#fandomn00blr

Hehehee thank yoooouuuu!

(If you’re curious about my WIPs, send me an ask!)

I don’t want to give too much away about this one as I’m planning to write it soon BUT:

Isabela decides to take Anders with her onto the ocean after the she meets him at The Pearl, changing the course of both of their lives forever. No solitary, no Wardens, no Kirkwall. Anders joins Isabela’s ship as her doctor and enthusiastic lover, and he’s never been happier. Everything is going swimmingly until they pick a strange elf from a shipwreck in the middle of the Venefication Sea, 3 weeks sailing off the coast of Rivain. Anders goes to heal the elf using magic, the elf pushes a hand into his chest, and Isabela puts her knife at the elf’s throat. Classic polyamorous meet-cute.

Which fic this year was most fun to write?

Thank you friend! ❤

This was a really hard one and luckily it's been asked more than once so I get to give different answers 👀

So I'm gonna get sappy on this tumblr post. I've had a goddamn year (haven't we all) and honestly would not have made it without some very dear friends.

At the beginning of June my father entered the hospital and was there, and then in hospice, for the entire month. He passed the day before father's day.

I wrote NOTHING in June until @schoute sent me a sexy Avvar armor mod for Varric to make me smile. I saw it, immediately had a thirsty need, and then wrote in almost real time with a whole discord server full of friends my smutty one-shot based on the mod: Spoils of the Avvar.

I've honestly never told them how much it meant to me to have their laughing support, encouragement, and joy while I was writing this silly, sexy smut for my OTP. At my darkest moments in June I honestly sat down a couple of times and felt like I was choking on things I needed to write and couldn't. I think I wanted to write something dark, terrible, and twisted in that moment.

What I needed was a burst of light, which is what this fic provided. It was the first time I'd been happy since and kind of reminded me I was going to be happy and sad in turns and reminded me that I've always had fun writing.

@fandomn00blr​ and @nug-juggler​ tagged me in the last couple of days because they’re both lovely human beings. but i, being a goblin, do not comprehend the linear passage of time anymore. so here, have a tiny sliver of the next part of between the shadow and the soul. thus, you’re all tagged. yes, all of you. that includes you, @swingsdown​, i know you’re out there!

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Merrill sticks her tongue out at him.

This is entirely immature of her, and the Keeper would scold her for it, but it makes her feel very much better.

And it makes Fenris laugh, too.

“You are impossible, witch,” he says, still laughing, low and quiet and somehow—private, not quite at her but not quite with her, either. There’s a difference that Merrill well knows, and this isn’t the unkind sort of laughter. Fenris only shakes his head, still chewing on his amusement.

Sadness slides down her throat, though Merrill couldn’t say why. She leaves the tea on the table to steam thinly.

“I don’t think I am,” Merrill says, around the lump. “Not anymore, anyway?”

Fenris pauses, and he looks at her out of the corner of his eye. The stillness of the morning is broken only by Iseth’s babbling, and it isn’t enough to distract either of them from the odd intensity in his gaze.

“Where would you like it?” The Inquisitor pulled up on Thom’s hair. He winced, rose up as far as he could on his knees to ease the tug at his scalp. 

“Floor’s fine, Boss.” Bull dropped his damp towel at the end of his enormous bed. He knelt on the rug, his knees at either side of Thom’s. “What’s your word, Thom Rainier?”

Thom rolled his eyes, he’d never been able to take it seriously, not out loud. 

Bull gently untangled her fingers from Thom’s hair. He cupped Thom’s chin in one hand. “What’s your word, Thom Rainier?”

“Petit alms,” Thom growled, his bound hands twisted into fists at the small of his back. 

“Good boy.” Bull thumbed his bottom lip with a smile. “How hard you want it tonight, Big Guy?”

Thank you for the ask, @fandomn00blr! It took me a while to come up with something.

11. What is the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to your OC?  Do they still feel ashamed for it? Were there any witnesses?

fanfic asks.

my room is so cold and the blankets are so warm, thank you xD

13. When did you start writing fanfic?

as far as fic goes, at like... 12-ish?? in 7th grade I wrote two whole chapters of a harry potter fic that had ZERO conceivable plot, I just wanted to write about my favorites. and then I didn’t try fic again until like, early high school with a nartuo fic, also unfinished. hasn’t been until like the past year and a half/two years that i’ve actively been writing and actually FINISHING things lmao.

14. How do you feel about your older work?

Because I’m too long-winded for only six sentences. I’ll tag @bitchesofostwick​, @lostinfantasies38​, and anyone else who wants to join!

Thank you for tagging me, @fandomn00blr​! In return for your lovely Morristair snippet, I will share a bit of my own (as yet) unpublished Morristair fic, And Baby Makes ... which takes place during Inquisition when Warden Alistair arrives at Skyhold to discover that Morrigan and his son are there.

Because I couldn’t decide on a short snippet, here’s a big chunk. Alistair enters the war room to an argument in progress.

“— assure you, Commander, that the magic at this temple is far beyond what your meager Templar sensibilities can comprehend.”

“For the last time, I am no longer a Templar, and that is beside the point!” Commander Cullen Rutherford — another old acquaintance from the Blight — gripped the hilt of his sword and drew himself up. “Inquisitor, please, I am merely attempting to express a few of my concerns …”

Alistair found the exchange more amusing than he should have. The more things changed, et cetera. He was reminded of the times he appealed to Cousland in the same way. Morrigan had a way of getting under someone’s skin and attacking their weak spot, all while making herself seem like a completely rational human and her opponent a petty, petulant child.

“It certainly won’t be the last time you tell her, Commander,” Alistair said loudly, announcing his presence to the room. “But don’t worry, it’s nothing personal.”

All eyes turned to him, but he only cared about the beautiful, almost catlike yellow pair that had haunted his dreams for ten years. At one time, they’d softened at the sound of his voice, warmed at his stupid jokes, heated at his clumsy but eager efforts in her tent, and gentled with emotion when he held her close.

Maker’s breath, how was it possible she was even more beautiful than he remembered?

In spite of everything, he grinned at the sight of her, and it was only partly forced.

“I lost count of the number of times I told her they don’t make stupid Templars.” He continued to address Rutherford even as he looked at her. “But she’s always hated the Chantry, and Templars even more, regardless of whether they are no longer a Templar or, in fact, never were one to begin with.” His grin widened, and he couldn’t help a cheeky wink at her. “Fancy meeting you here, Morrigan. Did you miss me?”

She’d gaped at him the entire time he spoke. Then she dropped her gaze for a moment before clearing her throat and summoning her own false smile. (They were alike in that, he’d realized not long after Ostagar. But while his smile was goofy and laughing, hers was seductive and scary.)

“Alistair.” Though it caught slightly on his name, her enticing alto sounded exactly as he remembered. “To what do we owe the honor” — her smirk brought with it that old mischievous, mocking glint in her eyes, and Maker, had he missed it — “of your presence here?”

“Forgive me.” The Inquisitor shot the Commander, of all people, a questioning glance before turning her attention to Morrigan. “I knew you fought together during the Blight, but your acquaintance slipped my mind, and I must not have mentioned him by name. Alistair is the Warden I met in Crestwood.”

Morrigan inhaled sharply and leveled a short glare at Leliana. “Indeed?”

Concern was written across her face, clear as day, and her gaze roamed down his body and back up to his before softening. His chest tightened almost painfully — not only had his memories of the expression remained intact after all this time, but her reaction implied she retained at least some fondness for him in spite of everything.

Then her false smile returned, and she addressed the Inquisitor. “If your illustrious spymaster” — There was the mocking glint again, and Alistair knew for certain she was deeply annoyed with said spymaster for not sharing the knowledge of his identity — “has not, then allow me to persuade you — the Wardens are, without a doubt, on the wrong side of this war. Were your Warden contact any other save one, I would — and, truly, did until this moment — have my doubts. But this one ...”

She once again looked him up and down, and her gaze glittered with a relief he might have doubted if he hadn’t learned to recognize the slightest shift in her emotions.