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heniareth · 6 months

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ZevWarden Week 2023

Day 5: Bodies and Minds

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Wordcount: 1,738 | Rating: Teens and Up

Old battle wounds do not only extend to the body. One morning, Zevran wakes up and his Warden is gone.

WARNING FOR:

- not medically accurate dementia

- angst

(Read down below or here on AO3)

Bright light. So bright it hurt her eyes. For a moment, she couldn't see.

But she could hear. And feel.

Somebody next to her. Warm, soft skin, soft hair. Dark lines.

Love.

What was his name?

Love.

That was not his name.

Pain in her left leg when she moved. When had that happened? Tightness in the skin of her face, on the right side, bumps and ridges and grooves. So unlike the left side of her face. Almost up to her eyes. That was bad. When had that happened?

What was his name?

Not knowing was bad.

Not knowing made her nervous.

Slowly, she crept out—bed, she crept out of the bed—and left. She was in a long, high—hallway, she was in a hallway. Walking hurt, in her left leg.

What was his name?

She looked, outside. A bright sliver of something, brighter than the brightest light, was on the earth far away. She had to look away, it was so bright.

She wanted to take a closer look.

What was his name?

Zevran awoke early, as he always did. And this is why he was so surprised to see the bed empty next to him.

His Warden normally did not get up before him, and when she did, she was sleepy enough to wake him in the process. She always told him that 58 was not old, not yet at least—her own father had made it to proud 73 years of age—but surely this heavy sleep was as good a sign as any of his encroaching senilitude, was it not?

Be that as it may, she would return in but a moment. Zevran stretched out long, felt something in his shoulder pop, and curled up under the warm blanket, feeling very much like a cat rolling into a tight ball on a sunlit porch.

And so he lay there, dozing, for quite a while.

And Astala didn't return.

Unease started to creep into his mind. He turned around, saw that the sun was already a hand and a half's width over the horizon, and stood up. It was not like his Warden to be up this early. It was not like her to-

It was not like her to leave her cane in the corner she had left it in the day before.

Zevran retrieved the cane as icy dread slowly trickled into his veins. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. His Warden could not comfortably go anywhere without her cane. What had happened? Where was she?

The house was empty; the garden lay likewise still. It currently was only the two of them. There was nobody who might have seen her leave. There was only one thing to do.

Zevran grabbed his daggers, a waterskin, and a hat. So armed, he set out to find his Warden. She could not have gotten very far. Why had he wasted so much valuable time dozing?

She walked and walked. It took her so long to walk. A crunch at each step, small rolling needles poking up, the bright green, soft, and sharp where it was brown.

She went up. Up to where the bright was getting higher. Up to where the world seemed to end.

She passed by one tall, brown, rough and solid with green on top. She walked around it. For a moment, it was less bright. It smelled strong. It glimmered golden.

What was his name?

She went up, further up.

The air was less bright now. There was wind. And knee-tall not-trees brushing against her. She was going up, up to where she had seen the bright bright sun rise up. The wind blew through her clothes. It was cold.

She reached the edge, where the world ended, and looked down.

There was white there, and blue, and it moved. And it roared. Like it was hungry.

Suddenly, she had to sit down.

Her leg hurt. It went down deep in front of her. Too deep. It was wet now too. Birds cried. The roar was deafening. It sounded almost like-

Like-

Suddenly, panic seized her. She stumbled backwards, away, away from that noise! Heart hammering in her chest, she turned.

When she turned, she saw only endless waving and little white in between dark and round.

Where was she?

What was this?

What was his name?

Zevran looked, left, right, and saw no trace of his wife. If only the Crows had taught him how to track a person in the wilderness! Where to now? He had to find her, before something happened. She had gotten more distant, less present for days at a time, bht he had hoped... he had hoped it would go away again, like it always did every spring once the anniversary of the Archdemon's death passed. Was she conscious of her actions? Where was she?

Left, right, scouring the landscape for any sign of his wife's brightly colored clothing.

Something white and dark caught his eye.

She had not taken her cane. Could she still be in her nightgown? Zevran was already setting in motion before he could answer that question, before he could properly contemplate it. And in that direction lay the cliffs- Sweet Mother of Mercy!

Zevran broke out into a run.

She turned.

What was his name?

She turned.

Where was she?

She saw nothing but wide and bright and nowhere to go, and she didn't know where she wanted to go, and she didn't know anything! What was going on? What was happening? Why was it so loud, why didn't it stop, where was her mama, where was she!?

What was his name?

Whose name?

"Amore!"

She turned to look.

There was somebody. Running. Running towards her!

She stumbled backwards, stumbled. Fell.

Soft and rough and hurtful below her.

What was his name?

He was running towards her. He was not bright. His hair was nice. Yes, she liked his hair.

Should she run?

Maybe she should run.

She should probably run.

Or, maybe, this was the one whose name she was searching for. Why didn't she know his name?

She gasped, suddenly. Something was very very wrong with her.

He was running towards her!

She scrambled to her feet, dashed to the side. The running man missed her by far too little.

"Amore, wait!"

She ran.

He didn't.

Instead, he called after her: "Amore! Amore, please. Stay still for a moment, my Warden!"

Her leg hurt. She stopped and turned towards him.

Slowly, the running man approached her his hair was dancing. It was nice. He didn't look happy, he looked scared. He had a stick in his hand.

Why was he scared?

What was his name?

Was it his name?

"Amore." The running man had reached her and stretched his hand out, but didn't touch her. "Where were you going, my Warden? And not even dressed."

She looked at him. What... what could she?

"My Warden?" He carefully touched her. "Are you alright?"

"Alright," she repeated. "Alright, alright."

But she was not! She was not alright! Something was wrong!

"Alright, alright, alright."

The running man looked down. "It does not seem like that to me, my love."

Love.

"Love."

The running man looked at her again, and he looked better.

"Love," she said again.

It was not his name. But it was good.

"You do remember me." The running man smiled and held his hand out. "Will you come home with me, amore?"

Did she? Would she? Where to?

She wasn't sure.

She looked at the running man, hand outstretched.

"Love?" she asked.

"Yes," he said with a smile.

She took his hand and followed him.

Zevran sat on the edge of the bed, nursing the same drink he had poured himself hours ago, and tried not to cry again.

She had followed him home. So far, so good. She had called him love, but he was no longer sure she recognized him. She was still far away and not present. Her left hip was swollen, and it evidently brought her great pain. When he had tried to alleviate the inflamation, however, or clean the wounds on her feet—how had she made all the way up to the cliff without shoes?—she had fought back, and even bitten him. Right now, she was asleep, but he couldn't leave her unattended even now. He had... he had not known what to do. He was out of his depth.

He needed help.

Perinella would surely come. So would Virel, and Eidela, but he could not rip his children out of the life they had built for themselves for forever. It was a temporary solution at best, and did not even address the real problem.

He wanted his Warden back.

Zevran felt the burn of tears in his eyes, took another sip from his drink, and cursed the Archdemon one more time.

The month Astala had spent lying in bed, not knowing where she was, who she was, and not recognizing anybody, had been one of the worst time in his life. Wynne had tended to her. He had felt completely useles. But there had been slow improvements, and his Warden had gotten better, until she had regained much of her old self. And what she had not regained had soon filled up with new life.

Now, however? This had been the most lost he had ever seen her since then, and he did not know how to bring her back. Or if she even could be brought back.

There was nothing he could do.

Nothing except take things as they came. He had always been good at that, had he not?

The things the Crows could prepare you for. Zevran chuckled to himself without humor and stood up. He had some letters to write. His children needed to know. Who knew what the next days would hold, and the next months. Who knew if Astala would ever‐

"Love?"

Zevran turned immediately. Astala was still lying on their bed, lifting only her head to look for him.

Zevran set down his glass and set out to answer.

"Zevran."

It was truly remarkable how a simple word, how the mere sound of his name on her lips could drive tears into his eyes once again. Zevran said nothing, stepped to her side and made no attempt at hiding his tears. That was his name.

She knew his name.

This story came into my house and beat me to a pulp. Hope you enjoyed

@zevraholics thank you for giving me the opportunity to make myself tear up!!

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transprincecaspian · 11 months

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I mean @demandthedoodles I’ll talk about it even more [twirling my hair]

For anyone curious, we’re referencing this post!

Mahanon’s intensity is probably the driving force of his own narrative! From the second his wedding is ruined, he doesn’t do anything in half-measures. The Grey Wardens, to Mahanon, are the chance to live the life he’s always wanted. The Blight is the one thing that stands in the way of what he wants, so he’ll do what he has to do to stop it—with only one caveat. He won’t give up his own life for it. Or else, what have all his efforts been for?

To quote K.A. Applegate, Mahanon becomes ruthless; all he can see is that bright clear line from beginning to end, and he doesn’t care about anything but the solution. He makes tough calls that the rest of the group REFUSE to make. He kills Connor, he kills the werewolves, he defiles the Ashes. Everything he does is him making a decision that he deems necessary.

What does this have to do with how he feels about Alistair (or any of the others)? Put simply, Mahanon feels, to an extent, that he’s owed their loyalty. They weren’t the ones to make the calls, they shunted the decisions onto him. If they didn’t like what he did, they should’ve done something about it themselves.

Despite his resentments, he does CARE about the people he travels with (in my canon the Blight takes about a year to a year and a half to settle in full). He wouldn’t have stuck with them so long if he didn’t care about them. He falls in love with Morrigan, and in each other they find mutual healing from their pasts. He grows close to Zevran and Shale and Wynne; Leliana is almost an annoying little sister, and Alistair is like the brother he never had.

Mahanon and Alistair were (to quote Lingua Ignota) “brothers in arms / brothers in each others’ arms”. Alistair was one of very few men that Mahanon could trust and even grew to love (platonically, but there was a little homoeroticism in there). But when the Landsmeet came, when all that time had passed, when Mahanon’s ruthlessness had alienated some (such as when he took the Reaver blood, such as his double crossing spirits at Soldier’s Peak and drinking more blood, such as his cutthroat way of handling their foes the closer they get to the end of their quest) Mahanon could ONLY focus on that bright, blinding solution.

He couldn’t see anything else. Sparing Loghain and recruiting him into the Wardens would force a powerful general onto their side! This is a brilliant political move! And Alistair can have his vengeance, Loghain will be their sacrifice to the Archdemon! Everything works out!

Mahanon can only see the solution.

Alistair can only see Mahanon’s betrayal; after everything, after being willing to even kill Morrigan’s mother for her, Mahanon would refuse to do this one simple thing? How could he?!

Mahanon can now only see Alistair’s betrayal of the cause. He’d leave because he can’t get his pound of flesh?! He’s a traitor, too! I could have him executed!

Mahanon still loves him. He rejects Morrigan’s offer (he has to) and refuses to let her bring it up to Alistair or Loghain. Morrigan leaves, and Mahanon is left with only the solution. He finds another. It won’t be him and Alistair at the End of All Things, but it WILL be him. Loghain, in some ways, knows this. The ruthlessness of a brave young man not yet ready to die.

Alistair’s arrival at the last second—his sacrifice, the attempt at reclaiming the responsibilities he abdicated, undermining what Mahanon had to do once he was gone and what he had to prepare himself to do—it’s a final betrayal. It’s selfish. It’s sacrifice. Mahanon rages for weeks. He can’t even yell at his god because Alistair has been wholly consumed; there is nowhere within the Fade that his rage can reach that Alistair would be able to know it.

Mahanon’s final betrayal, his final selfishness, is by abandoning the Wardens immediately once Vigil’s Keep has been arranged for him. He goes to find Morrigan, and leaves Loghain to clean up the mess. Loghain is sent to Orlais; Elyon is brought from Orlais. They cross paths with each other at the border—both older men, both whose families have been lost to ruin, both who have been exiled from their homelands, and both who know their hearts best to the death-march.

May the Dread Wolf take me.

May Andraste light your path.

#hehe :3 #lots of stuff here oopsie daisy #I hope this was a good read I needed to get this out of my system #dragon age #dragon age origins #mahanon tabris #elyon andras #alistair theirin #dragon age origins fanfic #baib #baib meta #Cas meta #text post #my mutuals my beloveds

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thiefbird · 2 years

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Welcome to dadwc friend!!! I would love to see your darling Dirthail telling someone off. Fierce warden vibes all day. 😌

One dose of yelling at Wynne coming up!

@dadrunkwriting

~~~

"You and she are very close, aren't you?" Wynne mentioned as Dirthail approached from Morrigan's fire. Dirth hummed noncommittally, trying to step around her. Wynne caught him by the shoulder and tugged him into her tent.

"Do not ignore me, young man," she scolded. Busybody old biddy.

Dirth sneered at her. "My apologies, Wynne, I didn't see you there, however can I help you?"

Wynne scoffed. "You and the... apostate. You're quite taken with each other."

"And what business is it of yours, how I spend my time?" Dirth all but spat.

"She's hardly discrete," Wynne complained, crossing her arms. "The way she looks at you, it's as though she's completely forgotten there's anything of you above the waist."

Dirthail snorted. "And? Creators take you, do you mean to deny me my fun?"

"Oh, sweet Maker," Wynne said, blessing herself with a gesture. "Is a little decorum from you two too much to ask?"

"Probably more likely to get it from Zevran," Dirth muttered caustically.

Wynne pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. "Moving on. I noticed your... blossoming relationship, and I wanted to ask you where you thought it was going."

Dirth gave her a disbelieving look as she continued. "She is a cunning woman, a maleficar. She will use you for her own ends."

Rolling his eyes, Dirth turned away from her. "Morrigan and I understand each other, which is more than you can say about anyone, I warrant."

Wynne's eyes flashed angrily, and Dirth could feel the tingle of her connection to the Fade flaring. "Do not dare to assume my experiences, young man! I am trying to tell you what I see, what my instincts tell me. Even if your feelings for the witch are genuine, that does not make it good."

"Because she isn't one of your passive Circle mages?! Because she has more of the Fade in her finger than in your entire miserable, spirit-taken form?" Dirth shouted, enraged. Creators, but she was infuriating.. .everything he hated of the shemlen packed into an old woman, that was Wynne.

"Because you are a Grey Warden! You have responsibilities which supersede your personal desires, you impertinent child!" Wynne was seething, Dirth could feel it in the waves of mana flowing from her.

"You are not my Void taken commander, Wynne. You are here under my command. Do not lecture me about my responsibilities!"

Sneering, Wynne turned away. "If talk of your responsibilities bothers you, you are entirely too much of a child to have any sort of intimate relationship," she said snidely.

Dirth stared at her, wide-eyed. "I'm too much of a child? Coming from you, who cannot even find her own supper without a Tranquil slave to fetch it for her? Keep your judgements to yourself, Wynne. I do not wish to hear them." He spun on the spot and stormed from her tent.

How dare she tell him his business? How dare she tell him he was a child when he had survived so much? He whistled for Barkspawn to stay, ignoring his whine of protest, and headed into the woods around camp.

Dirthail walked for half an hour or so, seething, till he found a small stream. Stripping off his armor and clothes, he stepped in, hissing at the cold on his bare legs. It wasn't deep enough for swimming, but he lay down and rested his head on the bank, freezing the anger out.

Wynne was too important to the party. Morrigan only knew a small amount of healing magics, and they couldn't continue burning through healing potions and poultices the way they had before. He would have to apologise for shouting, to keep the peace.

Frustrated with the whole situation. he slammed the back of his head against the rock beneath it a few times, before he was caught by big, warm hands. Alistair gently lowered him down, looking concerned.

"Wynne?"

Dirth scrubbed a palm over his face. "Creators, was I that loud?" he asked, sitting up and shivering.

"I'm not sure if your Creators heard you, but the Maker probably did," Alistair teased. Dirth chuckled.

Alistair helped him out of the stream, wrapping him in a blanket. They settled beside the stream on an old stump, Dirth leaning tiredly against his fellow Warden. "So what was that blowup about?" Alistair asked after a while.

"Apparently a Warden shouldn't do anything other than be miserable." Dirth huffed. "I'm surprised she waited so long to say anything, Creators know she hates Morrigan. Worse than you, even."

Alistair tensed at the mention of Morrigan. "I don't hate her, I'm just... a reasonable amount of concerned she'll turn me into a toad," he said with a forced laugh, pulling away from Dirthail slightly. Dirth sat up, giving him space, but Alistair tugged him back with an arm around his shoulder after a few seconds.

"Well, Wynne does hate her, and she's our best-"

"Our only-"

"Our only healer," Dirth corrected. Morrigan was starting to pick it up from watching Wynne, but the old bat refused to actually teach her. "I'll have to apologise."

Alistair made a sympathetic face. "She... is a lot, sometimes. But I think she means well?"

"Well, she likes you," Dirth groused. "Void take me if she ever finds out I'm technically an apostate, not just fucking one."

Alistair's ears flushed red at Dirth's language, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. He was so easy to embarrass, and so cute when he was flustered; Dirth couldn't help himself.

Eventually, his shivers subsided, and they both headed back to camp. "Thank you for coming after me," Dirth murmured softly as they were petting Barkspawn.

"That's what friends do, right?" Alistair said cheerfully. Dirth tried to ignore the pang that statement sent through him, and grinned up at Alistair. "Still, thank you. You're..." Important to me? Beautiful? "A good friend."

Alistair flushed, ducking his head with a pleased smile. "So are you, Dirth."

#Dirthail Mahariel #dirthail x morrigan #dirthail x alistair #warden x morrigan #warden x alistair #mahariel x alistair #mahariel x morrigan #dadwc #da drunk writing circle #dao #dao fanfic #dragon age origins #dragon age origins fanfic

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gaqalesqua · 4 months

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Poor virginal Lady Cousland is kidnapped by an amoral rogue who has his wicked way with her.

TW: rape roleplay/consensual non-consent

#dragon age: awakening #Zevran Arainai #Female Cousland #fanfiction #Dragon Age Fic #dragon age #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age origins #dragon age origins fanfiction #dragon age origins fic #dragon age origins fanfic #nsft #zevran aranai x female warden #tw: rape roleplay #Merryn Cousland

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alvivaarts · 12 days

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POV you're an Orlesian wandering around Skyhold and you walk into their meeting.

Alternate POV, you're Solas and you definitely weren't invited to the Elf Party

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dragonagebigbang · 3 months

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Schedule

Hello! We're pleased to announce the schedule for the Dragon Age Big Bang 2024!

February 12, 2024 — author sign-ups begin

February 25, 2024 — author sign-ups close at 11:59PM EST (UTC -5)

February 26, 2024 — writing begins! Please don't start writing before this time — that's part of the challenge!

March 15, 2024 — Author snippets due by 11:59PM EDT (UTC -4)

March 18, 2024 — artist sign-ups begin

March 31, 2024 — artist sign-ups close at 11:59PM EDT (UTC -4)

April 3, 2024 — pairings will be sent out

April 10, 2024 — date all artists and authors should have contacted each other

May 10, 2024 — works should be completed

May 13, 2024 — posting begins!

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inquisimer · 5 days

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dragon age character study fic recs

I'm back with another fic rec list, this time focusing on character studies! There were so many more than five that I flagged as interesting 👀 when I was putting this together, so there's definitely a chance that this theme makes a repeat in the future.

Check these awesome fics out! And leave a comment + kudos to let the author know you did💜

Vote in this poll to help me choose a theme for next week's rec list (:

New Tricks by Penknife (@penknife)

Dorian Pavus & Cullen Rutherford, Josephine Montilyet & Cullen Rutherford & Leliana | G | 1968 words | No Archive Warnings Apply Author's Summary: Five times Cullen found that he didn't have to do everything the hard way. Mer's Rec: If you're into Cullen & Dorian friendship, or really any Cullen friendship, this fic will be right up your alley. Penknife does an excellent job of contrasting Dorian as a beleaguered academic (beloved) with Cullen's quieter intelligence. They also highlight Cullen as a strategist and commander, not just the "send the troops" guy, and the advisor interactions resonate with coworker friend energy, which I loved. I always adore fics that explore Cullen's habits and traits leftover from so many years as a Templar and this story seamlessly weaves in those details, which brings a real depth to both Cullen and his interactions.

Names Are Cloaks by EllanaSan

Female Adaar & Josephine Montilyet | G | 2963 words | No Archive Warnings Apply Author's Summary: They can’t have that, she supposes, the Herald of Andraste being called names behind her back… The only way the situation could have been worse is if she had been an elf. She could tell the ambassador that there are people in this very camp disrespecting her at every turn but she is far too used to it to care. They call her oxwoman. They call her witch. They call her chosen or your worship. They call her Tal-Vashoth. Names are weapons. For the bearer to hold and to wield. Names are cloaks. For the bearer to wrap themselves in and discard when outgrown. Mer's Rec: With Bioware's scant lore about Qunari and the Qun, I was impressed by how this story immersed me in Adaar's history. Tidbits from canon interwoven with fascinating-slash-heartbreaking details about the Qun, Vashoth, and Saarebas, plus her introspective musings on the past and her identity make this Adaar stand out from the cookie-cutter protagonist in the best way. I want to know more about her! From Josephine's dialogue and mannerisms to the uncertainty, fear, and alienation the Herald can experience in Haven, everything about this story feels like it could be straight out of the DAI canon.

I have outlived the night by lilith_morgana (@senseandaccountability)

Loghain Mac Tir, Minor/Background Relationships | T | 2106 words | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Author's Summary: He's five, he's eighteen, nineteen, twenty, forty-six, and fifty-five, he's fifty-six, fifty-seven and ready to die. Instead, he lives. Mer's Rec: The emotion in this fic is so palpable, so visceral, and it slaps you in the face the way careful consideration of complicated characters should. With repeated contrasts between Loghain in his youth versus his later years, the author takes us on a journey from hot-headed kid to weary veteran, and it just makes your heart ache😭 It features strong exposition on Loghain's motives, feelings, and regrets during the Fifth Blight, which I love to see since it's fairly absent from the game itself. Their portrayal of Loghain in Inquisition also felt fresh and different, including a conversation with Cullen, which is a dynamic I hadn't considered before and found incredibly interesting to read. And of course it ends on a bittersweet note, as it always does with Loghain.

To Yield Is Not Weak by disasterhawke

Alistair/Anora Mac Tir | M | 4018 words | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Author's Summary: She may not like her new husband, but Anora Theirin is not about to let the world treat him like it has treated her. She will do whatever it takes to earn his trust. This is not quite what he expects. An Anora character study that explores her arranged marriage to her husband's bastard brother. Mer's Rec: this 👏 was 👏 everything I wanted out of an Alistair/Anora fic! While I think antagonism between those two has a place, this fic explored their relationship through the lens of teaching and working together, rather than animosity. It works SO well and there was a definite give-and-take, with Anora running the show immediately post-coronation, but gradually softening her harsher edges and highlighting Alistair's strengths while they grow as rulers. Anora's internal monologue, not only about Alistair, but also Cailan and Loghain, does a fantastic job showing the humanity she usually has to hide, without diminishing her competence in the least.

when the bough breaks by gummies (orphaned)

Morrigan, Flemeth | G | 1124 words | No Archive Warnings Apply Author's Summary: In her hands, the mouse is kept still. The only movement Morrigan feels from it is the beating of its tiny heart. With her eyes closed, it almost seems that she is holding in her hands its heart alone. Tiny, vulnerable, and so stutteringly fast. It must be afraid, Morrigan muses. Something twinges in her chest. Empathy. She cannot help the flare of protectiveness inside her. For now, the mouse is hers. Plucked from the world from whence it came, tucked away and safe. She wonders if this is how Mother feels of her. Mer's Rec: What struck me most about this fic was the author's grasp of character voices. Flemeth is just as cunning and calculating as she comes across in game, but I was beyond impressed by their young!Morrigan. I could see and hear so clearly how Morrigan would get from the childlike hope she has in this story to the harsher, bitter Morrigan we meet in game. I don't even know how they did that, but it was incredible to read, even as this slice of Morrigan's childhood and her abuse at Flemeth's hands was breaking my heart.

Don't forget to get your fic and art recs lined up for tomorrow's Fan Work Friday!

#fic rec #dragon age fanfic #dragon age fanfiction #long post #dragon age inquisition #adaar #cullen rutherford #dragon age origins #loghain mac tir #anora mac tir #alistair theirin #morrigan #dao #dai #dragon age #dragon age fic rec

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greenerteacups · 17 days

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hi GT! thanks again for the great chapter—loved it (as usual).

just wanted to come on here to sing you praises with just how well you write touch/physical affection especially in the most recent chapter’s first half: draco & hermione being v touchy while entering hogsmeade vs. draco’s jealousy with ron + hermione, and how you depicted draco’s reaction to both (i.e., his awareness on just how not-platonic his actions were vs failing to see that ron and hermione might not be also sharing the same thing) and the way his jealousy flares up. it’s starkly real and engaging and you just leave us wanting more.

just wondering: would there be more platon-ish (or more) moments in the realm of Lionheart, since the books were PG?

hope u have a good day!!

Thank you very much! I hope you have a good day, too.

I think of Lionheart right now as a story that rides the line between PG-13 and R (for gore, and I guess also technically for swearing, since there's been more than one "fuck.") Those things will only scale up as the story goes on, to an extent that will soon surpass the books. If the original series can be split up into "children's / young adult" around the lynchpin of Book 4, I think of the volumes of Lionheart as "children's / young adult / new adult." New adult is, naturally, more capacious as a genre than young adult is, and I'm cautiously feeling out my comfort level in the new territory it opens up.

To be completely honest, I'm still making up my mind on how far to push past canon there. I know that explicit scenes are common and welcomed in the D/H fanfic space, to an extent even expected, but the jury is out on how much it will be relevant/necessary/something that I'll enjoy writing. (I'm aware that this is a totally confusing and not helpful answer. Friend, I also wish it was not like this.) Basically, I'm just trying to figure out what the story needs.

I guess the most I can say currently is that I'd definitely be comfortable writing it — I've written it before — and for the rest, I'll play it by ear.

#greenteacup asks #lionheart spoilers #new adult is such a weird and cool genre to me it didn't exist when I was growing up #i see it as a parent genre to the new 'romantasy' species of publication #which is itself like the sentimentalist's answer to pulpy sci-fi #and fantasy has been violently segregated by age bracket in a way almost no other genre has #it's like. everything is either Teeny-Bopper Dragon Wars or fucking game of thrones #or [blatant reskin of a classic fantasy novel that probably started as fanfiction].#like i enjoyed eragon but it did start as LOTR fanfiction. which is why i (LOTR & fanfic enjoyer) enjoyed it!! why be ashamed of that??#if everyone could just drop their pride and admit they like and respect well-written fanfics #we could save the commercial publishing market for really cool new original shit! we wouldn't NEED a million eragons and HP ripoffs!#they deserve to exist! just put them on AO3 where they belong!!

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fuckitwebhaal · 5 months

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I, like @mightymizora , will take a brief moment tooooo plug my own fanfics!

missing the mark (bg3)

Halcyon, the Dark Urge, is a very busy man as the High Primaster of Bhaal's church. Being on time for a meeting with his new ally, Enver Gortash, is a difficult task when everyone seems to be intent on stopping him from doing so. When he finally arrives, he wants to make a reverent display out of his associate.

(8.1k words, nsfw, DD;DNE)

“I haven’t even read it yet but I need you to know I read the tag “fingering the stigmatussy” and Literally Screamed Aloud.”

memento mori (bg3)

Enver Gortash interrupts Adin'hrae--The Dark Urge--during a busy evening to make a request of him. Smut ensues, but it is not loving or warm.

(2k words, nsfw)

“I told you this but I LOVE their fucked up weird little dynamic. I want them to kill each other, I want them to FUCK, I want Gortash to see Adin'hrae in his post-tadpole era and SCREAM at the fact that Adin'hrae forGOT HIM???”

i betray you like a man (bg3)

The Dark Urge -- a tiefling named Gabriel with no memory beyond a bruised ego and a honed instinct to kill.

The Morningstar -- an aasimar named Bedivere whom has been locked away in a monastery for nigh on twenty years.

Bound by inscrutable fate and the deeds of men who play at being gods, they are brought together after a fateful nautiloid crash upon the Sword Coast. From there, it is a race against the clock to uncover the cure for tadpoles that plague their company, and the truth of the bloody past that Gabriel has left trailing behind him. Whispers from dark urges plague his mind, while the earnest pleas of Lathander guide Bedivere's steps. Time and fate are both poised against them.

(8.7k words, ongoing, slowburn)

“You know how I feel about your writing already, but I'm going to say it here too, it's delicious. Your characters, the atmosphere, the immediate feeling of place and person - on top of that handling of the gods? Lathander a familiar mortal shape but not at all mortal. Vere and Gabriel stitched firmly into the tapestry of a far wider plan and suffering for it (as I am, I am hurting). You know I've got my eyes peeled for more, I always do 😌”

say yes to me (bg3)

Minor spoilers for Gale's Act 1 Romance scene. Piety decides that he wants to return the favor, and they decide the best way to do so is to show Gale his feytouched magic.

(1.8k words, fluff, yearning)

“okay it was cute. catch me giggling a little. i think they should probably kiss. stat.”

born again in blood (da:o)

'He looked down at the chalice in his hands; blood, tainted. He looked up at the statue of Andraste that peered down upon them all. He thought of her when she died a martyr. He thought of his mother, lifesblood, the breath she gave for him at birth. He thought of himself, a child, blood-red and slick from between his thighs. He parted his lips and drank deeply.'

A mostly canon-compliant take on the events of Dragon Age: Origins that follows the path of my Tabris warden; how he deals with the weight of responsibility while trying to figure out his own identity in the midst of a crisis. Picks up post-City Elf Origin.

(32.9k words, ongoing, angst)

“The insight into Mahanon’s will to live despite everything - and because of everything - is so engaging and adds so much depth to the story!!”

#teehee #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur’s gate 3 #dragon age #dao #dragon age origins #fanfic #fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #dragon age fanfiction

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