grey warden enjoyer

hey y’all! i’m just a gal who’s been in fandom for nigh on 20 years who’s come back to tumblr after a bit of a break. i’m getting back to my creative roots of writing, RPing, and letting the blorbos run amok.

my major brainrot at the moment is dragon age, but don’t be surprised in d&d/ttrpgs, star wars, the locked tomb, or any other number of fandoms pop up!

my asks and messages are open, and please feel free to like this post if we’re mutuals and you would like my discord!

if you would like to be tagged in character games, please like this post!

if you would like to be tagged in my creative works, please like this post!

both tag lists are no obligation, and message me at any time to be removed!

would you like to write with me? or even just chat about our characters and how they would interact? i would like that, too!

all of my OCs are open for RP, ask memes, or even just us yelling back in forth in all caps about how our characters might interact!

i also like to write various canon characters 💖

you can find my dragon age characters ➡️ HERE

official ‘let’s play dolls!’ post ➡️ HERE (you can find some quick-start OC profiles i’ve made, along with what i like to RP about!)

dividers are from @/thecutestgrotto

All around her, there is darkness and there is silence. She is suspended in… not nothingness, but emptiness. She does not feel anything above or below her, feet kicking out for purchase, hands grasping for something that is not there. The emptiness is vast, and extends far beyond her reach. A gentle touch to her cheek— her hair, wet and black as fresh ink, slick and sticking across her eyes, her forehead, down her neck.

From the May Prompts, coffee-to-go for Valentina please 💜

WRITING PROMPTS

taking prompts from here! oh my goodness, i have the perfect scene for this one 🫶 thank you so much!!!

#17. Coffee to go

Valentina Faustina Andaragrazia Castelucci was not a woman who often found herself feeling anything less than confident, secure that whatever ground was under her feet was hers to rule. She had been a piccola regina— little queen— of Salle. The never-ending wealth of her father and the looming power of her mother as guild master for House de Riva meant that she was respected and feared in equal measure from her first breath. And when Giovanna had joined the ranks of the de Rivas, they had become inseparable, and there was nothing little about their queendom, then.

But this was not Salle. This was Antiva City, and she was alone.

Her scars had healed as much as they ever would, and her sightless eye no longer pained her every waking moment. She wielded parchment and quill where once she had held the hilts of swords and daggers, true, but she was still a Crow, and the influence of House de Riva and the family Castelucci would be carefully shepherded by her for as long as she was to remain at this post. She was gaining a name and influence in her own right, and that was always what she had wanted— and what had been expected of her. By any metric, she should be happy.

Instead, she was homesick.

And so, her feet, unfamiliar with the unsteadiness of her hands, the jumbled and broken track of her thoughts, had brought her to the one place in the capital that felt a bit like home.

Cafe Florian was small, occupying the second floor of an equally small bookstore. It didn't have outdoor seating, but it did have a charming veranda that the owner often held in reserve for her, so that she could sip her coffee and watch the people of the city flow by beneath her, like leaves resting atop a stream. But it was not the view that Valentina had come here for, today.

"Signora Castelucci, an honor." The owner, an older woman with a comfortably plump build and impressive amount of silver hair wound into a braid, was behind the counter today. Valentina set down double the amount of andris that Mistress Torres charged, wordlessly.

The woman nodded, and busied herself with making Valentina's usual order. Espresso poured over ice, and sweetened with the perfect touch of almond syrup. The roast was brought in from Salle itself, and Mistress Torres had a steady hand. Her work was as perfect as anything that Valentina had ever had back home.

"To go, today. Please give my regards to the one who takes my window seat." She sat down another andri to cover a drink for the lucky bastard that was going to enjoy her view. Her plan for the evening— to rage, to cry, and to collapse on her bed with the taste of Salle in her mouth— was not fit for the public. No more words were exchanged between them, but the proprietor's gaze was sharp and knowing.

Writing Prompts

taking writing prompts from here! thank you for the excuse to write some more emmrich and dasha 🥰🫶

#10. Farmer's Market

"There are two ways to best get to know a place and it's people, my darling. Their graveyards, and their food."

Dasha found that she had to agree. Graves had never held much fascination for her beyond the ones that were old enough— or remote enough— to plunder without guilt. But after the tour of Nevarra that Emmrich had taken her on, visiting the smallest villages to all the way back to Nevarra City, she found herself readily agreeing with him. The architecture varied wildly from place to place, from age to age. What was a customary flower or decoration at the border towns near Tevinter was considered old fashioned and out of touch nearer to Antiva. The choice in incense, the types of spices and fruits left as remembrances and offerings, even the type of stone used for the markers and mausoleums could differ from one village to the next.

She had learned to see the beauty, the history, the stories being told, by the singular reverence that Nevarra held for the dead.

It was not, however, a cemetery that they found themselves in today.

No, today was for sunshine and one of the many farmer's markets that dotted the streets and docks of Cumberland. The market was bustling with people and bursting with color, Dasha could feel the hum and energy of life all around them. It was in such contrast to the peace and calm of the graves that it made both halves of Nevarra all the sweeter.

These early summer days had the stalls of local farmers and merchants overflowing, and everyone with a coin in their pocket was spoiled for choice. Fruits and vegetables picked that morning were piled high, fish so recently cut from their nets that the sea water was still drying into salt over their rainbow scales.

"Do you think that we could find some—" Dasha was cut short as she turned around to find that Emmrich had already found exactly what she was looking for. His smile was just this side of smug, and it sent her heart tumbling over itself to see him so pleased to know her. The blackberries looked like little pieces of the darkest amethyst, and so ripe that their juices had already begun to stain the thin wicker slats of the punnet they sat in.