End of Year Meme

Do you feel your age?

I feel like I’ve been frozen in time for years and I’ve just been thawed out, only to realize how far behind I am.  When people ask me how old I am, I’m always a few years off until I take the time to do the math.  Everyone else my age graduated years before I ever will.  I’m ashamed, tbh.  I’ve wasted so much of my life.  Everyone else seems to get it, but I’ll always be in the dust.  Now the new generation is trampling over me lmao.

Favorite new TV show?

Tuca and Bertie was taken from us far too soon.  I won’t forgive Netflix for this.  I’ve seen a lot of stuff this year, but this show stuck with me the most.

What was one nice thing you did for someone else?

I’ve made so much bread for people this year.  I won’t say it was good bread, but it was bread that I made.  I don’t eat a lot of bread myself, so I’ve been unloading it onto everyone else.

attached: photo of my bread

Did you vote?

Imryll is a gift and so are you. Thank you for creating her and sharing her every day with us!

27. Have you done anything that scared you?

Lots of things! I moved, I went back to school, I’ve given presentations, every time I’ve had to go to the doctor since I moved has been very scary jfdskl even simple things like taking the train to see my gf or going to the airport by myself have been scary. BUT it’s okay doing things that scare you is part of growing up~

39. What was the worst moment of the year?

There were a lot of times when I was trying to get shit together to move that my parents, especially my dad, were like? Pushing back against me every step of the way? It was really hard and I was miserable at the beginning of the year lmao

Crazy how far I’ve come honestly

THANK YOU! I’m sorry this took so, so… so long, but I hope you enjoy it! Varevas and an ensemble cast (Hawke, Solas, Dorian/light pavellan, Varric, Bull, Alistair), leading up to Adamant, ~1150 words, implied character death. For @dadrunkwriting!!

She’s not what he expected. Granted, he didn’t know much about her before this but he certainly didn’t anticipate that the famed Champion of Kirkwall would be a woman who barely cleared his shoulder but shook his hand with more force than Cullen. Her black hair hangs long and free about her like a cape and he can see in the way she moves and carries herself some genetic memory of the nobility her family once was, a history she never lived where she would’ve been the sort of woman to wear a cape.

She remains a wanted woman so he doesn’t get to spend a fraction of the time speaking with her that he’d like to at Skyhold, but every moment of downtime in the building of their forces for the assault on Adamant is spent reading through Varric’s record of their time together in Kirkwall. It makes his selection for his forward party at Adamant astonishingly simple, because he insists Hawke share their camp so he can pick her brain, learn all he can about her magic in the short time he has.

What he learns is that there’s a reason she’s the Champion of Kirkwall. Forces he can’t even see take him from his feet again and again, barely giving him time to get stable enough to cast a retaliation. When he finally calls an end to the spar, she’s there immediately, offering a hand to get him to his feet even as she smirks down at him. “I’m half afraid you’ll help me up just for the joy of sweeping me away again.”

“Not this time, Herald. I can only absorb so many wins in one day, my body’s not used to winning anymore. Try me after breakfast.”

They gather near the fire, or rather most of them do. Bull declares he wants nothing to do with four mages gathered for a chat this close to a fortress full of other mages summoning demons and Alistair is simply absent, but Varric joins them. He brings no paper or quill but Varevas still gets the impression their conversations in front of him are on record. 

He asks Matilde how she learned, where she draws from, how it all works, and Solas and Dorian are just as curious in their ways. She describes it for him: a centering of the mind, nothing as mystic as a vision but also not as external as elemental magic. It is, she says, a tribute to her sister, for whom magic was as natural as breathing. No need for lightning bolts or walls of flame or anything showy. It’s a simple matter of force and control; when you let out that much power, you have to be strong enough to balance against the recoil. Every action has its reaction, after all. 

Solas leans in, comments that while it might seem as though it’s all her mind, it’s actually her connection to the Fade that allows her to do this, but perhaps her methods might be applicable to the work Varevas is now doing to harness the energy of the rifts for his own use. It’s all a cycle that way, after all, but Matilde protests that it’s not and then she and Solas are on their feet, back to the same flattened area of sand Varevas had so recently gotten familiar with. At least Matilde has the decency to be honest in her motives. Solas claims it’s a scholarly exercise but Hawke shakes her head. “I’ve kind of been wanting an excuse to kick your ass, I just didn’t think I’d get one.”

He leans against Dorian’s knee as he watches them. Solas is terrifyingly fast and does manage to get the better of the Champion at points but despite this being her second round of sparring, Hawke is no slouch and more than once, Solas does end up flat on his back. It’s more raw magical combat than he’s even seen in his life; this simply wasn’t done in the clan, mages were too valuable to risk it, and despite his best attempts he remains unwelcome among the recruited mages in their work. Varevas has never been in the desert before, never sat in the sand by a fire with the hand of the man he loved on his shoulder, never seen magic like Matilde’s before, but this moment feels more like home than any part of Skyhold ever has. 

Hawke and Solas only stop when they hear hoofbeats. Alistair, back from wherever he’d gone, informing them their little light show could be seen from a distance and unless they wanted company, it’s best they call it a night. Solas stalks to his tent silently but Matilde winks at him as she crosses the circle of the firelight. “Feels good to be the last man standing twice in one night, and I’m not even a man.” 

In their tent later, he wonders aloud to Dorian if he thinks Hawke might join the Inquisition when all this is done. Dorian chuckles and wonders back if he ought to be jealous. “Not hardly, I greatly prefer the way you put me on my back, but you might be wise to be a little more scared.” He never thought of himself as a part of anything with his magic–if anything, it was isolating–but tonight was a little taste of what the Inquisition could really be, what a world where mages weren’t limited in number or liberty could look like at it’s best.

And then, well. At least one part of that future shows that she has other ideas. He can see her, smirking in a way that doesn’t reach her eyes, but she’s on the far side of a wave of force that’s taken both him and Alistair from their feet. It’s her specialty, after all, but this one is fired with intent. It was clear both the Warden and the Champion intended to offer to make this sacrifice, but with one spell the decision is no longer there for Varevas to make. He probably should’ve seen it coming, taken the hushed conversations between her and Varric more seriously, but it didn’t really matter now. He flew out of the rift, skidding to a stop and lifting his arm to close it without even standing back up. 

Everyone is making Cassandra sad so I am here to single-handedly fix it. 

Ellana is running early for a meeting with Leliana to discuss some intelligence reports in preparation for their next expedition when she hears voices above her.

More specifically, hears Cassandra’s voice.

She had hidden it well in the months since but her rejection that day on the battlements still stung.

But she was content to keep things the way they were if it meant that Cassandra was still in her life. Was one of her closest friends, besides Dorian that is.

She stops halfway up, still out of sight but close enough to hear most of what is being said. Doesn’t want to interrupt the conversation between the old friends. Is curious to know exactly what sort of things two of the most powerful women in Thedas discuss in their downtime.

“Why don’t you tell her? It is doing you no good to keep this to yourself. It isn’t noble to torture yourself in such a way Cassandra. This isn’t one of your books. It’s your own heart, own happiness you are denying yourself,” Leliana’s voice rings out, sounding concerned.

“Ugh I know this is nothing like one of my books - just because - I know Leliana,” Cassandra sighs.

Ellana shuffles nervously, it feels like an invasion of privacy to linger but she is curious. Wants to know who they are talking about. So she can send whoever she is to the furthest reaches of Thedas.

But she isn’t that petty. Would never deny Cassandra her happiness. Even if it meant she didn’t find it with her. Even if it was a she after Cassandra told her that she could never be romantically interested in women.

“It’s not too late you know,”

Ellana barely hears the noise of confusion that Cassandra makes over the cawing on the crows. The ruffling of their feathers.

“She has shown no interest in anyone these past months. Even those that literally throw themselves at her. And I don’t think she will, even for something casual,”

“You can’t know that.” Cassandra sounds small. Unsure of herself.

“No. But I know that she is in love with you.”

“Leliana - don’t,” Cassandra’s tone is enough to warn most people off. But Leliana isn’t most people.

“Why? You love her too no? It is only some foolish sense of duty and propriety, denial of your true feelings that made you say no to her that day.”

Could it be? Surely they weren’t? They couldn’t?

If Ellana didn’t know any better she would have thought that the mystery woman that they were talking about was her.

But it couldn’t be.

Could it?

Ellana can’t linger here. Not anymore. But Cassandra confirms her suspicion before she has a chance to figure out if she should retreat or continue on climbing up the stairs and make her presence known.

“She is the Inquisitor Leliana,” Cassandra sighs “It wouldn’t - “

Ellana can’t stop the gasp of surprise that escapes at Cassandra’s words, cringes at the echo it makes off the stone walls of the narrow staircase, interrupting the conversation above.

“You’re early Ellana,” Leliana’s voice calls out, and Ellana can hear the smirk on her lips. Wouldn’t be surprised if she knew she was there the entire time.

Ellana climbs the last few steps before coming into view of the others.

Cassandra is looking at her with a panicked look on her face, before turning to give Leliana a dark look that sends recruits running.

Leliana just smiles softly as she stands, brushing invisible dirt off the front of her coat.

“I have some things to check on with Josie, and it appears that you two have matters of your own to discuss”

Ellana barely notices Leliana leaving, focused as she is on trying to keep the thoughts that are racing through her mind from showing on her face.

It’s too much to hope for, Cassandra willing to be with her even knowing how she feels about her. How Ellana still feels about her.

“You weren’t meant to hear any of that.” Cassandra manages to say.

Ellana watches as she rises stiffly from the wooden bench she is sitting on before she turns to face her. Hands wringing in a nervous gesture that looks out of place on someone as confident as Cassandra.

“Is it true though?” Ellana says thickly. Her mouth feels clumsy compared to her racing thoughts. To the feeling of tightness in her chest that she has ignored for so long, sharper now with the small morsel of hope she had recently been given.

She loves you in return that small voice in her head clings to. Gives her heart hope.

Ellana watches calmly as Cassandra fidgets.

Watches as she opens and closes her mouth as if testing the words before she speaks them.

Watches as her hands stop moving and a look of calm resolution settles on her face, her posture straightening as she settles whatever internal battle has been going on inside her.

“Yes.”

It’s one word. But it sends her reeling. Gives her hope. Makes her stop thinking for the briefest of moments before the more protective side of her heart stops. Waits for the “but”. For the other shoe to drop.

“Yes, it’s true,” Cassandra speaks again, drawing her from her own thoughts.

Confuses her when she realises how much closer Cassandra is to her.

“I realise now what a fool I had been that day. That as much as I thought I was protecting you I was hurting you far more. In far worse ways than the way that I feared.”

There is a sadness in Cassandra’s voice. In the lines of her beautiful face. Lingering in the depth of her eyes. Eyes that are a colour that Ellana has never been able to make out, but a task that she would go to great lengths to study thoroughly.

Cassandra’s mouth is moving, but Ellana isn’t listening to what she’s saying. Not really. She watches the way the scar on her cheek pulls. The way her tongue darts out nervously to wet her lips. She lets the tone of her voice wash over her. Feels a shiver at the sound of Cassandra’s accent - her voice was one of the things she first found attractive about her after all.

“Shut-up,” Ellana says sharply, snapping out of her thoughts.

“What?”

“Stop talking,” Ellana murmurs, taking a step towards Cassandra, closing the distance between them. Rests her hands on her hips. Squeezes the firm flesh beneath her fingers lightly.

“What are you doing?” Cassandra asks her. Her voice wavers slightly, and Ellana smiles softly as she leans in closer. Gives Cassandra the time - and space - to pull away from her if she wants to. Watches the look in her eye to know if she is welcomed there or not.

Finds that she is, and her heart stutters in one of its beats at the barely contained excitement she feels swelling in her chest.

“✈” and i’ll handwrite the one place I most want to go 

“♥” and i’ll draw you a picture

Have a vodník. :-)

Thank you Veri!!! This took me a really long time, and it’s actually longer than I hoped, but you know… the characters just had so much to say…

The revelries drew to a close, as soldiers returned home to their loved ones and Chantry priests began laying to rest the many who lost their lives in the great battle of Denerim.  It was a sudden and somber switch after the days of cheering and parading. The archdemon was dead, the Blight ended before it really even started. More surprisingly Lucia was still alive… and so was Alistair. The last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden both living to see the charred corpse of the dragon that had lain atop Fort Drakon. She should have been happy, overjoyed, elated!…Right?

She was none of those things. In fact, the staggering wave of nausea and aching chest brought tears of guilt and shame to her eyes. What had they done? What did she agree to? If she and Alistair both survived, it meant that Morrigan was — Lucia shook her head in a vain attempt to will that thought away. She wanted nothing to do with those thoughts.

Still, the thoughts came, knocking the wind from her chest and filling the empty bedroom completely.  It had been empty since they returned from their victory. Alistair could hardly look her in the eyes when he spoke to her, let alone sleep in the same room. Her poor love’s face had been so ashen and anguished that night. He steeled himself in the days to follow, becoming nothing more than sharp edges and empty smiles.

Lucia was flooded with dread and despair she had not experienced since her darkest days at the Circle.  What if they couldn’t overcome this? What if she was never able to forget?  She had been through so many things, but this seemed bigger than any of it.  She stood from her seat at the edge of the bed, staggered by dizziness and tingling limbs, watching as the room closed in around her. Demons whispered at the corners of her consciousness, and she needed to get out. She had to leave.

She hastily collected her things, haphazardly tossing everything into her leather bag, and grabbing her sword and staff as she exited the room. She walked as quickly as she could down the hallway without causing too much of a stir. It was late in the evening and most of the castle’s guests had retired to their rooms, still she did not wish to disturb.

The door to the courtyard could not have been further away, but she finally reached it. The world continued to spiral around her and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to breath. She stopped in an attempt to gather herself before she walked outside, pressing her forehead against the cool, rough wood of the door.

“Going somewhere?” A familiar voice rang out from behind, causing Lucia to jump slightly and her sword and staff fell from her arms with a clatter. She hadn’t seen anyone in the hall, not that she had been paying attention. It was hard to be aware of her surroundings when she was suffocating.