Viktor would be very, very curious about you. He might be a bit less reserved when it comes to picking you up, but he’s gentle and careful nonetheless. He thinks you’re incredible and is reluctant to let you go, assuming this is a borrower situation; but you both know you’ll be back. His hands will be twitching to hold you again until you do. What a wonderful curiosity you are, to him. He’d want to study you, at least a little, and even if you refuse he’s still at least taking notes on your behavior. He can’t help it!

Six - Astarion Ancunin, Baldur’s Gate (3)

Albeit curious, Astarion wouldn’t pay you much mind at first. It’s not until you start showing him consistent kindness and interest that he actually starts to have conversations with you and wants to be around you. In the beginning, if you’re to be picked up it would be with an eye roll and a gentle fist. Later on, he cares a great deal more about if you’re comfortable and starts to offer his hand to you instead. Why you seem to like him so much, romantic or not, he can’t seem to puzzle out. He can’t provide you with the earthly services he’s given for so long, so you’re a curiosity and a mystery to him and he is enraptured by you.

Seven - Zevran, Dragon Age (Origins)

If there’s one thing that’s important to Zevran, it’s bodily autonomy, and due to this you would be asked every single time you need to be picked up or carried somewhere. It doesn’t matter how comfortable you get with each other, he’s firm on always making sure to ask before you’re in his hands. He never closes you in a fist and is incredibly gentle and careful. It feels very surprising to you, seeing as he’s a literal assassin, but it’s more than welcome. It’s very easy to feel very safe around him.

That’s all I could conjure up for now! The rest of them would all just be more Dragon Age characters and I already fear I’ve accidentally mischaracterized them as is. So, thanks for the ask, do come back to my box again!!

[leiawritesstories]

Do Not Touch That Oven

hey @writtenonreceipts, happy birthday!!! you are such a talented writer and a wonderful person, and I hope you have the best day <3 here's some Aelin-Elide friendship fluff and shenanigans :))

~1k words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ells!” Aelin squealed, opening her front door for her best friend. 

“Calm down, Ace,” Elide laughed, giving her taller best friend a hug, “you literally saw me yesterday.”

“Oh, this isn’t me talking, it’s the caffeine.” 

“Hellas,” Elide snorted, heading for the kitchen with her bag of ingredients, “someone needs to hide the coffee from you.” 

“Someone isn’t here this weekend,” Aelin smirked. “He’s on the boys’ trip.” 

Right. The “boys’ trip.” Gods only knew why Rowan, Lorcan, Fenrys, Connall, Vaughan, Aedion, and Dorian had decided to go camping that weekend, but Aelin and Elide were dead fucking certain that they’d all come back hungover and probably bearing a few bruises, if they made it back alive at all. 

In the meantime, though, Elide was staying at Aelin’s overnight for their monthly girls’ night, and she’d brought the stuff to make cookies because Aelin had taken one look into her pantry and quickly decided to put her much wiser friend in charge of the shopping. The last time she’d been entrusted to go to the store, Aelin had hardly been able to find the few things on her list, returning with milk, eggs, and flour–which she’d been asked to buy–as well as twenty dollars’ worth of junk food. She just couldn’t help herself. 

Aelin followed Elide into the kitchen, perching herself on one of the high stools at the island. “So what are we making?” 

“Double chocolate cookies,” Elide replied, unloading a bunch of cooking ingredients onto the counter. Aelin had eyes for exactly one of those things. 

“Chocolate!” she crowed, tearing into the bag of dark chocolate chunks. 

Elida snatched it before she could grab more than a few pieces. “Uh uh, Ace, hands off!” 

“Bitch,” Aelin grumbled halfheartedly, fake-pouting. 

“If you eat them all now, there won’t be any for the cookies. And you like cookies with extra chocolate.” 

“Damn straight I do!” Aelin cheered up. “Shit, Ells, you know me too well.” 

“Fourteen years of friendship and that’s all you have to say?” Elide placed her hand over her chest. “I’m wounded.” 

Aelin snorted. “Yeah, yeah, no you’re not.” 

“No I’m not.” She pointed a wooden spoon at the taller girl. “Now get a bowl, this is your kitchen and you have to help somehow, even if you’re a disaster behind the stove.” 

“Rude!” But she grabbed a mixing bowl from a cabinet and slid it over to Elide. Then she grabbed her phone, setting her speaker up on a shelf so it wouldn’t get knocked over, and put on their joint playlist. 

The two of them made a bit of a flour and cocoa mess on the counter, what with singing into their spoons like they were pop stars and having a small bit of a flour fight, but the dough got made–with a minimum of Aelin swiping tastes–and scooped onto a baking sheet. 

Aelin checked the recipe card for the oven temperature. “Ells!” 

“What?” 

“We’re supposed to bake these at 375, right?” 

“Yes bitch, can you read?” Elide rolled her eyes, snickering. 

“Bitch!” Aelin threw an oven mitt at her. “Well we have a ton of cookies to bake and it’s going to take forever,” she complained. 

“So what are you suggesting…” Elide looked a little suspicious. 

“If we bake them at a higher temperature, they’ll be ready a lot faster, right?” She grinned, so damn proud of herself. 

Elide grabbed the baking sheet right out of her hands. “Do not touch the oven!” she commanded. “We don’t want the house burned down.” 

Aelin gasped in mock affront. “I’m not going to burn the house down!” she protested. 

“Mhmm,” Elide deadpanned, sliding the cookies into the oven and setting the timer. “You keep telling yourself that, Ace.” 

Aelin grumbled something crude under her breath and went over to the sink to help clean up the dirty dishes. She couldn’t let Elide do everything, even though she knew that if she left the dishes unattended, the petite girl just couldn’t help herself. 

The oven timer beeped ten minutes later and Aelin crowed with joy, hurrying over to take out the pan. Elide beat her there, swatting her hands away. 

“No touching!” she said in her very best mom voice. 

Aelin stuck out her tongue. “I’ll touch whatever I want to touch.” 

“Not with me, you won’t.” Elide winked lewdly, waggling her brows. 

Aelin, who’d just taken a gulp from her water bottle, spewed her water all over the kitchen floor. “ELLS!” she screeched, her face flaring red. 

Elide howled with laughter as she took the cookies out of the oven and put the next pans in. “You telling me I’m wrong?”

“Hell no,” Aelin returned, wiggling her own brows. “You better believe I touch whatever I want to touch when Rowan stays over.” 

“Okay, okay, enough!” Elide groaned, covering her ears. “Fuck, I did not need to know that!” 

“That’s what you get for oversharing about you and Lorcan,” Aelin teased. 

“Oh, trust me Ace, I’m not the one who overshares.”

“Right,” Aelin nodded sagely, “that would be Dorian.” 

Elide cackled as she transferred the cookies to wire cooling racks. “Damn straight.” 

“Which he is not,” Aelin declared, giggling helplessly. 

Elide laughed harder, almost dropping the cookies. “Makes for some interesting stories, it does, the kind of men he flirts with.” 

Aelin agreed. She finished up the dishes and strolled over to the cookies, swiping a warm one off the rack before Elide could smack her hands away. “Fuck,” she groaned through her mouthful, “these are so yummy, Ells!” 

“Save a few of them for the guys,” Elide reminded her as she stacked five more onto a small plate. “They’ll want their sweets too.” 

“Their sweets are right here,” Aelin smirked, gesturing to herself and Elide. “And you better believe they’ll get these sweets when they come home.” She winked broadly. 

And both of them collapsed into helpless laughter, wheezing at their own hilarity and their wicked wicked plans for surprising their boyfriends when they came back from their trip. 

~~~

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[ofwolvesandshatteredshields]

A Good Qunari

Pre-Inquisition. Bull and the Chargers come across an injured Fenris while traveling through Tevinter. The Chargers have just finished reading The Tale of the Champion and are ecstatic to meet one of its heroes in the flesh. But Fenris has interfered with Qunari operations in the North, and the Qun wants him dead or alive. Bull needs to figure out a way to get Fenris to Par Vollen—or, if that proves too difficult, to put him down. Ch. 2/2, 11.3k words

——

“Do you think the Maker’s finally had it with us mere mortals, and now he’s trying to drown us all like rats and start over again?”

Dalish glances over at Skinner. “My clan used to say the rain was Mythal weeping for the pain her children suffer.”

Skinner nods thoughtfully. “And what do you say?”

Dalish pushes her soggy blonde locks from her face and heaves a sigh. “More like the Creators had too much to drink and now we’re riding around down here like idiots while they piss it all out.”

“Speaking of drinking,” Bull says. “How you doing, Krem?”

Krem is hunched over his horse and responds with a rude gesture. Bull guffaws. “That good, huh?”

“I keep telling you, you’ve got to drink more water,” Dalish chides. “Too much ale, not enough pissing.”

“Fuck off,” he mumbles.

“Well, at least one of us had a good night. My purse is practically sagging,” Skinner says with a self-satisfied smile.

“Rocky enjoyed himself too.” Dalish twists. “Caught a few seconds of you fighting that big bastard.”

“He spilled my drink!”

“Did I see you get him in the stones?”

Rocky shrugs. “Not my fault he was taller than me.”

(read on ao3)