Hi I'm Lucky! I'm a writer and an artist, 43 years old, living in New England. I started writing Dragon Age fan fic in January 2023 after decades of original fiction hell where I never finished a damn thing. My main OCs are Rose Trevelyan and Garrett Hawke and I love them very much and ship them very much. In my real life I'm a science teacher and a soft pastelist and a mom of a pair of young turkeys.
Like my writing? I take prompts anytime! Let me know what ship or character and you can send quotes/pics/songs/anything from my prompt lists.
The Long Fic
In the Shattering of Things,
Explicit | Cullen x Trevelyan | Hawke x Treveyan | WC: 500K + (WIP) | DA:I | Epic | Multiship | Slow burn | Fast burn | Complications While Saving the World
New chapters every every 3ish weeks
Lady Rose Trevelyan is in over her head.
Her attendance at the Conclave was only meant to distract her from her failures as a daughter. And then it blew a hole in the world. Marked by an unknown magic, armed with only a few relevant skills, Rose fumbles and fights her way across Thedas with a band of shockingly deadly oddballs dedicated to stopping— well, all of it. As apocalyptic forces conspire to break and remake her, Rose is snared between the tentative devotion of the Inquisition’s stalwart commander and the fierce love of legendary warrior Garrett Hawke, two vastly different men both haunted by hindsight.
Other Longish Fics
Kiss Me Moonstruck
Explicit | Hawke x Trevelyan | WC 50k+ (WIP) | Dragon Age 2 | Fluff and Smut | Fish out of Water
Smashed together in a matchmaking scheme cooked up by their enterprising mothers, Garrett Hawke and Rose Trevelyan are forced to endure one another for a whole week over Satinalia at the Hawke Estate. Rose hears he’s a swashbuckling treasure hunter, as wild as he is handsome and as ill-bred as he is rich. Garrett suspects she’s a brat of an ingenue by the string of rejected marriage proposals behind her. Determined to prove to the other that they could not be less compatible, they quickly find their mothers’ plot might be working better than they thought. (Rose & Hawke POV)
Instead Came Your Arms
Alistair x f!Hawke | E | WC: 43,500 (Complete) | DA2, Act 3 | Second Chances | Assassination Plot | Grief | Hurt/Comfort | Fast Burn | Fereldan Politics | Exiled Alistair | Angst with a Happy Ending | Flangst
In the wake of her mother’s murder and the Qunari invasion of Kirkwall, Flora Hawke is adrift in grief and guilt. When she rescues a hapless drunk and fellow Fereldan from attempted murder in the midst of a street brawl, she’s astonished to learn the man had once pretended to the Fereldan Throne.
Six years exiled from his homeland, freshly installed in Kirkwall in search of work and purpose, Alistair wakes from a rough night in an unexpected predicament: stashed for safekeeping in the home of the Champion of Kirkwall.
Holed up together in Flora’s empty home, the pair work to uncover an assassination plot against the would-be king before it catches up to him. Tangled in parallels and coincidences, still battling their own shadows, Flora and Alistair surrender to the pull between them and find their way back into the light.
Many more below the cut:
One Shots
The Protestations of the Commander's Bed, Mature, WC 1348, Fluff
With her hands on her hips, Rose stares at Cullen's bed, his cursed bloody bed. “We meet again,” she says softly, snorting to herself.
Rose and Cullen attempt to enjoy some personal time. His bed has other ideas. (Rose POV)
Good Old Garbolg, Mature, WC 1462, Fluff
Hawke's heard about all these weird bottles of booze the Inquisitor's been picking up in her travels. He particularly wants to try Garbolg's Backwater Reserve because... well, why wouldn't he? He's Hawke. Besides, any excuse to sneak off to a dark and cramped corner with the flame-haired imp he's hopelessly in love with is a good thing. (Rose POV)
Fractures, Explicit, WC 3660, Smut/Whump/Pain
Cullen has been recovering from severe injuries after a catastrophic encounter with Samson in Emprise du Lion in Inquisitor Rose Treveyan's quarters.
Rose has been nursing her anger and anguish for weeks.
Amid the necessary care and closeness of his convalescence, it all comes spilling out at last. (Rose POV)
Pull Me From the Dark, Mature, WC 2107, Flangst
The Inquisitor arrives in the Western Approach and Hawke's been waiting three infernal weeks to see her again.
There are a couple emotions Hawke hasn't felt in a long time and he's about to experience both of them. (Hawke POV)
Contact, Gen, WC 427, Flangst
Bethany Hawke has lovely dreams of her childhood home where she often looks inside Father's little chest for the curiosities that lie within, memories of the entire family she's lost- Malcolm, Leandra, Carver and Garrett. The Fade is nothing if not surprising. But today she gets a little more of a surprise than she bargains for. (Bethany POV)
Some Kind of Witchcraft, Explicit, WC 2213, Fluff Smut
Inquisitor Rose Trevelyan is away clearing rifts along Sulcher's pass but she leaves plenty of reminders behind for Cullen to find while she's gone... and after she returns! (Cullen POV)
Together Alone, Teen, WC 2608, Angst
A traumatized newly-promoted Knight Captain who only wants to keep the world safe from the terrors of the Fade.
A soft-hearted, sharp-minded mage who spent years evading the law.
Maybe they don’t share the same fears.
But at least they're not alone in being afraid.
Or how two people form an unlikely friendship in the worst possible place and change each other forever. (Cullen & Bethany POVs)
Proper Provocation, Explicit, WC 2250, Fluff Smut
Rose and Cullen renew a war room debate that quickly devolves into a spirited attempt to spank each other which quickly devolves into smut. (Cullen POV)
The Boy Who Talked too Much, Explicit, WC 2373, Fluff Smut
Elissa has been coming to Alistair's tent for a week now for cuddles before anyone else is up. But they'd never kissed. Today is different. Alistair is a nervous nelly and can't seem to stop talking (or thinking for that matter!) (Alistair POV)
Unvarnished, Explicit, WC 3636, SMUT
Clinging undergarments and more proximity than they've ever had sparks an unexpected blaze between Rose Trevelyan and Blackwall and unleashes parts of the impostor Warden he thought he'd long buried... (Blackwall POV)
The Firmness of his Resolve, Explicit, WC 2166, Fluff Smut
In which Cullen just wants to finish some vital work and Inquisitor Theresa Trevelyan has other ideas. How an under the desk act turns into a (very) friendly competition. (Cullen POV)
Love at First Fight, Teen, WC 5,962, Fluff & Action
Years before he became the Hero of Ferelden, Aedan Cousland competes in the Tantervale Grand Tourney melee final against a surprising opponent: fierce, sharp-witted, and unmistakably talented Marie Trevelyan of Ostwick. And he can’t help but feel a little bit smitten when she clobbers him. Lucky for him, there's a banquet afterward.
Long Fic Excerpts and Companion Pieces (spoilers!)
An Inexplicable Pull, Gen, WC 1504
It's only been a week since Rose Trevelyan stumbled out of a rift in the temple ruins above Haven. She may come from a privileged, sheltered background but she's applying herself to her training admirably. There's something willful and impish hiding under that polite veneer. And something else. He can't stop looking her way, trying to puzzle it out. Perhaps he should try talking to her. (Cullen POV)
Into her Hands, Teen, WC 1334, Fluff
Watching the Inquisitor read the book he'd picked for her across the mess tent in camp in Crestwood, Hawke decides to grab the book she'd picked for him and join her. Sitting beside her on the damp ground he feels an awakened sense of possibility. (Hawke POV)
The Commander, the Tevinter and a Bottle of Lightning, Teen, WC 3,325, Fluff
It starts as a professional favor to Inquisitor Rose Trevelyan, taking the Stick in the Mud out, drawing him away from the work he clings to so desperately. But what she doesn't know is that Dorian has positioned himself to be double wingman extraordinaire and Cullen is about to be utterly boiled in the bag. (Cullen POV)
The Gift, Teen, WC 1,249, Angst & Fluff
Waiting to receive word from the Inquisitor from Crestwood, Cullen's feelings wrestle out of his grasp. And Maker why are there so many entrances to his office? Rylen arrives just in time to help his friend sort his thoughts out. (Cullen POV)
Point, Teen, WC 1,224, Action and Angst
Hawke takes on the bandit leader's second in command at Caer Bronach, a shockingly large bruiser before discovering that Inquisitor Rose Trevelyan isn't anywhere in sight. (Hawke POV)
The Coldest and Warmest Dawn, Teen, WC 3419, WIP, Angsty
The attempt on the Breach approaches with agonizing speed.
The amplified magic of three hundred odd mages will channel through Rose Trevelyan and her marked hand.
And in all likelihood, it will claim her life.
Cullen finds this unacceptable.
He recruits a crack team of Dorian, Vivienne and the dangerous Tevinter prisoner in the Chantry's cells to find a way to save her. (Cullen POV)
Bumbling Hearts, Gen, WC 2372, Fluff
Inquisitor Rose Trevelyan is just learning to control the dangerous new feature of the Anchor- discharging accumulating power by opening a rift in Veil- the mark of the rift. She enlists Cullen as back up and as is tradition, much awkwardness ensues. (Rose POV)
Dead Draw, Gen, WC 1574, Angst and Whump
After the catastrophe between him and the Inquisitor earlier in the morning, Cullen expected Dorian's confrontation. He just didn't expect it to arrive so soon. (Cullen POV)
The Map, Teen, WC 1089, Angst and Whump
Rose Trevelyan awakens standing over her desk, quill in hand, a kind of wildly drawn map beneath her. She doesn't know what's happening and she wakes Cullen to help her sort it out. But he doesn't react the way she needs. (Rose POV)
Rumors, Teen, WC 2189, Angst
Returned to Skyhold from Crestwood, Hawke's been dogged the whole way back by rumors about the nature of his relationship with Inquisitor Rose Trevelyan. His old friend Leliana wants to know what his game is. (Hawke POV)
A Sense of Duty, Teen, WC 2220, Angst
As commander of the Inquisition forces, Cullen needs to have a chat about tactics and protocol with his old acquaintance, famed warrior Garrett Hawke after spurious reports come in from Crestwood. The mountain of history between them and the salacious rumors about Hawke and Inquisitor Rose Trevelyan make this conversation more intense than he expected. (Cullen POV)
Thirst, Mature, WC 6450, Angst and Whump
Commander Cullen Rutherford has had a shit few weeks. Headaches, tremors and memories dog him. His romantic hopes have crumbled. His blood feels empty and thin. With so many cares weighing upon him he's been wondering if he's still fit to serve, if he ever was. He should resign, shouldn't he? But perhaps it's not that complicated. Perhaps he's just one bottle of blue away from feeling right after all. (Cullen POV)
In Search of a Wayward Bronto, Teen, WC 6,648, Fluff and Angst
Desperate to find his brother, Garrett Hawke heads to a blight-ruined stretch of Orlais to search for the Wardens with Varric and Alistair. Amid their misadventures and unending banter, Garrett grapples with past failures and the growing love he feels for Inquisitor Rose Trevelyan. (Hawke POV)
Something Wicked This Way Comes, Mature, WC 7,380, Angst & Action
Inquisitor Rose Trevelyan has disappeared in the midst of the ball at the Winter Palace. As her friends and companions search for her, they start to realize that something far worse than they expected is brewing. (Hawke, Cullen, Vivienne, Josephine, Fidencio POVs)
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https://archiveofourown.org/works/85285391/chapters/225224446
Hi everyone! We're back with our twentieth piece for the Dragon Age Big Bang 2026!
Let's give it up for author Lore of Thedas and artist DovesnRoses; they did incredible work! Go check out their efforts over on Archive of Our Own, and we hope y'all enjoy!
Rating:
Mature
Summary:
Six months following the end of the Fifth Blight, Warden-Commander Haljra Tabris is tasked with a new mission — to rid the land of darkspawn. After being summoned by His Majesty to Amaranthine, Haljra embarked on a new adventure; yet, Haljra did not expect to meet a new foe: Nathaniel Howe. As time passed, Haljra realized Nathaniel was never truly her enemy. And in the aftermath of heartbreak and in the midst of battle, Haljra found herself falling for the disgraced noble.
Shout out to my teammate, @dovesnroses, who has been an absolute superstar throughout this event! And, I want to send a huge thank you to @purplejuni for beta reading this submission!
Tag List
@aetherflowers @bibutterflies @carako @dogot @dragonagedorks @opheliatrevelyan @priya-san @theluckywizard @tired-truffle
@tpseudonana
Finally finished an illustration for my Dragon Age 2 Matchmaking Moms AU fic Kiss Me Moonstruck where Garrett Hawke and Rose Trevelyan are fixed up by their enterprising mothers over Satinalia week in early Act 2. This pairs with Chapter 13: Like a Couple Adolescents.
This entire fic sprouted from the one line Leandra Hawke delivers to (male) Hawke (possibly female Hawke too) about wanting to find him a wife after moving into the old Amell Estate.
Please enjoy my blorbos as they suffer a truly obscene influx of oxytocin.
Hawke x Trevelyan | Dragon Age 2 | Matchmaking Mischief | Fluff and Smut | Fish out of Water | Romantic Comedy | Explicit
We'll see what Tumblr does to the colors in this art 😬
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I got this absolutely beautiful commission done for me by @dochollibee on ko-fi! I cannot recommend them enough. The work was done quickly and well, and I LOVE the character added in.
SURPRISE BEYONCÉ DROP! FAILED REUNIONS AND FERAL CORVID LOGISTICS
(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
Tag List
@aetherflowers @bibutterflies @carako @dogot @dragonagedorks
Reblogging with a snippet because I can:
Alistair x f!Hawke | E | WC: 43,500 (Complete) | DA2, Act 3 | Second Chances | Assassination Plot | Grief | Hurt/Comfort | Fast Burn | Fereldan Politics | Exiled Alistair | Angst with a Happy Ending | Flangst
(from Chapter 2: The Bastard)
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.
It’s been five years since he’s seen one. An unfamiliar mabari is a roll of the dice and he’d never quite been a natural with them. They could smell his uncertainty like an open wound, that’s what Ser Perth always told him. And since there was little to do about the uncertainty, he decided to have little to do with the dogs if he could help it. Mercifully, they gave him to the horsemaster.
Alistair slinks to the back of the house, as well as a man this groggy can anyway, searching for a pantry or a kitchen. If they’d put them in that swanky bedchamber, perhaps they wouldn’t begrudge him a snack.
The kitchen is cramped, hearth and larder and an enormous workbench practically piled on top of each other, little space for the elaborate feasts he’d seen prepared at Redcliffe. A window in the back bleeds moonlight and he peers out to see that the room presses up against a courtyard garden overtaken by polearms and practice dummies.
A half-eaten loaf of levain stares him down on the block beside a crock of butter. Nobody would miss stale bread. The stool beneath him is as sure-footed as he is, listing beneath his weight as he butters a hunk and scans the room for a nip of something potent to ease the bucking of his stomach.
“You look like death warmed up.”
If she weren’t so right, she might have startled him. A woman sways in the grip of his lingering intoxication, leaning against the doorframe with a pair of magnificent arms folded, frank gaze surveying him as she sucks on her teeth. Her dark hair hangs in limp curtains over a rumpled nightshift.
Doubt is his first reaction. He should be so lucky. And yet— he did wake up in someone else’s bed in his smalls.
“Forgive me my impertinence, but— who are you?” he asks, gesturing with the pilfered bread.
“Call me Hawke,” she says evenly. “I brought you home last night.”
Alistair nods like he remembers. “Did we—?”
Her doubtful look kicks him in the teeth. A brutal laugh escapes her. “No,” she says. “No, we did not.”
“Did you— want to?” he asks. He curses his impulse when she cocks her head with a pitying lift of her brow.
“Let’s just say I’ve seen better prospects at the pig farm.”
“Wow,” says Alistair. “I mean I know I’m no prize but wow.”
Her bulwark of an expression breaks, an unruly smile disappearing behind her hand as she scratches her nose. “Well. You stink like it anyway.”
Alistair takes a taunting bite of bread. “I can’t rightly argue.”
“Here,” she says, crossing the room to a cupboard and returning with a fiasco of Antivan wine along with a smaller medicinal bottle. She pours a half glass, adds a splash of the smaller bottle and then hands it to him expectantly.
“Hair of the dog,” she says. Alistair raises a brow, wondering what exactly he’s done to deserve such mothering.
“Thanks.” He takes a swig and promptly coughs, wine and whatever monstrosity she added misting the air. He holds the pungent mouthful of ruined wine with a questioning look.
“That’s a curative. Doesn’t go down easy but it works.”
Alistair chokes it back, wincing.
“What’s your name?” she asks, perching on the stool across from him, tearing her own bit of bread. Alistair averts his eyes from the sheer linen of her shift once he realizes how nicely she fills it. Hawke doesn’t seem the least bit concerned.
“I would have assumed you got that yesterday,” he says into his lap.
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I think fanfiction as a medium is different enough from mainstream literature in the tools it offers writers that it's a shame that it's not talked about more often. And it's not me saying "fanfic is better than books xD" because that sort of mindset is a symptom of people who aren't particularly well read in either medium. I'm just speaking of like... The little things you get to do with a fanfic that you genuinely can't really do in an original story.
I had a big fanfic in a previous fandom where one of the big reveals was the involvement of a kind of infamous villain, whose presence was built up to and foreshadowed through the whole fic until his reveal without ever mentioning his name, so that the name drop would be a gut punch. It worked especially well because of who the villain was and his presence in that fandom space specifically (it's very complicated) and if it was an original story this reveal wouldn't work at all the way it was written in the fic. Because if you don't have a predisposition to think about that character and his relationship to the hero in a very specific way, then just seeing their name won't do much to you; the reveal and the recontextualisation it pushes upon you hinges on your previous knowledge of the source material.
I think it's an interesting tool fanfic authors are given. One of my favorite fanfic of all time is partially a re-imagining of its source material's canon, and something it does is introduce antagonists much earlier in the story or deepen npcs' stories. It then works to evoke a tragic irony that again wouldn't work if you didn't know the source material, and it's something the author obviously has a lot of fun with.
You could call it cheap or a crutch and I mean, yeah, sure, it is a little bit: the fanfic relies on previously established emotional bonds and stakes to achieve its goal, and in some cases it saves the author from having to 'properly' build up its stakes. But I think it's INTERESTING that it has that tool at its disposal. I think it's a fun thing to play with and I think these built in expectations and emotional bonds are especially why I find story driven aus in particular to be fascinating in the amount of ways you can play with them. You know??
notably, a lot of those methods and approaches show up in the canon of world literature. because rewriting a known story with your own focus and wording has historically been one of the major modes, especially of narrative poetic traditions.
this is one of the better reasons people say that i.e. shakespeare or paradise lost is fanfic--not just 'original concepts are not necessary for literary value' but 'some of the stuff we do in fic shows up here.'
the narrative structure of the iliad is completely bonkers if you don't approach it with the understanding that everyone was expected to already know the Trojan War story, and probably knew loads of versions even, and this was specifically a tragic dramatization of the emotional journey specifically Achilles went on toward the end of it, leading up to his death.
there's non-Achilles parts, as context and to create a well-rounded narrative and probably to appeal to people who just like Trojan War poems and will be mad if their blorbo doesn't show up at all, but this is the wrath and grief of achilles character study piece.
this is perfectly straightforward if you're used to the dynamics of a fandom space, but fairly hard to parse if you're used to the expectation that a writer is a least pretending to be making up a new story.
people still write books by remaking familiar stories all the time, of course, but since this is regarded as lazy and derivative by default, there's a tendency to change things for the sake of changing them as opposed to in service of the actual demands of the story you're telling, which sometimes introduces weaknesses to the work that really didn't need to be there.
remake and sequel films would be much better on average if the scriptwriters and directors were versed in the conventions of canon-compliant fanfiction.
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