Lavellan is trying to keep the Inquisition running by any means necessary, but with Halamshiral closing in, Josephine has other concerns. Namely, comportment.
Inquisitor/Cullen dancing lessons for all your fluff needs.
That one chapter that every Dragon Age fic author writes about lyrium withdrawal.
Despite taking all day and sai crashing (losing three hours of work), I finally finished this! :’3 Rorie and Dorian, several years after trespasser, do indeed get married~
(via clockwork-mockingbird)
In case anyone wants to suffer about Clan Lavellan, I wrote a chapter for that.
I AM NOT DEAD AND STILL WRITE FIC.
There’s a nice explanation of this in the fic, but here is the new system for posting: Dragon Age on Wednesdays (this fic), Animorphs on Saturdays or Sundays (this series), and various ongoing longer fics replacing one of those two whenever a chapter is finished. Tumblr fic is just going up when it’s done.
i keep thinking about how inconvenient that room above cullen’s office is, though it has potential. like what if the inquisitor just walks in during a meeting. people turn to look at her, and she just silently climbs the ladder up. they eventually turn away after she reaches the top. then they hear something hitting the ground–the inquisitors shirt. then the rest of her clothing piles up on the floor from the upper room. everyone slowly turns to cullen as he looks up, “it’s time for you all to leave.”
(via amusewithaview)
Now I write Dragon Age fic, apparently. For @littlestartopaz, who requested this prompt:
“You know the difference between subjective and objective, right? ‘Some rabbits’ is the former, ‘three rabbits’ is the latter, and much more accurate. So I’m going to need you to be very clear when you say there are ‘a few’ dragons outside.”
Dorian Pavus, formerly of House Pavus in Tevinter and lately of Skyhold, Altus and ex-heir of the Magisterium, had borne witness a number of strange things in his life, the vast majority of which had come to pass in the last six months. These strange things have included, among others, an archdemon, a Qunari with a jovial temper, a Seeker and a Templar working side-by-side with mages, a truly preposterous number of demons all-too-solid for his liking, and whatever the blessed hell that sword-horned terror in the stables was called. And, of course, there was Rhosyn Lavellan, Dalish elf, Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste, and presumptive savior of the world, whom he had personally seen get into fights with no less than seventeen great bears.
Seeing that sort of person walk out of a ravine and immediately turn on her heel, looking distinctly pale under the black ink of her lacework vallasin, was notably strange, even among such a prodigious collection of oddities.
