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[tevivinter]

🌺 Tell me a preconeption/headcanon you have for one of my characters... 🌺

And I’ll rate how accurate it is on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being way off and 10 being basically canon!

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i'm having the wayhaven brainrot with this last demo.... martha I'm back in the fuckin building again

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happy thedas weekend!! For the Caelen, Marel, and Dorian family, maybe a comfort hug from the hug prompts? 🥺

thanks a lot for the prompt!! i had this scene in my mind for so long and i finally got it out :') for @thedasweekend (veilguard spoilers below)

The Fade shifted, dragging him from one dream into another.

Caelen had long since lost count of how many places he’d wandered through. The Lighthouse. The streets of Minrathous. His old room. The Shadow Dragons’ hideout. Each one felt familiar, yet twisted with something wrong . Something that crawled underneath his skin. In the back of his mind, voices whispered restlessly.

His companions. His friends. His family. All of them dripping with venom.

“Where were you when we needed you?” Neve questioned. “All you ever did was bring shame to the Shadow Dragons,” hissed Tarquin.

Caelen walked on, jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides. He didn’t know the way out — only that he had to keep going. This prison wasn’t meant for mortals, but for gods . And it fed on regret. The very same thing he was trying to avoid.

“I thought I taught you better than this.” Marel sounded rough with disappointment. “You are no son of mine.” Dorian’s words were colder than steel.

Caelen knew they weren’t real. Knew better than to listen. But how could he not, when each word hit like a knife, cutting invisible wounds across his skin?

“This is your fault,” Lucanis accused. “You’re worthless.” Harding nearly spit out.

He swallowed hard as the echoes grew more insistent. The floor shifted beneath him, the stones grinding to form a broken staircase. A possible escape. His steps quickened, heart thudding against his ribs, as if speed alone could outpace the voices. He had to move. Had to get out. Had to—

“Hey, kid.”

Caelen froze.

He turned, eyes wide as they scanned the ruins stretching endlessly into the void. The Fade had twisted memories before, tailoring them to some kind of regret. It had to be another illusion.

And yet… this one felt different from the others.

“…Varric?” His voice broke.

“Figured you might need a hand,” the familiar rasp echoed through the stillness. “This way.”

The Fade stirred.

Suddenly, the world had rearranged itself once more. The ruins were gone, replaced by stone walls pressing in from all sides, caging Caelen in what appeared to be the inside of a tower. Only one door remained.

“Where are you?” Caelen called out, dread blooming in his spine.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

Caelen stepped forward, his every nerve on edge. The door creaked open, as if bearing a mind of its own. A different landscape awaited him on the other side.

He recognized it immediately. One by one, statues of the Evanuris rose in the horizon, towering on the center of it all.

Solas’s ritual site.

Caelen pursed his lips at the sight of it. Adrenaline pulsed faster in his veins as he crossed the bridge, slowly but surely. His boots thudded against the pavement, matching the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Then his own voice rang out.

“Come on, Varric. We didn’t come all this way just to talk to him.”

The sound pulled him forward like a tether, distant and close all at once. A memory repeating itself.

“He was my friend. I gotta try to reach him. And if he won’t listen to me…” Varric’s voice was sharp with resolve. “…then he’ll hear it from Bianca.”

Caelen’s hands were slick with sweat. His throat tightened, breath catching for reasons he couldn’t name yet. Not until he stepped through the archway.

There, beneath the altar where Solas had once stood, lay Varric’s body.

Caelen stilled before it.

And then the memories crashed into him like a tidal wave, sudden and unrelenting.

He remembered it all. The moment Solas drove the blade into Varric, the horrifying sound of steel meeting flesh. Disbelief flashed in Varric’s eyes before he collapsed to the ground.

“Varric!” Caelen had shouted, knees scraping over stone as he fell beside him.

His palms hovered over Varric’s chest, glowing bright with magic. He poured out every last drop of mana he had, reaching for a healing spell he didn’t really know how to cast.

“Come on,” he muttered, shaking. “No, no, please—”

But the spell flickered in and out like a dying flame. He wasn’t a healer. Never had been. Caelen pushed harder still, ignoring the pain ripping across his arms. A surge of newfound magic flared in his hands, and he groaned from the strain. His vision blurred, tears stinging his eyes, but he didn’t stop.

“Stay with me,” he sobbed. “Please, Varric, just hold on—”

He could do this. He had to. If he could just keep Varric alive a little longer, just long enough for a proper healer to get there—

Varric’s head slumped to the side.

His heartbeat echoed faintly in Caelen’s ears… until it stopped.

For a moment, the world itself went still. The magic around Caelen’s hands vanished immediately. He could only stare, frozen in place, as the truth sank in.

Then came the blast.

Magic erupted across the ruins, slamming Caelen backward. Pain tore through his back as he crashed into a wall, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. Just before the darkness closed in, he caught one last glimpse of Varric in the corner of his vision. Motionless. Dead.

And now…

Caelen stood once more in the ruins, staring down at the same scene. Varric remained there, his blood painting the stone crimson.

“You’re dead,” he whispered. “This whole time, I…”

His knees gave in. He dropped to the ground, the weight of realization too much for him to bear.

“I thought you were there with me,” he continued. “But you weren’t.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that, kid.”

Varric’s voice came from behind him. Caelen didn’t turn. His guilt kept him rooted in place, and he stared into the void instead.

“...So I failed you too,” he muttered. “Like I did with everyone else.”

Varric held back a sigh.

“Shit. Haven’t you learned anything from this place?” He asked, stepping into view. “I made the choice to talk to him, even knowing the risks. Because he was my friend.”

Caelen forced himself to meet his gaze, even as tears gathered in his eyes.

“It was my decision,” Varric said gently. “ My sacrifice. And you don’t get to take that from me.”

“Varric, I—” Caelen choked out. “I can’t do this without you.”

Varric’s expression softened. “But you already did.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Think about it. I met you when you were just a scrawny boy with an alarming tendency to set things on fire.” He went on, his voice catching before he pushed through. “And look at you now. You’ve come a long way, kid.”

For a moment, he looked exactly as Caelen remembered him. The storyteller who always managed to lighten up the mood of those around him. The man who stood beside his friends countless times, even when no one else would. His mentor. His friend .

Tears flowed down Caelen’s face. Each one carved deeper into his composure, breaking through what little strength he had left. He slumped forward, burying his face in his hands, unable to hold himself together any longer.

Varric placed a hand on Caelen’s shoulder. His touch felt too real in a place where nothing was meant to be.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Don’t get all misty-eyed on me, okay? I had a good run. And I don’t regret a second of it.”

Caelen shook his head. There was so much he wanted to say, but the words tangled in his throat.

“It’s not fair,” he sobbed. “You deserved better. You deserved to be alive .”

Varric turned his gaze toward the stairs, his expression distant. “Every story’s got an ending,” he murmured. “This one just came a little earlier than I planned.”

It was unbearable — knowing this was the last time he would see Varric. The last time they would share a conversation. The tears fell faster now, but Caelen didn’t look away, unwilling to waste a single second of his company.

“I’ll miss you so much,” Caelen whispered.

“Yeah. Me too.” Varric’s smile faltered, the warmth in it tinged with something deeper. Sorrow, perhaps. “But you’ve got your own story to finish.”

He reached out and offered his hand.

Caelen hesitated before taking it, his fingers trembling as they closed around Varric’s. He allowed Varric to pull him to his feet, wiping his cheeks, breath shuddering as he tried to steady himself.

“I promise I’ll end this,” Caelen said at last, molten eyes burning with determination. “I’ll stop Solas and the gods.”

“I know you will.” Varric nodded as he turned toward the stairway, where a shimmering portal waited at the top.

“Solas wants to be the hero,” he said, taking a step forward. “That’s who he is, deep down. But it’s easier for him to play the villain.” His gaze lingered on the light ahead. “Remind him of who he used to be. Chances are he might actually listen.”

Caelen followed, a bitter scoff escaping him. “I’m not sure if I’ll be in the mood for peaceful conversation when the time comes. Not after everything he’s done.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that,” Varric huffed. “But do me a favor — try not to set half of Thedas on fire while you’re at it.”

Caelen managed a weak chuckle. “I’ll try my best.”

They soon reached the final step. He hesitated — not out of fear, but because leaving meant letting go. Caelen turned, his eyes meeting Varric’s.

“Here’s one last piece of advice,” Varric said. “When things get rough — and they will — listen to your team. Like you always do. They’ve got your back.”

Caelen nodded, glancing toward the portal.

“There! A light!”“We’ve got something — hurry!”

Familiar voices rang out from the other side. His companions.

“They’re waiting for you,” Varric said, stepping back just slightly. “You should go. I’d say good luck, but let’s be honest — you don’t need it.”

Caelen gave a faint smile, but his throat became tight again. “I know I didn’t say this often, but… thank you.” His words were thick with emotion. “For everything.”

Varric’s expression softened. When he spoke again, there was a bittersweet tone to him.

“One last thing, kid.” His gaze dropped. “Tell Hawke… she lost her bet.”

“Sure.” Caelen’s chest gave a small, painful twist. He looked at Varric one last time, memorizing every line of his face. “Goodbye, Varric.”

And with that, he stepped into the light.

The Fade split open, distorting the space between dream and reality. Caelen squinted as brightness enveloped him, white-hot and blinding.

The moment he crossed the threshold, his knees buckled.

All the raw magic he’d endured in the Fade had drained him, his body and mind feeling a little more than a hollow shell. Now, the real world surged back all at once, too fast for him to follow. 

It felt like being crushed beneath gravity after being weightless for too long. His senses dulled, limbs stiffening. The ground tilted as his consciousness threatened to slip away.

He found himself falling.

Caelen braced for the impact — but it never came.

Strong arms caught him just in time, wrapping around him with such urgency that it stole the last breath from his lungs. His head fell against a broad chest.

“Caelen!” Marel’s voice cut through the haze, pulling him back. “Fenedhis — you’re here.”

Caelen’s awareness slowly began to return.

Moving seemed like an impossible task, with all the remains of the Fade prickling underneath his skin. Still, the sensation of being held registered clearly. Marel’s hands trembled where they clutched Caelen’s back, pulling him even closer.

“Ma’da’isenatha…” his whisper was little more than a broken plea. “Talk to me. Please.”

The desperation in his tone hit Caelen harder than any other magic had.

And then he felt it — a drip over his temple, followed by another. His father’s tears.

Caelen’s breath stuttered, guilt and love and exhaustion twisting in his chest all at once. He made an effort to lift his arms and wrap them around Marel’s waist. He pressed closer, not just to reassure himself, but him . 

“I’m here,” he muttered weakly. “I made it back.”

Dorian was beside them in a heartbeat. His hand cupped the back of Caelen’s neck, but unlike Marel, his touch was lighter. Gentler.

“Maker, Caelen,” Dorian said, voice strained with worry. “Are you hurt?”

Caelen turned his head slightly, just enough to catch the sight of Dorian beside him — his face pale, brows knit with worry, eyes scanning Caelen’s body as if trying to make sure he was still whole.

“I don’t think so,” he murmured. “Not physically, at least.”

Dorian let out a relieved breath and touched Caelen’s shoulder, carefully at first. And then he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around him and Marel both. His hand settled at the back of Caelen’s head, fingers brushing across his hair in soothing motions.

“Kaffas. You were gone for two weeks,” Dorian’s words caught. “We’ve been looking for you ever since.”

Caelen blinked. “…Two weeks?”

He tried to process it, but the thought refused to settle. It had felt like a couple days at most. Perhaps less. Time in the Fade was always strange, but two weeks was far longer than he anticipated.

He understood it now. The worry in their voices. Why Marel held him so tight, like something precious that had slipped through his fingers. Caelen nodded, eyes glistening again.

“...I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“No,” Marel’s reply came swiftly, cutting as sharp as a sword. “You don’t get to blame yourself for this.”

Caelen swallowed, the lump in his throat thickening.

“You didn’t choose to get trapped,” Marel continued. “This is Solas’s fault.”

“What truly matters is that you’re back,” Dorian added, his hand still resting at the nape of Caelen’s neck. “We’re glad you’re safe, son.”

Caelen’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment as the last of the tension bled out of him. The ache in his chest remained, but it was no longer overwhelming.

“We’re with you,” Marel said. “When we face Solas again, we’ll be there. All of us.”

For a moment, Caelen let himself lean into the warmth of their embrace. He inhaled slowly, hugging them both tighter.

The air still hummed with magic, the remnants of the Fade flickering around them. But he no longer felt lost in it. Not with his parents holding him close, grounding him into the moment.

Whatever came next, he wouldn’t face it alone.

[tevivinter]

i'm feeling so burned out because of work... i'll look more into job openings this weekend because i feel like i'm at my limit tbh

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okay but the hero of veilguard armors are sooo gorgeous, top tier armor design for real

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i just love that moment when eldrin asks "who in their right mind would drink gingerwort tea?" and caelen and davrin glance at each other like "just kidding haha... unless?"

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Hi!! Happy Thedas Weekend <3 For Darya & Zevran, maybe “soothing them back to sleep after a nightmare”?

i decided to mix these two prompts! thanks for sending them <3 here's some pre-relationship zevwarden for @thedasweekend, @lottiesnotebook and @miladydewintcr

Dwarves didn’t dream. Or at least, they weren’t supposed to.

But Darya woke with a strangled gasp, the taste of darkspawn rot clinging to the back of her throat. She bolted forward, cold sweat coating her bare shoulders. The campfire had long since burned to embers, leaving a thin smoke trail in the air. She pressed the heel of her palms to her eyes.

There it was again. The echo of screams, the feel of sinking helplessly into the taint. It hadn’t been real, but her body didn’t seem to care, heart pounding and breath caught in her chest.

Thankfully, the camp was quiet. Alistair’s snoring drifted from the other side of the fire. Further out, Beirus — her mabari — huffed in his sleep, chasing some dream of his own. But the silence didn’t last.

“You’re awake.” A pause, then a shift of fabric. “Another dream?”

Darya stiffened, then let out a slow breath. Of course Zevran was awake too.

“A nightmare,” she corrected dryly. “I’m fine. You should go back to sleep.”

Instead, Zevran sat upright on his bedroll, adjusting to face her. “Ah, but that would be terribly rude of me, no? Letting my favorite Warden suffer in silence while I snore the night away?”

Darya leaned back on her hands, her shoulders tense despite the casual gesture. Her gaze found his, catching the gleam of his eyes in the dark.

“Mind telling me what’s on your mind, then?” she asked. “Or are you planning to talk me into sleep?”

Zevran’s lips curled into a teasing smirk. “Not exactly. I could recite you an Antivan lullaby,” he said smoothly, “but I suspect you’re in need of something else entirely.”

Darya let out an unimpressed huff. “Is this going where I think it is?”

Zevran’s smile softened at the edges. “I promise,” he replied, “it has nothing to do with seduction. This time.”

She tilted her head. “Consider me intrigued.”

His gaze flicked to her shoulders, then returned to her face. “I could give you a massage,” he offered. “To help loosen the tension you've clearly been hoarding. Unless, of course, you’d rather remain as rigid as a statue until morning.”

His words made Darya suddenly aware of the taut pull of her muscles. The nightmare had left her wired as if she’d just stepped off the battlefield. And even if she wouldn’t admit it out loud, Zevran’s massages were... annoyingly effective. Perhaps that was exactly what she needed.

Darya held back a sigh. She shifted on her bedroll, crossing her legs and leaning forward. “Alright,” she muttered. “Since you’re being so generous. Go ahead.”

Without a trace of smugness — at least none she could detect — Zevran moved behind her, settling onto his heels.

His fingers brushed the nape of her neck as he gently swept her hair aside. Then his hands settled on her shoulders, carefully, like someone handling a delicate thing. He didn’t rush, thumbs drawing circles as he seeked out the tension buried deep beneath her skin.

At the first firm press, Darya exhaled through her nose, her eyes fluttering shut.

Each movement seemed to erase the stiffness from her. Her shoulders eased downward, and her head tilted forward slightly, as if pulled by invisible threads.

Darya wasn’t used to this kind of touch. So different from sex, where everything was simply about passion and desire. But this… this felt far more tender than she expected. Almost as if Zevran genuinely cared. A dangerous — if not outright absurd — assumption, especially considering they weren’t involved.

Still, she dropped her gaze, unable to stop the questions flooding her mind.

“…Why are you doing this?” Darya muttered.

Zevran paused for an instant before resuming his work. “Do you mean why am I offering a massage? Or why am I still awake with a Grey Warden who insists she doesn’t need help?”

Darya huffed. “Both.”

He chuckled, the sound warm against the chill air. “Well. The first one is easy — I rather enjoy touching beautiful people.”

His thumbs slowed slightly, though they didn’t stop. “The second…” Zevran hesitated, and she felt it in the subtle shift in his hands. “That one is more complicated.”

Darya arched a brow. “How so?”

Zevran leaned in, voice lowering, as if his words were only meant for her. “Because I understand what it feels like to wake alone in the dark, heart pounding and breath caught in your chest. Perhaps I do not need a reason beyond that.”

The honesty in his tone struck her like an unseen blow. It was enough to leave her speechless for a second. Darya’s gaze fell to her idle hands as Zevran’s fingers slid down her back.

“You make it sound so simple,” she muttered.

Zevran tilted his head. “Is it not?”

“No,” she said flatly. “People hardly help me without expecting something in return.”

Zevran hummed in thought. “Then I must seem highly suspicious to you.”

Darya’s lips twitched. “Well, you’re not exactly the picture of selflessness.”

“Ah, that is true,” he said. “But at least I’m not a liar. Of that, I can assure you.”

Darya couldn’t argue with that.

Zevran’s touch was steady yet gentle, so much that it almost unsettled her. She tried not to think about it, even as her throat tightened and her body slowly melted into a puddle beneath him.

The massage ended sooner than she expected. When Zevran pulled back, the absence of him left her skin suddenly cold. Darya blinked, as if pulled back from a trance, and glanced over her shoulder. For a moment, it felt like something unspoken passed between them.

“…Thank you,” she said at last, the words rough around the edges.

Zevran smiled — not his usual smirk, but something more genuine.

“You’re welcome, my dear,” he murmured. “And should the nightmares return… I’ll be here.”

Darya gave him a small nod before turning away.

This time, she didn’t say ‘that won’t be necessary’. Nor she insisted she could handle it on her own. She simply tucked the blanket over her shoulders and settled back into her bedroll, the weight of exhaustion sinking deep into her bones.

Zevran lay down beside her, keeping a respectful distance. He didn’t speak again, though his presence lingered. A quiet reassurance in the dark.

And as her eyes drifted shut, her heart no longer pounding, Darya found herself surprisingly at peace. There were no more echoes of the Blight to pester her mind — only the fading warmth of Zevran’s touch and the comfort of his words.

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i was messing with my zevwarden kid's design.... i think i'm in love

meet chiara (aeducan) de riva

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struggling to find OC page codes without javascript 😭

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Commissioned sassiilustra on vgen to draw Caelen!! Tysm ❤️

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Happy Friday! For Caelan Mercar and Lucanis, “putting ear over their heart” from the cuddling prompts.

thanks for the prompt! for @dadrunkwriting

Caelen slouched over the couch, one arm draped around Lucanis’s shoulders, his other hand combing lazily through his hair. The room was lit by a few candles, their tiny flames swaying gently in the dark. For a moment, the place almost felt like a secret hideout.

Lucanis had drifted off faster than expected, his ear pressed to Caelen’s chest. Every so often, he shifted, his hold on Caelen’s waist tightening ever so slightly. The gesture pulled a faint smile to Caelen’s lips.

It had been one of those days. Spite tried to escape the Lighthouse again. Which led Caelen to make an offer: sleep, and I’ll keep watch. If he comes, I’ll be here. Lucanis had only nodded before his body gave in, slumber claiming him like a tide pulling him under.

It wasn’t long before Caelen’s fingers stilled.

The shift was subtle, yet noticeable all the same. The way Lucanis’s shoulders tensed beneath his hand. The breath that caught. And then the eyes that blinked open, glowing with violet light.

Caelen let out a slow breath. “There you are,” he murmured, his tone almost amused. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Spite's voice cut through the stillness.

“You were. Waiting. For me.” A statement, born of confusion and frustration both.

Caelen didn’t flinch. His fingers simply resumed their path through Lucanis’s hair, unbothered. “I figured you’d try to escape again.”

“I want. To talk.” Spite demanded.

“Of course you do,” Caelen said, unsurprised. “What about?”

“You.”

Caelen arched a brow at that. “I suppose that can be arranged… on one condition.”

A low snarl rumbled in Lucanis’s throat, though he didn’t move. “Say it.”

Caelen continued, calm and even. “Lucanis needs to rest. If you let him sleep, I’ll answer any questions you have. Simple, isn’t it?”

“Deal.” Spite agreed, shifting slightly to meet Caelen’s eyes. “You smell. Strange.”

Caelen scoffed. “Was that supposed to be a question or an insult?”

“A question.” Spite frowned, studying him. “You smell like… fire. Smoke. And blood . Why?”

Caelen sank further into the couch, adjusting his position until Lucanis was tucked more comfortably against his side. He glanced down at Spite’s purple eyes.

“So you can tell. Interesting.” He paused, intrigued by the discovery. “It’s a long story. The short version? I have draconic blood.”

“How?” Spite asked immediately, tone laced with suspicion.

Caelen held his gaze, lips pressing into a thoughtful line. He hadn’t even told Lucanis about that particular detail yet. And he certainly hadn’t planned to say it aloud for the first time with Spite staring out from his eyes.

Yet here they were.

“I didn’t have a choice. It was… quite similar to what happened between you and Lucanis.” Caelen said quietly.

Spite’s brow furrowed. A flicker of anger rippled across his features— not toward Caelen, but at some unseen figure in the past. “Who. Did. This?”

Caelen huffed softly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were worried about me.”

“Tell me. Who hurt. Rook!” Spite insisted.

Those words shouldn’t have made something in Caelen ache, but they did.

Perhaps Spite was worried after all.

Caelen’s smile wavered, but his voice remained steady. “My master did it. A long time ago, when I was a child. And a slave.” He looked down again, fingers moving absently through Lucanis’s hair as if to distract himself. “It’s in the past now.”

Spite’s shoulders eased, the tension slowly dissipating from him. His eyes seemed to glow brighter as he studied Caelen’s face. “You understand. Us.”

Caelen gave a small nod. “I do.” A pause, then a flicker of curiosity lit his eyes. “Does that mean you’ve always known about my blood?”

“Yes.” The response came without hesitation. “You reeked of danger. From the start. I told Lucanis… to stay away.”

Caelen hummed in thought. “I’ve been told I make a strong first impression. Usually not in a good way.” He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth twitching. “What about now?”

Spite didn’t blink. “We like you.”

Well, he surely didn’t see that one coming.

Caelen’s lips parted for a second, speechless, before he caught himself and the faintest smirk curled his lips. “So I take it you’re not opposed to us cuddling like this.”

“No.” As if to prove his point, Spite nestled his head back on top of Caelen’s chest. “Your heartbeat. Helps him sleep. Makes him feel. Safe.”

Caelen resisted the temptation to dig for more, wondering what else Lucanis enjoyed about him— but that was a conversation for another time. Now, he turned his attention back to the demon nestled against him.

“And may I ask what’s your excuse for clinging to me?” He teased.

Spite inhaled slowly, his embrace tightening in response. “You’re. Warm. And your voice. Sounds. Good.”

Caelen let out a chuckle. “ Took you long enough to give me a compliment.”

Spite glanced up to him. “Are you angry?”

“No,” Caelen said, pressing a tender kiss on top of Lucanis’s temple. “I’ll be happy for as long as you behave.”

Spite half-groaned, half-sighed, a noise that Caelen interpreted as some sort of agreement. “I want. To make. Rook. Happy.”

Caelen brushed his thumb over Lucanis’s cheek. “You’re doing a good job at it.”

A hush settled between them. Lucanis’s breathing remained steady and deep. Caelen held him close, fingers never still for long, occasionally leaning down to press soft kisses to his temple. Each time, Spite seemed to melt a little more, releasing an involuntary sound that — much for Caelen’s amusement — came close to a purr.

Spite clung to Caelen, almost in a protective way, listening to the heartbeat that always seemed to calm Lucanis. He lay still, letting the warmth settle around them. After a while, he noticed Caelen’s breathing become deeper. Heavier. Sleep was finally catching up to him, even as Caelen reluctantly blinked his eyes open each time they threatened to fall shut.

“You should. Sleep. Too.” Spite murmured.

“I promised him I would keep watch.” Caelen muttered, his voice thick with drowsiness.

“I won’t. Escape. This time.”

Caelen gave a half-conscious hum. As much as he meant to stay awake, the exhaustion had been creeping in for hours, turning into a weight he couldn’t ignore. He rested his chin on top of Lucanis’s head, breathing in the familiar scent of him, comforted by the way their limbs were tangled together like an unraveled ball of yarn.

“I’ll trust you to keep your word,” Caelen whispered, barely audible now.

His lashes fluttered shut at last.

And Spite kept his promise.

He remained there, still as a statue, as if the smallest movement could wake Caelen. Lucanis had mentioned he was a light sleeper, once. Something Spite had kept in his mind.

And so he listened to the slowing rhythm of Caelen’s pulse, watching over both of them until the last candle melted into the night.

[tevivinter]

kiss roulette

inspired by the infamous "i want the k" meme by deactivated tumblr user tastcful. send 🎲 to generate a kiss! potential suggestive/nsf.w themes may appear

A kiss on the cheek

A kiss on the nose

A kiss on the forehead

A kiss to the top of the head

A firm kiss

A gentle peck

A romantic kiss

A platonic kiss

A kiss to the eyelid

A kiss along the jawline

A kiss to the neck

A kiss along the collar bone

A kiss on the chest

A kiss to the stomach

A kiss along the hips

A kiss in the rain

An upside-down "Spider-Man" kiss

A kiss while laughing

A kiss underwater

A rough kiss

WILDCARD! Dealer's choice :)

A french kiss/kiss with tongue

A kiss influenced by alcohol/other substances

A sleepy kiss

A kiss that's an accident

A kiss while one or both parties are crying

A kiss in greeting

A kiss in parting

A kiss to the back of the hand

A kiss to the palm of the hand

A kiss to the inner thigh

A kiss while someone watches

A kiss to a scar, birthmark, injury, or other marking

A kiss after a bite

A kiss against a wall

A kiss to the shoulder

A kiss to the back of the neck

A kiss while one party is carried

A tentative kiss

An impulsive kiss

A kiss out of spite

A clumsy kiss

A bloody kiss

[tevivinter]

i need to update my OC pages... does anyone know some nice template resources?

[tevivinter]

I love caelen’s style!

thanks anon, he'd be so smug about this lmao

[tevivinter]

your ocs are always so genuinely interesting it’s clear how much thought you put into backstories and other character relationships!

literally me after reading this thank you!! i spend wayy too much time thinking about my idiots lmao I'm glad you enjoy them 🫶

[tevivinter]

7 album game

Tagged by @serbarris!

ʀᴜʟᴇꜱ: you just got a kind of shitty old car and it doesn't have bluetooth. You can only buy 7 CDs and you can't repeat an artist. What are you getting?

Sleep Token - Even In Arcadia

Bring Me The Horizon - That's The Spirit

My Chemical Romance - The Black Parade

Lady Gaga - Mayhem

Lana Del Rey - Lust For Life

Troye Sivan - Something To Give Each Other

Spiritbox - Tsunami Sea

mixed some of the classics with newer stuff that i've been listening to!

soft tagging @l-llavellans, @maagisterpavus and @himluv

[tevivinter]

Why my OC Sucks

thanks for the tag @maagisterpavus! i love marel dearly and that's precisely why i'm going to diss him *rolls up sleeves*

Marel Lavellan

1. Surly

No wonder Varric nicknamed him 'Grumpy' — he's pretty much frowning 24/7, lmao. He doesn't even bother to hide his What The Fuck Stare whenever he's annoyed at something or someone (which happens a lot during the Inquisition). On top of that, he's a hothead and it doesn't take much to piss him off. Also... anger issues. You get the picture.

Now combine all of that with being a 6'5" warrior, and you’ve got someone who’s very intimidating and borderline unapproachable at first glance.

2. Self-destructive behavior

First of all, he's reckless and impulsive by nature, often throwing himself into peril without blinking. Becoming a Reaver only made this worse because it made him enjoy the frenzy of battle and unconsciously chase all the adrenaline that comes with danger.

Secondly: self-loathing, and I can't stress this enough. When things get tough, Marel spirals fast. He often blames himself when things go wrong, even when it's not his fault. There's an impostor syndrome constantly whispering in the back of his mind, telling him he's not enough. Not to mention he tends to isolate himself when he's feeling down, which only makes things worse.

3. Blunt as fuck

Marel’s bluntness often comes off as rude. He doesn't sugarcoat things and always gets straight to the point. He’s hardly the type to mince words just to be polite or please people. If he’s got something to say, he’ll say it to your face. With absolutely zero fucks given.

tagging @l-llavellans, @serbarris, @megthemariner and @thuviel if anyone feels like doing this!