Dragon Age Dorks

Or, BREAKING NEWS: LOCAL COMMANDER REROUTES NAVEL FLEET TO SECURE TOMATO SUPPLY (this is about a girl)

Summary: The two most powerful people in Skyhold pass notes like teenagers and hide from their own employees.

(If you're wondering why I'm posting this at 2:30am, no you aren't)

Read Chapter 10 of The Skyhold Literary Society on AO3

Ahhh, thank you! Lemme see.

15: favorite weather for writing

Weirdly I don't have a favorite weather for writing. I listen to music for it and it's usually loud enough to drown out the rest of the world. I thinkkk based off my history of writing, I do the most writing over the summer! I don't know if this is the available free-time I have as a teacher is just more plentiful, or if the seasonal depression relinquishes enough for me to focus, or if I just enjoy the warmer weather. Slightly warmer, because I become a bitch if it gets real hot and no writing happens during bitch mode.

23: pick three keywords that describe your writing

Oh, boy! Um lemme think. Introspective, character driven, ummmm. Maybe thoughtful? Maybe grounded? I am not sure actually. I intend for my writing to be character driven and grounded in THEIR perspective, and I can't resist introspection in the sense that I realllly like sitting in their thoughts and their spirals. Something like that LOL correct me if I'm wrong.

“I doubt you’re cheap anymore.”

The whole world lurches. Alistair’s first conscious thought— a muddy question— is whether he’s shipboard during a gale. He’s afraid to confirm it, keeping his eyes welded shut, clinging to sleep for a moment longer.

Unfortunately, he has to take a piss.

He’s met with darkness when he cracks an eye, but knows his rented closet of a room well enough to fumble his way to the chamber pot. He reluctantly throws back the covers, his insides squirming with a truly singular intensity, and shuffles to the exact place the pot is. But the room keeps going.

“Huh.”

Alistair swats an arm out, searching for a wall, a bit of furniture, anything to orient his well-marinated mind. He finds what might be drapes though and gives them a tug, at least enough to let in a beam of searing moonlight. Wincing against it, he squints back into the room.

He’s in someone’s bed chamber, fancier than any room he’s seen in a spell. But a large elaborate vase reminds him of his rather urgent mission. Alistair beelines for it, braces himself against the wall behind it and relieves himself. He hangs there, his guts and brains competing at cartwheels. When he looks up he finds himself leaning against a large mirror.

It’s been a year at least since he’s last seen a decent one and probably for the best. He looks like wyvern shit. Beyond the angry shadows of a battered eye socket, one pupil is blown wide while the other resists, setting his vision askew. His stringy hair could use a wash or three and his beard is a bloody war crime.

Alistair claws together a few wits, enough to take stock of today’s predicament. The bed is mercifully empty. If he had managed to charm some misguided lady he’d like to remember it. At the moment most of the evening is clear as mud, but what he can remember is fairly typical: a scrubby tavern, cheap booze, and traded insults.

He plunks on the edge of the bed to dress himself startled to find his stained clothes neatly folded. He pulls on his breeches and then puzzles over the gaping tear in his tunic. It wouldn’t be the first shirt lost to tavern mischief, but he has precious few and they’re… not here. He balls it up and tosses it over his shoulder.

It can’t be later than four, not with this potent moonlight. When his stomach lurches, he contemplates poking at the back of his throat over that vase, but it rarely accomplishes what he hopes. There’s a hammer and anvil ringing in his ears and his mouth is fresh as a frowzy codpiece. Maybe whoever is hosting him has a bottle of something that’ll take the jagged edge off this hangover.

Lighting the lamp on the bedside table with a few shaky strokes, Alistair then ventures out into the home, shuffling shirtless and shoeless. Halfway to the opposite door the hallway opens into a vaulted mezzanine that overlooks a grand foyer. A dark mass is spread on the floor below and then sends him staggering back against the wall when it yips. Alistair freezes.

A mabari.

(Or, how two people who wrote six weeks of love letters completely forgot how to be in a room together.)

Turns out six weeks of letters are easier than thirty seconds of eye contact. Gear up as our emotionally fluent penpals get one (1) homecoming and immediately set the War Room on fire.

Thankfully the cake-apology supply chain is as robust as the one for the Nevarran tomatoes, and the crow works for whoever brings the most bread.

Strap in, it's another long one. Oh, and the crow has a name now. (I'd die for him.)

Read Chapter 9 on AO3

human inquisitor: im not a criminal

elven inquisitor: im not a criminal

qunari inquisitor: im not a criminal

a bouquet for you!!

AWW thank you for the bouquet :))) a little snippet from an upcoming chapter of my non-inky Trevelyan/Cullen fic, The Light You Still Hold!

Ophelia laughed until she cried. When the odd feeling passed, when the ache subsided, she spoke into the shocked silence: “I would say the Maker has an odd sense of humor to make me the one who saves us. I am one person. To many people, I am less than that. A mage, a woman, a prisoner, even my body--those are all lesser things, no matter what loved ones say the contrary. Would you make me the hero of this story, Sister?” The jab was unintentional, but landed.

send a "🌹" for a snippet!!

by myself and @vitosscaletta

ESSENTIALS

What is their name, and how old are they? Does their name or birthday hold any significance?

What class do they belong to? How did they initially train and learn their skills?

What race do they belong to? What are their opinions on the other races of Thedas?

What is their moral alignment?

What do they specialize in within their class?

Do they have a preferred weapon they always use?

How do they dress in their downtime, while fighting, in formal settings, etc.?

Do they have any notable scars, markings, tattoos, etc.?

LIFE

What region in Thedas were they born in? What was their hometown (and their home itself) like?

What social class were they born into? How did it affect their upbringing?

How many languages do they speak? Do they have any sort of accent?

Describe their family. Who were they close to? Were there any particular childhood friends?

What religion were they born into? Do they still follow it?

Which aspects of the culture they were born into holds the most significance for them?

Did they ever work a normal, everyday job?

What sort of education did they receive?

What do they do with their free time? Do they have any vices?

Have they ever been seriously injured? What was the outcome?

Do they prefer being stealthy or charging head-on?

How efficient are they with things like crafting potions or repairing their own armor?

PARTY

Who does their preferred party consist of?

Which companions (or advisors) are they closest friends with? Who do they respect?

Which companions (or advisors) do they like to spend time with when they’re not travelling?

Are there any companions (or advisors) they don’t get along with? Have any of them ever left the party?

Did they do companion quests? What were the outcomes of those?

Do they have a love interest? How did their relationship start?

How did their relationship progress? If they’re a canon romance option, is their story different from the way the game presents it?

CODEX

How do they feel about Mages and magic, including things like abominations?

How do they feel about Templars and the Circle?

How do they feel about the Grey Wardens?

How do they feel about the Fade, spirits, and demons?

How do they feel about darkspawn?

How do they feel about dragons?

How do they feel about religions that are not their own, like the Chantry or the Qun?

How do they feel about the Deep Roads?

What places in Thedas have they been to? What do they think about places other than their homeland?

Are there any animals they have a particular love or hatred for?

Do they have any interest in folk tales or folk songs?

PROTAGONIST-SPECIFIC QUESTIONS UNDER THE CUT

(Or, how Cullen Rutherford lost a game of Tic-Tac-Toe and his entire mind.)

Ella thinks she's destined for a life of reading about romance instead of experiencing it, and our Commander is over here literally writing her letters to say, "I am going to take your clothes off."

Strap in, it's another long one folks!

Read Chapter 8 on AO3

The Mage Rebellion Summary: Even though Haljra experienced the previous five years of her life, she still couldn't reconcile how she ended up a ranking member of the southern Mage Rebellion.

Author's Note(s): This fic takes place after the events of the Duty. Love. Sacrifice. series. This fic will contain major spoilers for the ending of both the plot as well as Haljra Tabris' relationship(s).

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