#I’m working on a Morrigan piece

[mother-above]

I'm Not The One For You

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel has been stressed at work and decided to hit the bars with his brothers. He gets so drunk that he may have forgotten what his love looks like

Warnings: fluffy with some spicy implications

WC: 1.1k

*masterlist*

a/n: I've been writing some heavy things and needed a break. I hope yall enjoy this short fluffy piece! xx

The sound of heels clicking on cobblestone joined the myriad of sounds along the Sidra. The city was lively, and all types of music and chatter filled the crisp air in Velaris. As you got closer, the bass at Rita's was getting louder. You, Morrigan, Amren, and the Archeron sisters were glowing from the spa's lavender-scented oil and dressed to the nines. After an afternoon of well-deserved pampering and last-minute shopping, it was time to meet with the boys.

You were wearing a dark blue mini dress, the material sparkled and reflected light with every movement of your body. The black strappy heels matched with your manicure and pedicure.

You were vibrant and ready for the night out with your mate and friends. Work had been tiring, especially when it was your job to organize military exercises with other Courts armies.

Excited to step into the bar, you grinned as the music vibrated all around you. Scanning the dance floor, your grin spreads when you see your blue-siphoned mate absolutely smashed and tearing it up on the dance floor with his brothers and other partygoers. Happy to see him relaxed, you go over to the bar to order yourself a drink before joining Azriel.

Despite being known as the “quiet one,” Azriel loved to dance and party occasionally. Work had been stressful lately, so he let loose and drank to his heart's content. Females and males were coming up to him all night asking to dance with him, but he refused, and if they got insistent, he’d give them the “sorry, you’re lovely but I’m married” speech. Everyone was always respectful and backed away, after all, he was the Shadowsinger.

It wasn’t even late but admittedly, Azriel drank too much, and his wild erratic dancing proved the point. His brothers and family teased him from afar, even Elain was poking fun at the drunken shadowsinger. In the corner of his eye, a female in a short blue sparkly dress approached him. Smelling like lavender, the female slid an arm around his waist and pressed her body against his.

You were about to bop to the beat of the music when Azriel stopped dancing and ripped himself away from you. The movement was so sudden, that the cocktail in your hand splashed droplets on the floor.

“Az? What’s wrong?” you asked wide-eyed.

“S-sorry, I’m taken. I’m just waiting for my wife,” he slurred as he deliberately turned away from you and started dancing again.

Startled, you looked at Cas, Rhys, and the girls and you burst out laughing. You pointed an accusatory finger toward the Illyrians.

“He doesn’t even recognize me! I can’t believe he’s shit-faced this early!” you weren’t mad at the boys, just highly amused.

Tapping Azriel on the shoulder, he turned, and you gave him your most dazzling smile. “I haven’t seen you all day and this is how you greet me? I’ve been wanting to dance with you, love.”

His eyes run down your body appreciatively, his gaze slowing around your thighs, he’s always loved your thighs. You gave him an encouraging nod, but he was still clueless.

Bringing up his left hand, he shows you the golden band around his ring finger. “I told you I’m married, see? She also happens to be my mate.”

You stifled a giggle and stepped closer to him. Surely, he would recognize your scent, right? You grabbed his hand and let your fingers trace the scars, he loved it when you did that.

In complete shock, he snatched his hand away after a few seconds.

“Look, you’re beautiful but I’m not the one for you. I would walk away before my mate gets here. She’s Night Court’s best warrior and I’m afraid she won’t let you get away with you bothering me so much,” said Azriel, his lips pressed into a line.

You started laughing, your handsome mate was so loyal. You can’t believe he would have sic’d you to flirty females. His family, who were listening to the whole thing, was snickering as well. Rhysand pinched his nose highly regretting pre-gaming at the townhouse, at the time it was a great idea.

Azriel squinted at his family when he realized they were laughing at him. “What?!”

Rhysand clapped a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “Brother, you’re so drunk that you don’t even recognize your own mate!”

Azriel’s eyes furrowed as he looked at your beautiful twinkling face, your lips forming into a smirk. Azriel tugged on the bond three times, and after a short beat, you tugged the bond four times. It was something the two of you did, the first person tugged three times and the four tugs meant that the second person loved them more. Clarity burst through his intoxication and when he realized, he tipped his head back in laughter.

Moving closer to you, he pressed his lips onto your temple and murmured an apology against your skin, this was the last time he was going to drink this much. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he placed a hand on your waist and the other on your bum. You turned to place a kiss on his cheek and then his lips.

He squeezed your body, and you pressed your lips on him again. “Why do you smell like lavender? No wonder I didn’t recognize you, I hate lavender!”

“That’s the oil they used on our massage today,” you said. A slower song was playing so you swayed with Azriel. He held you tight as you gazed into his eyes, melting at the sight of the brown and greens melting together.

After a few more hours of partying, it was time for you and Azriel to go home. Smelling of sweat, booze, and lavender oil, the both of you opted to bathe together.

You relaxed and laid on Azriel's chest as he took the loofah and scrubbed your skin. He said he wanted you to smell like yourself again and insisted that the bath water was to be changed for the two of you to properly soak. Now that the suds smelled of your favorite soap, he pulled you against him and he closed his eyes.

“Az?”

“Yes, love?”

“I’m really happy to know that even when you’re shit-faced, you won’t ever cheat on me.”

A growl rumbled in his chest, his hand splayed across your stomach and held you tighter. “Why would I do that when I’ve got the most perfect person in the world in my arms?”

You blushed; he always knew how to make you feel loved. Turning around to straddle him, you bent down to capture his lips. Who were you to question his logic?

#azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff #azriel acotar #azriel fanfiction

[illyrianbitch]

Beneath the Ashes of Our Broken Oaths — Part Three

Pairing: Morrigan's Sister!Reader x Azriel

Summary: After abandoning the refuge of Velaris, you, Morrigan’s twin sister, returned to the forsaken Hewn City fueled by a vision for a better future. Now, your estranged family seeks your help when rumors of rebellion spread at a time of utmost inconvenience. Torn between your anger and a desire to protect the good, you begrudgingly agree and are forced to face memories of a past life and the unsettling presence of Azriel– the first man you ever loved.

Warnings: depictions of physical injuries, alcohol use, mention of drugs, Rhysand being a condescending prick, reader being shady

Word Count: 5.5k

← Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Your nose was broken.

This you were sure of. So was your right leg. And your arm.

Your father was a thorough, thorough man.

There was a nauseating metallic taste in your mouth, a darkening in your vision. You couldn't see much. Eyes too fat, too swollen. Your mouth wasn't any better. Busted, bruised. You couldn't make out the silhouette in front of you--- but you smelled her.

"You shouldn't be here," Evadne said. "Why did you come back?"

You felt her hands on you, tender and soft, examining you, assessing the best way to help. Her hands were warm against your cold skin.

“For you,” you whispered. Your voice is ragged, broken. You weren't sure how you managed to speak. You continued. “I couldn't leave you.”

A heavy sigh. Her arms wrapped around you. A flickering sense of pain spreading throughout your body. You slumped against her.

"That heart of yours will get you killed," she murmured softly.

A cough. Liquid trickled from your lips. The taste of iron flooded your mouth. Blood. You leaned against her, heartbeat in your ears.

“Then I’m already dead.”

“Gods, you look like hell.”

You groaned, slowly lifting yourself up from your sprawled-out position on the worn leather couch. As you blinked away the remnants of sleep, your eyes struggled to adjust to the harsh glow of the day, slowly leaking in through the opened windows— Evadne’s work, you assumed. They were closed last you remembered.

Lifting your hand to shield your eyes, your gaze settled on your best friend who stood over you with her arms crossed over her chest, brows furrowed as she stared down at you.

“Did you sleep on your couch all night?”

Your eyes shuttered as you let your hand fall back down, a deep sense of exhaustion settling heavily upon you. “Maybe,” you said, your voice hoarse. “Yes.”

With a gentle shuffle, Evadne made her way around the piece of furniture, her footsteps muffled against the worn carpet. She tapped lightly at your legs, silently urging you to make room as she settled herself beside you. You complied, maneuvering yourself into an upright position as she took her place at your side.

Her brows furrowed, gaze sweeping over your disheveled appearance. She leaned in, soon pulling away with her nose wrinkled in disgust. "Did you drink a whole damn bar?”

It had only been a few days since Rhysand and Azriel visited you, a few days since you’d practically sold them out to your father. You couldn’t sleep, your mind plagued by visions of your family — of Azriel. At first, you welcomed them, embracing them as a refuge from your normal nightmares. But soon, those new images became worse, more volatile, more painful. You let out a sigh, slowly turning your head to look at Evadne.

“I had no mirthroot left.”

“Y/n.” She widened her eyes. “I just gave you that. It’s supposed to last you weeks.”

“Well, I’ve been under a lot of stress recently,” you retorted. Your tone was sharper than you intended, the stress of your situation festering into a reactionary annoyance. She let out a small sigh and a sense of guilt chewed at you for your flippant response. You deflated.

“I’m sorry,” you said, “I’m just on edge. I don’t mean to snap at you.”

Evadne shook her head gently. There was a moment of silence as she looked you over.

"How do we live in a city of decay and you're still the most depressing thing I've seen today?"

There was a glint of amusement in her dark brown eyes.

“Bite me,” you shot back, managing a weak smile in spite of yourself. The corners of your lips twitched upwards as you looked at her. A second passed. You both let out a small laugh.

Evadne had this effect on you, the ability to make you feel like you were in your body again, like your anger wasn’t consuming you the way you always felt it was. Headstrong, funny, kind… she was all the things you wanted to be – all the things your sister was, once upon a time.

Her smile softened into a smaller, more gentle expression. "Do you wanna talk about it?" she asked, her voice filled with a genuine care that made you want to cry— out of desperation, if anything. Out of a longing to be freed of the worries that now plagued you.

You shook your head. You didn’t have to look in a mirror to see what Evadne was worried about, to know why her eyes kept carefully scanning your face. The impact of everything, the lack of sleep, the stress, the alcohol, the mirthroot, it was all no doubt evident in every line etched into your face, in your sluggish movements.

“It’s all falling apart.”

“No,” she replied. “We planned for some complications.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and empty in the quiet of the room. “Yeah, complications, not my nosy cousin and an even nosier spymaster,” you grumbled bitterly.

Evadne fixed you with a pointed look. “So we’re refusing to even say names now?”

You shot her a glare, annoyance boiling up inside you. The feeling quickly simmered when you met her gaze, patient and unwavering. It had gotten worse recently, your ability to keep your emotions in check. It was all the stress, all of this faith being put in you. It was smothering you. But you couldn’t admit it– after all, you’d brought it on yourself. Eventually, you let out a weary sigh, feeling the fight drain out of you as you slumped against the worn cushions of the couch.

"Fine," you muttered, the resignation evident in your voice. "We didn’t plan for Rhysand and Azriel."

Evadne mirrored you, falling back further into the couch. “Maybe it's time,” she said with a simple shrug.

You frowned, looking at her with knitted brows. “Time for what?”

“To confront that past of yours.”

Your reaction was instant, your body shooting upright, pointed and stiff. You rose from the couch, taking a moment to gather your thoughts.

“No,” you said sternly, turning around to look down at her. There was a deep sense of anger churning in your stomach, a sense of betrayal that had been unearthed from the depths of your being—you didn’t want to dwell on it, didn’t want to go deep diving into the black hole that was your family history.

Evadne didn’t back down, though, blinking slowly. She met your gaze with a calm resolve, eyebrows lifted ever so slightly as if she had anticipated your reaction, as if she viewed it as nothing more than a momentary outburst– a child throwing a tantrum. “Y/n,” she began.

“No,” You said again, your voice firm and resolute. “There's nothing I need to confront," you threw the word back at her emphasizing it with a shake of your head. "Don't treat me like I'm some child."

Evadne let out a heavy sigh, a sense of frustration rolling through her body as her shoulders sagged. She shook her head slightly. "Y/n," she began, "I'm not treating you like some child."

With a fluid motion, she rose from her seat, her movements graceful, purposeful. Meeting your gaze, she continued, "I've never seen you so rattled." She paused for a moment. "And you've dealt with a lot worse than two pretty boys."

You stood there, unmoving, lips pressed together into a thin line, your eyes fixed on the worn floorboards beneath your feet. With a subtle tilt of her head, Evadne attempted to catch your lowered gaze, her own expression still soft, still determined.

"This anger," she began, as you lifted your eyes to meet hers. She furrowed her brows, a flicker of sadness passing through her eyes, she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your anger, it is killing you."

With a small exhale, you shook your head, a tightness in your jaw evident as you clenched your teeth. "No," you asserted, the word resonating with a sense of defiance. "It's fueling me." Your eyes bore into hers.

Evadne didn’t move, didn’t look away. Instead, she simply tilted her head, reaching forward to grab your hands in hers. The crease in her eyebrows deepened. “It is still killing you all the same.”

You stilled, your face falling at her words. She was right. She usually was. You’d spent so long harboring your grudges, holding onto them at night like they were warm bodies, like they were things that could comfort you, fill the holes of the people they used to be. But the grudges only made you bitter, made you angry— and you were the only person that felt that anger. Not them. Never them.

You looked down, your gaze falling to where her hands gently held yours. It was then you caught a glimpse of her arms under the long sleeves of her dress, wrists decorated with a plethora of gold bangles. You tilted your head, taking in the glimmering sheen of the metals. Evadne loved her jewelry— loved her gold. It made her feel like a queen, she had told you once, reminded her of her worth. But she was always very careful about parading such shiny things around. Shiny things were noticed in a city of gloom. Shiny things got you hurt.

You pulled her hands up to eye level, a fast and swift motion that had her letting out a small gasp, your name falling from her lips in protest. You ignored it, fingers pulling up her sleeve, pushing the bangles up her arm.

A surge of icy rage flooded through you, coursing through your veins like a bitter chill. The feeling mingled with a fiery anger that simmered in your stomach, a volatile concoction that left you breathless, left you seeing red. Clenching your jaw tightly, you lifted your gaze to meet Evadne's.

“I’ll kill him.”

She looked at you for a moment, holding your intense gaze. Her eyes then flickered down and she gently pulled her hands away from you. She observed them for a moment, the dark bruises that marred her delicate wrists, stark against the golden hue of her skin. Then, she carefully slid her bracelets to their original position, pulling down her sleeves to cover any evidence of her hurt.

“No,” she said calmly, “But I will, one day. Like we’ve planned.”

"Evadne..."

You looked at her, taking in the beauty of her features, illuminated by the soft glow filtering through the windows. She was beautiful, so beautiful. And she was trapped here, in this city of filth, of ruin. You imagined a different future for her, a future where she lived in a place full of life— a place in the Day Court, perhaps, filled with sunshine and fresh air. A life where she could wear jewelry for the sake of their beauty, where she could be treated like a queen. A life that she deserved. Another wave of rage hit you. Evadne noticed, instantly leaning in to catch your eyesight.

"Y/n, It’s okay," Her voice was calm, collected. She reached out, her hand resting gently on your arm. "You keep your family busy. I’ll stick with the plan."

You nodded your head slowly, taking a deep breath as the fiery storm of rage slowly subsided within you. "Okay, I can do that," you said, "Are you sure?"

You searched Evadne's eyes for any sign of doubt. But all you found was an unwavering resolve, a fierce determination mirrored in her gaze. She smiled, a small laugh escaping her lips. “Yes, I’m sure. We just need to buy time.”

Your fingers trembled slightly as you anxiously ran a hand through your hair, your head still nodding at her words. You made your way across the room to where your liquor collection sat, the bottles gleaming in the light.

“How many do you think we have for tonight?” You asked, throwing the question over your shoulder. You heard her let out a small breath, footsteps following as she walked towards you.

"Not a lot,” she admitted. “Less than half.”

You let out a sigh, the tension in your muscles releasing slightly as you poured yourself a drink. The amber liquid flowed smoothly into the glass.

“They’re scared. Rhysand visiting is enough to unnerve them, but visiting you?”

“I know.” You felt a sense of guilt nag at you, tightening your stomach. You grabbed the crystal class in your hands turning to face Evadne. She glanced at you, then at your glass, and frowned.

“Are you sure you’re okay for tonight?” you asked her, your gaze momentarily falling down to where she held her hands together.

She met your eyes with a flat look. "Of course I am,” she responded. “I always am.”

You wanted to press further, to ask what else her golden dress was concealing, what else he had done to her, but you held your tongue, storing away your anger for when it would be useful, for when it could be power.

There was a thickness in your throat that wouldn’t move. Instead of replying, you lifted your brows at her, pulling your cup to your lips. Evadne moved before you could blink, grabbing the cup from your hands.

“What the hell?” You asked with a pinched expression. She merely stared at you, head tilted, eyes narrowed.

“They need a leader tonight, not a drunk," she asserted, her gaze steady upon you.

You met her eyes with a tightening of your jaw, a subtle crease forming between your brows. "Fine," you muttered, begrudgingly.

Without hesitation, Evadne downed the cup’s contents before placing it back in your hands. "Pull yourself together," she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. You kept her gaze for a moment, and then her eyes were softening, her lips curving upwards, corners of her mouth lifting in a tender yet somber expression.

“They are not worth you falling apart."

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It was dark when you returned home, your cloak hanging heavily on your shoulders. Your limbs protested with every step, heavy and achy, beads of sweat along your brow. Tonight had given you a release, a time to channel all your energy into something useful. But even then, there were too many things to think about, too many new factors to take into account. It exhausted you— your mind had never been so active, so anxious. You let out a defeated sigh as you opened the door.

You paused in the doorway, your heart stiffening at the sight of him, all fatigue momentarily forgotten. You were too caught up in your thoughts, too distracted to notice the other presence in your home, the other scent that filled it.

Rhysand’s gaze fixed expectantly on you, sitting in a chair that faced the entrance of your home. There was an eerily calm sense to him, an unnerving comfort in his body language. If you didn’t know him, if you weren’t aware of your relationship, you could've mistaken him for a man in the comfort of his own home, sitting at his own table.

You looked at him for a moment, taking in his appearance— a picture of regal confidence, a relaxed posture that was still commanding, still poised. He was alone tonight, no figures hidden in darkness, no smooth slithering of shadows. Azriel wasn’t with him. There was a squeeze in your stomach.

"Do you ever knock?" you spat, your voice sharp with irritation as you closed the door behind you with a forceful thud.

He remained unphased by your display of frustration, watching as you moved across the room, settling to lean against the backside of your couch. You crossed your arms, glaring at him.

"I did," he replied, his voice smooth and unruffled. "You weren't home."

With a sharp exhale, you scoffed, the sound laced with annoyance. Every second spent facing him filled you with an itching irritation, an anger that seeped through your skin. Deep in the back of your mind, an aching appeared– a tiny part of you that longed for his company, that craved for some resolution. You shoved it away, breaking it apart into pieces.

"So what? You just let yourself in?"

"Yes," he replied, his tone nonchalant. "I didn't want to wait outside. It's dangerous. You should really find a new place to live."

The condensation in his tone flowed out smoothly, a habit that almost appeared like second nature. His casual demeanor only fueled your irritation, each word he spoke like a taunt– pompous, arrogant, asshole. You tightened your arms together.

"Did you have a reason for coming here, Rhysand?" you snarled, the words punctuated by a simmering rage. There was a clear disdain in your voice, pointed and sharp. "Or do you just find pleasure in being an arrogant prick?"

Rhysand's facade of confidence faltered for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features before he composed himself once more. His shoulders sagged slightly, a movement so small you almost missed it. The air of authority around him diminished— as if he was transitioning from High Lord to something else, something smaller. He blinked, and then he let out a sigh.

"You're right. I'm so-" he began, but then stopped abruptly. You felt a prickling sensation crawl up your spine. There was a brief pause as Rhysand scanned you, his eyes falling from your head to your toes as he took in your appearance– sweat-dampened leathers, a cloak draped haphazardly over your shoulders. Your heart thudded anxiously in your chest. Rhys met your gaze once more, his brows furrowed now– in confusion, curiosity, or suspicion, you couldn’t tell. It unnerved you.

"Where were you?" he asked.

You felt a surge of defensiveness rise within you.

"I wasn't aware I needed to report my extracurricular activities to High Lords who break into homes," you shot back, the words dripping with sarcasm. You took a moment to break away from your outer layer, quickly throwing the cloth on the couch behind you.

Rhysand remained rooted in his seat, his posture stiffening before he eased back into the chair with a sigh. His movements were deliberate, calculated, betraying a sense of resignation beneath his surface. As he spoke, his hand gestured towards you.

"Is this really how it's going to be, Y/n?" he questioned, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation. "We don’t have to be uncivilized."

Your initial shock dissolved into a burst of incredulous laughter, your mouth falling open in disbelief. "You storm into my home uninvited– twice may I add," you emphasized, your voice rising slightly, "and then call me uncivil when I refuse to drop everything for you?"

Rhysand's tone shifted, his eyes narrowing. "Oh, please, Y/n," he said, "I didn't ask you to drop everything. I asked you to hear me out and you wouldn’t even do that."

His audacity cut into you like sharp knives. You almost winced at his tone; so condescending, so arrogant. It was hard to look at him, to attempt to find the boy that you used to know. Rhysand, your cousin Rhysand, would have hated the prick standing in front of you– would have despised his superiority complex. The thought made you sad— but only for a moment. It quickly faded.

"Has being a High Lord truly given you such a lack of class?" you challenged, your voice rising with indignation. You didn’t bother to hide your contempt, didn’t bother to collect yourself. "How dare you think I owe you anything, even the time of day?"

Rhysand met your gaze, violet eyes burning into yours. They were darker now than they were years ago, more fury in them. More broken.

"We are family, Y/n. I would think it's the least you owe me."

You recoiled at his words, a bitterness rising in your throat like bile. You’d spent so many of your days reminding yourself that your family didn’t care, spent so many nights wishing that they did. Here, sitting in front of you, was proof that the former was correct. You were only their 'family' when it was convenient for them— and you hadn't been convenient for centuries.

"There you go, using that word again like it should mean something.”

You were clenching your jaw so hard you could have sworn it was going to break, that a tooth would snap– that you would snap. Rhysand didn’t back down.

"It should," he insisted, his voice steady.

"It doesn't."

Your voice was cold and unyielding, to a point where Rhysand felt a wave of discomfort come over him. His jaw ticked and he let out a deep sigh, his chin falling slightly. There was a clear frustration in his body as he leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table and bringing a hand to his face. His fingers settled under his chin while the other hovered near his lips as he shook his head. A moment passed as you watched him, and then he turned to look at you again, his hand falling flat on the table.

"I don’t understand you, Y/n,” he said, “I just- I don’t understand.”

Because you’ve never made an effort to. The exhaustion on his face, the frustration that you could see– even smell, it made your stomach sink. The anger in your body felt like something else, like sadness, like grief. Maybe Evadne overestimated you, maybe you couldn’t handle being around your family. If being around Rhysand made you this emotional, you didn’t want to think about what it would be like to face all of them, to report to them.

"It shouldn't take you over 500 years to understand that people don't owe you anything," you stated, pushing yourself off the couch. You walked towards the front door of your home, reaching it as you spoke, "Get out of my home."

Rhysand's voice faltered, his expression softening with a touch of desperation. "Wait, Y/n, wait,” he said as he stood up.

There was a tinge of desperation in his voice, something you were sure he didn’t realize was showing. Maybe you recognized it because, once upon a time, you had known him– truly known him. Perhaps it was the lingering effects of that familial bond. Or, maybe, Rhysand was faltering in your presence because for the first time, he wasn’t being feared.

If Rhys was struggling to keep a calm facade, there was something deeply wrong going on — something with you, or something outside of this city. You thought back to his words from before, I'm dealing with a larger threat that has me on the defense. You furrowed your brows, eyes settling on him with a scrutinous gaze.

"Why do you need my help so bad?"

Rhysand hesitated for a moment before responding, his words measured. "I told you. There are rumors about an u—"

"An uprising. Yes, I remember," you interjected, cutting him off.

Rhysand's brows furrowed, his patience wearing thin as he searched your face for any hint of relenting. He found none. “Then why are you asking me?”

You met his gaze head-on. "Because there are always rumors here," you repeated, emphasizing each word with a pointed stare. "And every time, you, and now Feyre, swoop in to quash them with a well-timed visit, a show of power. So forgive me if I find it curious that this time, you're suddenly in need of my assistance."

A flicker of frustration crossed Rhysand's features, his jaw clenching briefly before he regained his composure. "Our methods may have been effective in the past," he conceded, "but this situation requires a more delicate touch."

There was no evidence of regret in his tone, no acknowledgement of the fear-mongering that he used with his people. You weren’t sure why you expected it, why you looked for it. Of course Rhysand wouldn’t show signs of guilt regarding his treatment of Hewn City. Why would he? He didn’t feel guilty, at all.

You raised an eyebrow skeptically. "And what exactly makes this situation so different?"

Rhysand's expression tightened at your insistence, his eyes darting away momentarily before meeting yours once more. "Nothing you have to concern yourself with," he hedged, his tone cautious.

There it was again, the sense of audacity he held, the superiority he wore like a cloak. There was something in his tone, in the way he spoke to you, that made you feel small, foolish. You hated it.

You narrowed your eyes, a sense of frustration bubbling within you. "If I'm going to stick my neck out for you, and potentially betray my people, I need to know why.”

Rhysand's discomfort flashed across his features. His lips parted, emitting a breathy laugh tinged with disbelief. "Your people," he repeated, a hint of mockery lacing his tone, as if the very idea amused him.

"Yes. My people.”

Rhysand's jaw tightened visibly. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he relented. "Koschei.”

You blinked.

Koschei, Koschei.

You recognized the name, memories of childhood tales flooding your mind. Koschei was a name thrown around, starring in stories whispered by mothers to keep their children in line, to warn them of the consequences of misbehaving. But you knew better– all adults did. Koschei wasn’t a real threat, he was somewhere far, somewhere unreachable.

However, the look on Rhysand's face told a different story—a story of genuine fear, of a threat far more tangible than mere folklore. The mighty High Lord of the Night Court was worried, on edge. It filled you with a sense of dread that momentarily wiped away any sadness, any anger. "Koschei?" you repeated, the name feeling heavy on your tongue

"He is taking steps to free himself," Rhysand said, "I'm working to ensure that doesn't happen."

You eyed him cautiously, scanning him for any sign of deceit. You found none. He took your silence as an invitation to keep talking, to explain further.

"That means I do not have time to sift around this city and find the origins of these rumors– to waste time discerning if they are legitimate.”

You paused for a moment, your mind racing now. Perhaps this was a stroke of luck. Koschei's looming threat could align perfectly with what you needed. You needed Rhysand distracted, needed him vulnerable enough for your father— needed your father to be vulnerable enough for you. Surely, Koschei wouldn’t be a lingering threat. Rhysand was right, it wasn’t something you needed to concern yourself with. Keep them busy, Evadne had said.

"Isn't this Azriel's specialty?" you asked, "The feared Spymaster?"

A tick in Rhysand’s jaw.

"Azriel's reach is limited," he explained. "These rumors may be quiet, but they are there."

He needed someone who wouldn’t call attention. Someone who knew how to work this city. Someone like you.

”Where is your guard dog, anyway?”

The words slipped out of your mouth before you had a chance to catch them. Rhysand stiffened at the question. He bit down the anger that formed in his throat.

”I thought it would be best to come alone.” He shifted on his feet. "In truth, my intentions were to come and offer an apology," he confessed, his voice carrying a weight you hadn't anticipated. Meeting his gaze, you found a flicker of vulnerability in the violet of his eyes, a softening in his features.

You weren’t sure if you should feel angry or touched. It certainly seemed like Rhysand expected the latter, his brows slightly furrowed, awaiting your response. But, instead, your reaction was disbelief, almost scoffing at his attempt at reconciliation. His intrusion into your home, his condescending demeanor, all of it burned into your skin. "Certainly didn't feel like one," you remarked, a bitterness lacing your words.

"I know,” he admitted, pushing his hands into his pockets. “I shouldn’t have approached the situation in the manner that I did. I apologize.”

His voice was genuine, filled with remorse— its presence was fainter that you would have hoped for, but it was there. Noticeable. While you appreciated the gesture, and your heart held onto the regret he showed, you said nothing in response, not wanting to give him the clear forgiveness he was hoping for.

“So, I’m coming to you again, properly. We need your help.” A pause. “I need your help.”

You sighed, running your tongue along your teeth. "Fine,” you relented, “What do I have to do?"

Rhysand visibly relaxed, a wave of relief washing over him. Then, he straightened his posture, dusting off his shoulders before he began walking towards you, towards the door. "Azriel will come to you. You both can work from there.”

The name made your stomach drop, and your eyes widened in response, brows furrowing.

"Azriel?"

Rhysand paused mid-stride, his gaze locking with yours. "Yes," he said, his eyebrows raising ever so slightly. "You said it yourself, this is his territory."

The crease between your brows deepened as you frowned.

"And you said he was unable to work with it. That's why you need me.”

Rhys narrowed his eyes, scanning over your face before letting out a small breath.

"We do need you,” he replied, “To work alongside Azriel."

Your stomach clenched further. To work alongside Azriel. Azriel, Azriel, Azriel.

“You didn’t say anything about working with Azriel.”

Rhysands eyebrows fell as he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Will that be a problem?”

Anger simmered beneath your skin. Rhysand's insistence on involving Azriel was a direct affront to your capabilities, a direct showing of distrust. You knew, logically, that you weren’t allowed to be so angry– he shouldn’t trust you. But the reality of it, a clear reminder of how far you’d drifted, hurt in a way you couldn’t ignore.

“Yes,” you responded, your voice firm, “I don’t need someone watching over me.”

He let out a deep sigh, his face scrunching in with annoyance.

“That is not wha-”

“Oh, please,” you replied, “It’s definitely part of it. You don’t trust me.”

Rhysand didn’t reply, didn’t even acknowledge your words. Instead he simply shrugged. The nonchalance of his movement only added fuel to the fire, and you clenched your jaw to suppress the rising frustration.

"Azriel is our court’s Spymaster. He knows what needs to be done," he stated dismissively.

A surge of frustration rose within you. The room felt stifling, suffocating. You could keep them busy, could work with Rhysand distracted, with him worried about Koschei. But having Azriel around, a looming presence, someone overseeing you, would make things more complicated. And it was Azriel. Even the thought of it made you feel sick, nausea forming from the mix of emotions in your chest.

Silence enveloped the room like a heavy fog. You remained still– jaw clenched, eyes still on Rhysand as he walked past you, hand reaching for the door. He stopped, falling still in his place. Then, he looked at you. The expression on his face wasn’t one you were familiar with– it seemed like one he used to wear when you knew him, a softer version of himself. Kind.

"I'm sorry about Caladan.”

It hit you like a punch to the gut. You weren’t sure what hit you harder, the apology, laced with a deep sincerity you hadn’t expected, or Caladan’s name– on Rhys’ lips, of all people. You hadn’t heard his name in so long; Evadne was always so careful. It was a pain you thought you had grown accustomed to, buried beneath layers of duty and obligation. But it was resurfacing, rising with a raw intensity that left your chest tight.

For a fleeting moment, you felt the urge to lash out, to reject Rhysand’s words and the sympathy they carried. But beneath the anger and resentment, there was a small flicker of something else— of gratitude. With a heavy heart, you met Rhysand's gaze. You couldn't move, couldn't speak.

"I meant to give you my condolences when I first came." Rhysand’s voice was soft. “I know he was special to you. I should have reached out when I heard."

Green eyes. “This is good, Y/n,” he smiled at you, a dimpled, soft smile. “It’s all coming together.”

You blinked the image away. After a beat of silence, you nodded slowly. "Thank you," you murmured. The anger was still there, the bitterness towards Rhysand, towards your family. But you accepted his words, letting them ease some of the sizzling resentment.

Rhysand bowed his head in acknowledgment. With one final glance, he turned and left.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

a/n: guys i promise after this azzy will be in every chapter. now we begin the angsty forced proximity trope that i LOVEEE 🫶🏻🫶🏻

(i’m prewriting chapters rn so lemme know if there’s anything you’d love to see👀👀 always open to ideas)

taglist:

@kalulakunundrum  @janebirkln @thelov3lybookworm @secretlyhers @nightcourt-daydreaming @sidthedollface2 @gorlillaglue25 @abysshaven @historygeekqueen @acourtofbatboydreams @justdreamstars @darling006 @inloveallthetime @dr4g0ngirl @makeagoodnamethen @kht1998  @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @rhysandorian @llovelydove @minnieoo @cassianswh0reeee @anuttellaa @hnyclover @sfhsgrad-blog @carlandonorri-s @gingerblood @inesven @emptyporsche @itsswritten @tele86

#azriel #azriel fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel angst #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotarfandom #beneath the ashes of our broken oaths #baobo #about baobo

[kaija-rayne-author]

Ugh I can’t not theorize. I’ve been at it non stop. Once a story catches my interest my brain just going into hyper speed trying to figure out how the writers (if they do a good job) will bring all of their themes, hints, etc to fruition. All I’m missing is a cork board, pins, and miles of red string.

What’s super exciting this time is I’m actually dealing with a property where the writers are….good? I’m so used to being disappointed when fan theories (often my own) turn out to be much better than the canon, but I don’t see that happening here. Weekes is clearly a masterful writer and knows how to build up to a satisfying twist.

Because you just know another twist is coming. Solas, despite everything, is just too soft hearted to make a convincing final boss. It couldn’t be more obvious that being The Dreadwolf and putting aside his own conscience takes every ounce of energy he has. Eventually he’ll have his breaking point and that’s when we’ll find out who our true villain is.

It’s Mythal. I’ll eat my damn hat if it isn’t. She’s either not the person Solas remembers, or maybe she never was. In either case, there’s been plenty of clues both in DAI and in subsequent materials (specifically Tevinter Knights) to imply that there’s something else going on here.

We keep seeing imagery of the Dreadwolf as a mutant abomination that is part wolf and part dragon. It’s easy to point to the end credit scene of DAI and say “well yeah he fused with Mythal who is a dragon” and sure it looked that way…but is that actually what happened?

We saw Flemeth part with some form of magical energy before Solas arrived. We also know that she’d taken the soul of Uthemiel from Kieran. Uthemiel happens to be a dragon, or was until he was tainted and became an Archdemon.

Archdemons can control Darkspawn. And taking a Darkspawn army past the Veil to enact vengeance upon the Evanuris sees like something Flemeth would do. But that doesn’t seem like something Solas would want. His agenda has always been to fix his past mistakes and tear down the Veil for the greater good. He doesn’t seem that fond of Darkspawn, in fact he was pretty pissed at the Wardens for screwing around with them.

Where I’m going with this, is I think it’s entirely possible Solas is being used. He may have unwittingly fused himself with an Archdemon, assuming it was the essence of Mythal. The real plan, now that plan A failed, might be turning him into an Archdemon so Flemeth/Mythal can use him to start another blight and wield the darkspawn. Corypheus managed to mind control an Archdemon, so clearly it can be done.

And if that’s the case, then ooooooh boy.

Poor Solas.

OMG. I missed this one and I'm so glad I finally found it!

What a fascinating idea. Holy shitballs.

Okay, so I just restarted DAO, I'll be on the lookout through these playthroughs (I'm doing DA2 next, then probably DAI again, because I'm an utter sucker for lore) for hints about all that!

I thought the whole point of the dark ritual w/Morrigan was to purify Urthemiel's 'soul' through being born as an innocent child. But what if that didn't work?

But then, wouldn't Kieran have shown signs of taint? Hmmm. Maybe not, given it's just the soul?

I'm still not convinced that Flemythal parted with any kind of energy in that scene. BUT if she did... well, she's pulled the whole 'soul piece recovery schtick' before. So if it was energy or a soul, it could've been hers. Leaving just Urthemiel. Which would very possibly warp Solas into a dragon/wolf thing. And Mythal is very used to Solas going along with what she wants. So it feels like something she wouldn't think twice about. She uses Morrigan too, and Kieran, so it’s definitely something she's used to doing.

I have a strong feeling Solas is indeed being used. And has been since he was 'born' from the fade. There's a lot of hints to his resignation, nay, even belief that it's right that Mythal used him. (This is... common, in abuse survivors, FWIW.)

But I believe it's canon that his forehead scar came from when he burnt off Mythal's Vallaslin? I have to see if I can find that again. I can't remember where I read it.

I think Mythal will be rather unpleasantly surprised in the spine Solas has developed since her 'murder'. He doesn't seem at all likely to me to be all 'hey! My enslaver is back! Let me just get my slave brands again'. Now, if he were still truly alone, he might just cave into it because man, does Solas have some pretty massive Mythal issues. Not sure if he regards her as his mom or something else or a mix of things, urk.

BUT he's not actually truly alone anymore is he? No matter how hard he tries to be. A Romanced Lavellan can tell him "Var lath vir suledin" which translates sorta, into "Our - love - way/path - endure/strength to withstand loss."

So he knows he's not alone. That inky will absolutely go to the mat for him. He has actual friends, too. He said Bull has him, if you don't betray Bull w/the Chargers. Solas doesn't strike me as someone to say that lightly.

So, he also knows he has friends, too.

I think, if Mythal actually is the big bad (kinda hoping for this tbh) she's gonna have a rather rude awakening when it comes to Solas. Who, from all I can tell, has always willingly served her whims. Because she was 'the best of them' doesn't mean she was actually good.

I talked about how he's heavily neurodivergent coded before, and we're generally loyal to a fault, which Solas very much shows.

But we do also often, eventually, reach a 'no more' point. After which, we'll absolutely close all those doors we'd previously left open.

If Solas acts the way I suspect he might, he'd then use everything he knows about Mythal and the Evanuris to help the game protag (I still wish I could just carry my inky over) defeat the buggers.

But what would it take for him to finally reach that point with Mythal? Mommy issues are soooo hard to deal with in therapy because it's so damned easy to backslide.

Hurting Inky? Doing something that will destroy the fade (like marching a darkspawn army into it)? Making him betray all of his followers who truly believe in him and his goals of freeing enslaved elves?

Solas deeply believes that slavery is wrong. In a way that makes me think he was actually enslaved at one point. Obviously to Mythal.

Oh, fuck me. What an amazing story they could tell about the whole 'but there were good slave owners' bullshit nonsense some people like to spout.

Of course, I still really wish Bioware would tell a story with a disabled protag. Which the end of Inquisition really would set up nicely. But given their shit disability rep, I know not to hold my breath over that.

#dragon age series #dragon age #solas #dragon age inquisition #solavellan #inquisitor lavellan #solas dai #dragon age dreadwolf #dragon age theories #mythal #Flemythal

[incorrectnevermoor]

The Blogs Of Morrigan Crow:

(Or, blogs I stalk from time to time because they give me serotonin.)

@nevermoorcentral because their quotes are really creative! Fandom elder for sure, love this blog and all the mods, their commentary on the books is also super interesting, and they’re usually up to date with whatever’s going on within the fandom.

@okay-hamlet because that’s my friend right there! Super funny, incredibly creative, does art (check out their Jack/Homer piece, it’s excellent.) 100/10

@thisblogdoesnotexisg HEADCANONS!!! I have no idea how their brain works, but I admire it and I wish I had that much creativity or brain power.

@christineenjoysbooks I just really enjoy this blog, not exclusively nevermoor content, but great taste. I respect you, friend, I see your game.

@wundrousarts LITERALLY A PILLAR OF THE FANDOM. Like. Woah. Buddy, we’ve never actually talked, but I respect you and your content so much, you do so much for this fandom and you love the books SO much.

@tillywunderwing I love this person’s writing, and the content they share, they have such a bright kind of energy! I hope it was a good year for you bestie.

Honorable mention to everyone in the nevermoor discord server, I’m not too active on there because talking to people is SCARY, but you all seem so cool and funny, I hope I don’t make yall uncomfortable whenever I do pipe up lol.

#I WISH I COULD FOLLOW YOU GUYS BUT THIS IS A SECOND BLOG AND I’M TOO OLD TO KNOW HOW TO DO THAT #you get this because I’m in a happy mood #I’m sure I’m forgetting people I’m sorry!! #keep up the good work everyone mwah #not a quote #nevermoor #wundersmith #hollowpox

[greypetrel]

Distance.

Ages ago, @salsedine sent me not one but 2 prompts from this Florence prompt list. You can find the first one here for some mutual F!Mahariel/Morrigan pining, but the second one...

Big God is one of those songs I really like and always need to listen to… twice or thrice in a row. I wanted to do it good and catch the feeling and I felt like I always was going out of theme. I wrote this prompt. And re-wrote it. And re-wrote it again. Settled on an idea. Wrote it twice. Re-read it and be angry at it.

I was considering changing the character (in my mind it's an Aisling song, but MH), or making it crack, but then I read Florence talking about it, describing this song as a “obviously, an unfillable hole in the soul, but mainly about someone not replying to my text"...

… And I realize I already wrote it in one of my ten thousand iteration.

So here you go it’s angsty. Post Trespasser. AND it’s epistolary, because I wanted to try it. Maybe I’ll post the bigger version on AO3, it’s Aisling’s pov and it got discarded because it was getting LONG even for my standards. That needs an ending and some more editing, tho, so here you go in the meanwhile.

37. The best of the best and the worst of the worst CW: Mental illness, PTSD, Depression

Sometimes I think it's getting better And then it gets much worse Is it just part of the process? Jesus Christ, it hurts Big God – Florence + The Machine

Skyhold, August 27, 9:44 Dragon

Aisling,

Just writing to check in that you got there all right. Stupid of me, since you left but… What, few hours ago?

I hope you can forgive me for organizing all this. I swear it’s not to send you away, it’s not because I don’t want you, but I don’t think staying here was doing you any good. Three days in a bed are too many, my love, I hope you can forgive me for worrying.

I am already missing you, before you can think of anything else. If you need, please know that I’m but a letter away. Ask, and I’ll come running.

All my love, Cullen

---

Skyhold August 29, 9:44 Dragon

Hello, love.

I’m told you arrived all right and you settled in Stone-Bear Hold, and I wanted to give you a welcome myself.

Don’t take these as any pressure to reply. Take your time, I am here waiting until you’re ready.

Pet Storvacker for me as well, would you?

All my love, Cullen

---

Skyhold, August 31, 9:44 Dragon

My love,

Nothing much happened, don’t worry. It’s all bureaucracy and I’m quite bored.

I must say that you were right, your room is indeed dauntingly big - I’m rolling my eyes at your smug grin, right now. I left all the pieces of my armour on the floor, one beside the other, to fill it a little and to recreate some mess. You can laugh. Since you’re gone it’s all too tidy, and I miss you.

All my love, Cullen

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 3, 9:44 Dragon

My love,

I missed yesterday, sorry about that.

I’m fine, it was just a busy day. Before you ask: yes, I’m eating regularly and I’m fine.

I think Dennet is a little bored, without you and Little Brother around. I caught him snorting grumpily at a horse that obeyed to him right away, the other day. I hope Little Brother is well, I am sure I don’t have to tell you to give him an apple from me.

Or should I? I got told you didn’t go to the stables onc  Nevermind that, you surely know better.

Love, Cullen

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 5, 9:44 Dragon

Is it already a week since I last saw your face? It seems a lot more.

I slept in my old loft tonight, it’s less big and daunty and I had a lot of work. It feels void anyway, without you, and whatever company there is at lunch can’t hold a candle to you, even if I appreciate it. See? I’m also eating with other people, like you’d want. It’s not really the same without you, but I’m holding on. And struggling to make these letters longer, as you’d want too.

Without you making shenanigans with Dorian and Sera, it’s all too quiet, and there’s really little to report.

Beside that I miss you.

All my love, Cullen

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 7, 9:44 Dragon

Aisling,

I hate to speak about work, particularly right now. But this bears importance to mention:

If you’re approached by Sapphira, please turn her away. She came up with a plan and… We turned her down already, Cassandra is dealing with it. Do not worry at all, but if she comes to you, please be wary, I doubt she is your friend. I doubt she was ever our friend.

I hate to write this letter with such things. My plan was for you to forget about work for a while and figure things out, and look at me. You really married the wrong person not to talk about work, I fear.

I am sorry, love. I hope you’re doing better and are more rested. I hope you can get out of bed in the morning with no problems.

If you are and you do, then missing you so much is fine.

I love you, Cullen

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 8, 9:44 Dragon

Love,

I’m making up for yesterday’s letter with a better one.

I managed to convince Cabot to give me the recipe of his scones, and to let me try it with his supervision.

I did some turns in the kitchen back when I was training, and well. I’m no baker in any way, but they didn’t turn out so bad for a first trial. I think you’d like them. And it was pleasant to do. By the time I’ll see you again I hope I’ll be better.

Maybe after I’ll learn these I’ll ask the cook to teach me to make custard, what about it?

I hope you are eating enough.

I do miss you, a lot. Cullen

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 11, 9:44 Dragon

Aisling.

I understand you aren’t well. I understand you need time and space, all too well.

This is in no way meant as a criticism or to withdraw anything I ever professed for you. I still love you, I still want you, I have no intention of leaving you, ever if you’ll let me stay.

It’s just been a difficult night and I fear that-

I don’t know what to think of your lack of answer and it’s terror-

I’d need for you to write back, just to

Please-

Never mind that.

I wish you answered to me. Just once. Tell me you’re fine, tell me anything, really.

Please.

I shouldn’t send this.

I do love you, I do, and I wished you were fine and you were here.

C

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 12, 9:44 Dragon

Aisling,

Never mind the letter from yesterday.

I’m sorry I sent it, I shouldn’t dump that on you right now.

The love still stands. I’m better now. Could use a full night sleep, but this bed is just so damn big. I complained to Josephine and she laughed because apparently you told her the same thing.

She told me to say hi, maybe you’ll read this before her letters? Well. We all miss you.

Love, C.

---

Stone-Bear Hold, Kingsway 13, 9:44 Dragon

Cullen,

I am so sorry-   Please, if you-   If you can bear to forgive-

I’m sorry, I really am that you’re not well and facing it alone. Before you can tell me so: no, I don’t mind listening. Please, tell me more. I hope you are really better, and it’s not something you wrote to make me feel better. Don’t lie just to spare my feelings, please, I’m better knowing.

I know you’re strong and you’ll make it through, you did so many times before and you’ll do it one more time, I trust you. Just, take it easy, please. You made the right choice and it’s good to pursue this path, even if it’s difficult and it hurts and thirsty.

You can do it. You already did it. More than once. I have not many things to believe into, right now, but I do believe in you.

I am fine.

Since when you started seeing that as a lie? I do wonder if it was exactly when you started complaining about it, or if you realised sooner. Comes to mind I never asked you.

I am surviving, I can’t say anything more than this, I am afraid.

It’s… I am so sorry. I have forced myself to read your letters just today, in truth.

Physically I am fine. I am not in pain, the wound closed well and the Healer is happy with it, says that beside the scars I have nothing to fear anymore. My balance is still off, but I trip and bump less and less. Nonetheless…

I am given things to do. I help the Augur and Sigrid Gulsdotten in their activities, and it’s good and honest work. The morning is for people, helping them out, preparing rites, picking herbs when we finish them. The afternoons the children come for lessons, and I’m more another student than a help, but the Augur doesn’t seem to mind much, and I quite like listening to the lore. I can’t but wonder if the Lady of the Sky was also a not going there.

After that is when time stops. I don’t know what to do, honestly. I lived so much out of roles and paths pre-traced for me that now that I’m out of them all I find myself in the void. Do I like the things I do because I had to, because of habit, or because I sincerely do? When I am left with nothing left to do, I don’t know anymore. I don’t know what I like and I don’t know who I am.

That’s why I haven’t replied before. It’s like… I think back of the person I was, and it doesn’t feel like I’m her anymore. I am terrorized at the idea that I’ll open those letters and they’ll all be addressed to a person that’s not me anymore. I can’t take it, right now. Thank you for having written, and thank you for not having written to her.

I miss you so much.

I miss you most at lunches: no one here can hold a candle against you, too. I miss our conversations and your friendship.

I miss you in the afternoons, because all that comes to mind is that I could curl in the corner of the couch in your office. Complain because it’s always full of boxes of reports and there’s no space. And just watch you work.

I miss you at nights the most. Sigrid is a good hugger, but she’s not you, she hasn’t your smell and she cuts the hugs always short.

Tonight I missed you so much that… Ida Sigridsdotten and Annike Majasdotten married, today. I put up a dress and smiled and helped the rites as I was asked to. But when it was over, and people started walking to the Hall for the banquet I missed you so much, I couldn’t ignore the memories. It was so unbearable that I fell back and decided to open one of your letters. Just one, I thought, I need to know who you were talking to.

It was so brief -not that I expected anything else, I know you. So I opened another. And another.

I couldn’t avoid answering your last letter, I hope you don’t mind if this is so long. It compensates for all those days of silence, I hope.

I really hope it does.

Is it ok for me to conclude this with expressing love? I am not sure who I am anymore, I don’t know what I like, but I do know that I love you. Reading your letters was a breath of fresh air. Ironical no? I get so much of it, these days.

Write to me again, if you wish.

With all the love I can muster, from exactly where I don’t know but it’s there, Aisling.

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 14, 9:44 Dragon

Love.

Another calm day, full of bureaucracy.

I do hate dealing with money and calculating. You’d laugh at me and tell me it’s simple maths and do everything in five minutes.

Sometimes I still look up from my desk and expect you napping on the couch. I don’t think it did you so well, and I’m glad you’re out there doing better things, and I won’t lie: it made me feel observed. But now that you’re away, I do miss that too.

Maker, I miss your mess. Frida went through all your drawers, now they’re unbearably organized.

I do wonder: are you reading?

C.

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 15, 9:44 Dragon

My love,

You would be happy in knowing I just made a fool of myself.

Your letter came, and I just took it and ran away without realizing, leaving apparently Josephine and a trio of Comtes who lent us money and were discussing of reparations standing in the Great Hall, mid speech.

If I don’t answer anymore, Josie came for my head.

Now, with order.

I am afraid you never were much of a liar, my love. I realised you weren’t fine as you told it the first time in Haven, you have always worn your heart on your sleeve. Honestly? I liked that in you from the start. I only hope this new you still has it, it was endearing and soothing. But if you don’t feel like that anymore, it’s fine anyway. But please, don’t lie to me. No need for it.

I wish you were here too, but I don’t think you’d like being here. For the rest, I’m fine. Really. It was just a bad night. I’m better now that I heard from you.

As for the rest, I can think of a couple of things you like: magic and animals. You love horses. Maker knows you worried me so and busied Josie enough to make you presentable again after the stables to like horses out of duty. What about it?

Answer, if you’d like. I understand if you don’t. I’ll keep the love with gladness.

All my love, Cullen

---

Stone-Bear Hold, Kingsway 17, 9:44 Dragon

Cullen,

Please don’t let Josie reach you. Or if she did, hello Josie, can I have his cape back to remember him by?

Thank you, love   Cull   my love. It all brought a smile, and it was something I needed. That was a lovely long letter, please keep it up, I appreciated it so much.

I don’t want to see horses. My balance is still off when I’m walking and I would hurt myself on a horse, for real. And I don’t think I could   And I would hate to see you smug with a “I told you so”.

But yeah, I guess so. I pet Storvacker whenever she comes around, and it’s nice, she’s very beautiful and such a good creature. I think she remembers I saved her, but maybe it’s just wishful thinking. How’s Bran? Is he keeping you good company, did he learn to duck and not fetch?

The children hijacked the lesson, today, when the topic fell on Hakkon Wintersbreath. We went overtime because the kept asking me about the dragons I slayed, if it was true. Someone out there had spread the rumour I dealt with the three in the Emprise all at once? I had to struggle to convince them it didn’t happen like that, and they were even more disappointed than when I told them that slaying dragons is just a sad thing to do and I hated doing it.

Oh, there’s one thing I hate. Does it count?

I do love you, and I miss you a little less now that I’m writing back. Thank you for being so patient with me. I do love you, a lot. You’re one thing I really like.

Are you feeling better? For real.

Say that I’m sorry   hello to the others from me.

A.

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 19, 9:44 Dragon

My love,

It does count, and I think it goes into the liking animals box. Anything else? I remember you were quite fond of swimming, if I recall correctly our first visit to Honnleath and our last one in Wycome. What about it? If you can catch a sunny day, the water should still be warm enough to bathe.

And sweets. Do they have something sweet to eat? Should I ship down there your candy stash?

Bran is fine, and is keeping me good company, thanks. He misses you too, but I’ve been fairly successful in teaching him not to sleep where you should be on the bed. Now he sleeps at my feet and I have to curl up. He still fetches, but we’re working on that too.

I am feeling better, I swear. For real, I took it easier in the last days and delegated some.

I firmly believe you wouldn’t fall if you tried to ride. I saw you. Maybe don’t start with a gallop, ease yourself in? I am sorry if I insist, but please, don’t let fear stop you. You love riding and you love that horse. And I’m sure he misses you too. And I’m not saying that to pressure you, but because you always light up when you talk about horses and about Little Brother, and I’m sure he misses you too. But it’s ok, ignore this paragraph if it bothers you, you surely know best what’s good for you.

Everyone says hello. There are various recommendations of hugs, and get well soon and missing you and a choir of “Horns up” from the Chargers and Dorian.

I second the missing, and the horns up too.

C.

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 25, 9:44 Dragon

Aisling,

I am sorry if I told you something wrong.

Please, ignore the last letter.

Little Brother is well taken care of, safe as can be, and I recommend to give him extra apples and extra cuddles. Do not worry about him, love, and please forgive me if I insisted.

If I see another Comte pretending we borrowed money from him without papers to demonstrate it I swear I’m throwing them down the battlements. Bran growling at him had been a nice addition to the group. Josie too gave him a biscuit for his good job.

I happily announce you that I have a recipe for custard and a successful attempt to my record. It was good, I’m waiting for the first lemons to try it properly and try to make it as you like it.

I do miss you, love, and I worry. Forgive me if I said the wrong thing.

I do love you even if you’ll never ride again. Cullen

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 28, 9:44 Dragon

Aisling.

You know what?

Fuck the Comtes.

Josie and Cassandra can hold their own for a while.

Wait for me.

C.

---

Stone-Bear Hold, Kingsway 28, 9:44 Dragon

Cullen.

I’m sorry. Again. I really am.

I was angry at first. And hurt. The thought of not riding again… I have been scraped clean of so much, that the idea of realizing that I had given away that too was unbearable, even in theory. You were right in insisting, because yes. I do love horses not out of duty.

Spirits, or whatever power there is in this world, how many weeks of waking up before the dawn I did back in Haven, because I didn’t want a mount out of duty and out of a choice made for me, but I wanted that horse? With you, it’s the one thing I don’t want to give up on, and you reminded me I had to.

But you were right. – I miss your smug smile, now, I would so much love to be able to kiss it away.

After two days of being angry, I decided to go to camp out of spite.

I hate how people there can’t talk to me and the pity there. I should thank you for organizing my stay with the Avvar, it was… It was what I needed.

Anyway.

Little Brother was, indeed, angry. I can’t hardly blame him. I know how he’s feeling.

I stood there in the paddock, as in the first days. He ignored me for hours. And then he approached me. Bumped me to the ground with his head.

I deserved it, poor thing. I left him on his own for a month. And I know he must have felt abandoned and… And nobody should feel like that.

I cried for the first time in a month, and we cuddled.

You were right, my love. It did me well.

I think I’ll get back in the afternoons.

I never answered to you about magic and… I’m not using much magic. I’ve been seeing Desperation again in my dreams. Nothing much, I’m still here and I’m fine, both the Augur and Sigrid are aware. The Augur has been very helpful. I’m telling you because it may help you too.

He says that for all negative spirits we attract, there’s a good one too. The good one is lingering around, we just need to see it, even if it’s a little more difficult to tune down the noise of the other.

I feel mine: there’s Cole around, lingering at the edge of my vision. He hasn’t approached me yet, but I feel him, always there. At the ready should I… Well, I do need him. But I need him from afar.

I’m not yet ready to face head-on what happened, and facing him would mean that.

But I’m writing you from the stable, forgive the wobbly calligraphy. I hope you can still read it, but my desk is furry and breathing. I couldn’t take his head away from my legs, and I don’t want to. He needed this, and so do I.

I stopped crying, but I think I’ll get back at it in some minutes. It’s good for me, and I missed it too.

I feel hopeful today.

Thank you for pushing me to come here.

Thank you for knowing me better than I do. I needed that. I still do.

I will be ready to see Cole and talk with him. Eventually.

I think I’ll try to hop on Little Brother, tomorrow.

I should probably stop writing. I do miss you keenly, right now, and I wish you were here. Do not fret here, tho: you have work to do and I don’t want to distract you any more than I’m already doing, love.

I am fine. I’m not lying.

Please do not worry, and remember that I love you. Even if you make me angry at times.

I love you and I miss you, and I hope I’ll dream of you tonight, and that it’ll be a nice memory. It’s not that hot to swim, unfortunately, but I’ll be able to dream of when we did in Wycome.

Love, quite a lot of it even if it smells like horse, Aisling

---

Stone-Bear Hold, Kingsway 29, 9:44 Dragon

Cullen,

Nothing much to add since yesterday, honestly.

I just wanted you to be the first to know: I am waiting for Little Brother to be saddled. I need to find a way to do it myself, but-

*the rest is written in a calligraphy even less readable and clear than the rest, clearly scribbled very quickly.*

You must be kidding- Who am I writing to, I’m telling you directly.

Spirits, you’re so sappy it’s lucky I love you.

Or not, the lucky one is definitely me.

Here? Really? With all those reports?

Ok I’m done, I’m asking you.

---

---

Stone-Bear Hold, Kingsway 30, 9:44 Dragon

Hiding this in your boot as you sleep, if you won’t notice when you’ll put it up tomorrow, know that it’s the reason I smiled at you. Well, one of the reasons, not the only one and not the most important. But still.

Nothing much, I just wanted to say thank you, and reiterate that you’re impossible and stubborn and totally the fun police. And that I love you because you are.

Thank you, really.

A.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #da fanfic #cullavellan #post trespasser #ANGST #writing petrel #aisling lavellan #cullen rutherford #epistolary #am I sure about anything of this? ABSOLUTELY NO #unfortunately my mind works in order I'll post this to hopefully be able to get on with the last prompt I have #also it's been in my WIP for two months and I'm tired of looking at it :"D

[lorrainmorgan]

Sebastian's cousin, Uncle Solomon's son: Arthur Sallow.

Serpent's Help

[ 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐮 𝐦𝐲 🐍 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 ]

Previous

Read it here or Expand and enjoy!

Lorrain leaned forward, her eyes squinting as she tried to decipher what was forming before her. It was a sentence, no, more like a warning. 

Great. Just Great. 

The heavy oak door creaked open, signaling the arrival of Phineas Black, followed by Arthur Sallow.

In a moment of keen observation, Lorrain saw Ominis’ quick movements as he turned around and covertly slipped Geneiva's wand between some papers that were still scattered on Professor Weasley’s desk. His actions hidden behind a fake smile as he greeted the Headmaster with practiced ease. 

"Greetings and Happy Christmas! I see Miss Morley has made a full recovery!” Phineas exclaimed with a cheerful tone. “I was beginning to worry about you, but it seems you are still in one piece." His tone was almost painful to hear - a forced cheerfulness that barely masked his true cynic nature.

“It’s Morgana…” Lorrain corrected with annoyance. “And yes, thank you Professor”

Professor Black raised an eyebrow at the young woman's correction.“You Young people are infernally convinced that you are right about everything…As for you, Mr. Gaunt,” Phineas hissed at Ominis, leaning in so that only the two of them could hear, “I thought I made myself quite clear when I recommended keeping yourself occupied with a different type of company.”

Ominis felt the pungent, repulsive breath assaulting his nostrils. It was a nauseating combination of firewhiskey and rotten eggs, with a hint of decay mixed in. 

The blonde simply tilted his head to the side, his unseeing eyes never betraying any hint of fear or discomfort. “I was actually called by Professor Weasley,” he lied “to inform me about some new braille scrolls the school recently purchased. I presume you were the one in charge of acquiring them, Professor Black? My father will be pleased to know this school is meeting his expectations, thanks to you.”

Lorrain and Mrs. Weasley darted at each other. 

Ominis, usually an honest and straightforward individual, found himself resorting to lies when necessary, especially when dealing with authority figures like the Headmaster.

He was a bit obvious if you knew him well enough: 

His habitual voice tone changed, it went a few notes lower. 

He talked slower than usual.

He’ll hold on to his wand with both hands and start playing with it 

Not being the smartest lie he’d told, it worked. 

“Yes… of course young Gaunt!” The headmaster flushed with pride at the unexpected praise from his student, even though he didn't even know what braille was. For all he knew it could be an ingredient for a love potion. He cleared his throat loudly and stood a little taller. “I’m always on the lookout to improve the education of the… the…em…students with… er…different abilities and disabi-”

"Pardon me, Professor Black," Arthur urgently interjected. "I apologize for interrupting, but I must speak with the girl immediately. Minister Spavin is waiting for me...". 

The headmaster's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the unexpected interruption. He glanced at Professor Weasley, who smiled politely but seemed she was growing impatient as well, and just wanted him to get to the point. 

“Mr. Sallow wanted to say something to Miss Morrigan . I offered to pass the message along, but he insisted on coming here himself. " Phineas nodded, gesturing for Arthur to continue. 

The auror's black boots crunched on the wooden floor as he confidently strode towards Lorrain. 

Not wanting to be noticed, Ominis discreetly raised his wand to observe what was about to happen next.  

The auror stood in front of the girl, his demeanor rigid and business-like. In a monotone voice, he began what seemed like a rehearsed speech: "On behalf of the Ministry of Magic, we appreciate your cooperation. If needed, you will be notified beforehand and given plenty of anticipation to attend any further statements at the Ministry." But as he finished his robotic speech, there was a shift in his demeanor. His gaze softened, his jaw tensed and his shoulders went stiffed as he continued  ”... and I'd like to extend my sincerest apologies if our interrogation methods seemed-"

“Cruel? Savage? Sadistic? Inhuman?” Lorra spat at him.

“...Harsh.” he finished lamely. 

Ominis scoffed at Arthur's pitiful attempt at an apology, his own expression filled with disdain and disgust.

Arthur then extended his hand towards the girl. She gripped his hand firmly, matching his strength. 

But as their hands shaked, an unexpected texture caught her attention. A small piece of paper was hidden between Arthur's fingers, nestled tightly between two of them. Lorra attempted to keep her cool, not wanting to give away what she had noticed. His action seemed to silently communicate the importance of the secret paper as he expertly slid it between her thumb and index finger before releasing her hand. 

Why is he doing this in such a cryptic way? What would Arthur not want the headmaster to know? Lorra thought.

Quickly crossing her arms over her chest, Lorra discreetly hid the paper from sight. The auror's gaze then flicked between the girl and the fireplace multiple times.

“A sincere apology from the Ministry Of Magic on Christmas… and from an officer…How fitting Mr. Sallow, you shouldn't have bothered…” The headmaster uttered “Mr. Gaunt, Mrs Weasley, if you don’t mind showing him the way out. I need to get going, my wife Ursula awaits my arrival at my manor. It's a big event tonight, like every year. You know how it is." With a curt nod, he bid farewell and swept out of the room. 

“After you…” Ominis said to Arthur with mock politeness, gesturing towards the exit with his wand.

Before Arthur headed outside, he stopped and turned to the girl.

“Miss Morgana”- He repeated “I am . truly . sorry . and… ” He seemed sincere, but there was something holding him back from fully expressing himself.

And what? Just get going already...Lorra thought to herself, not bothering to respond. What was that all about? Passing a secret note under the headmaster's nose? How old was he, five? She simply looked at him, up and down a few times, analyzing him, taking in every detail of his appearance from his chiseled jawline to his messy brown hair, asking herself if he could be trusted. After all, she had every right to despise that man, after what he had done to her the day before…But for some reason- for some reason that apology felt quite real. 

“Is there anything else we can help you with, Mr. Sallow? I believe the Minister is waiting for you, is he not?” The Headmistress's voice rang out, interrupting the tense silence in the room. She joined Ominis at the door frame, who couldn't contain his frustration any longer and had begun to stomp his foot. 

"That'll be all," Arthur said, his voice faltering slightly as he wished Miss Morgana a happy Christmas. He cleared his throat and hurried out of the office, followed closely by Professor Weasley and Ominis. The sound of their footsteps echoed off the walls as they made their way to the South Exit. 

Lorra remained in the office, taking a moment to process everything that had just happened. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves before deciding what to do next. 

With a determined sigh, she walked over to the door and turned the lock with a soft click . She needed some time alone to gather her thoughts. The silence enveloped her as she leaned against the door, closing her eyes.

As her mind raced, she tried to piece together the puzzle with the most obvious questions and logical explanations:

The paper could be a trap, a cursed paper?… No, Arthur seemmed smarter than that. I’d be too obvious.

The apology was a mere distraction…  That meant he didn’t want the Headmaster to know about this.

What could be so important that he would have to hide it from Professor Black?  That, I had no clue. 

Ugh screw this.

She unfolded the piece of paper.

There was nothing on it. 

Not even an ink stain. 

She checked the back. 

Nothing. 

She went to the fireplace and put it against the bright flames, nothing. 

Against the window? Nothing still. 

She tried not to lose it. Why on earth would Arthur go through the trouble of coming all the way down from the Ministry just to give her an empty piece of paper? 

Lorra's heart raced as she sprinted to the desk, searching frantically for the wand Ominis had left hidden there. Her hands hovered hesitantly over it, unsure if she should use it or not. But her curiosity got the better of her and she snatched it up, unable to resist any longer.

She casted Revelio on the paper.

Nothing. 

“Ugh for the love of-”

She led out a growl and threw the wand at the couch in frustration. 

Her mind was in turmoil. There was an indescribable pain in her chest that had started to grow since Ominis and Mrs. Weasley had unveiled her true past. Her sense of self and belonging wrecked, as she realized she was nothing but a pawn in someone else's game. 

And what were the chances of her forming such a close bond with someone whose family played such a significant role in her life… bad luck probably. 

Everything was falling apart in her mind. Everything was confusing, a mess, everything she thought she knew was a lie. She felt like she was drowning in her own thoughts. She felt her throat burning with anguish and… 

Burn. 

.

.

.

Lorra snapped out of her thoughts and forcefully threw the crumpled piece of paper into the roaring fire. It has to be the answer , she thought desperately. She waited with bated breath, eyes fixed on the flames.

Nothing happened. 

The fire continued to crackle and dance, seemingly unaffected by her actions. Disappointment washed over her.

Come on...come on… She urged in her mind.

She waited.

As she waited, the ashes from the paper scattered all over the fireplace, like a final farewell from its once solid form. But then something unexpected happened. The scattered ashes began to group together, forming letters. Then words. 

Lorrain leaned forward, her eyes squinting as she tried to decipher what was forming before her. It was a sentence, no, more like a warning. 

A sharp gasp escaped Lorrain's lips. 

She knew without a doubt that this was not a prank or a coincidence. 

Her mind raced as she realized she needed to find Arthur immediately. Without hesitating, she sprinted in the same direction they had gone, her feet almost flying over the polished stone floors of the castle. The sound of her frantic footsteps echoed off the walls, adding to her frenzied pace as she pumped her arms to propel herself even faster.

Stupid Ministry. Stupid Aurors. Stupid Arthur Sallow.

She gracefully weaved her way through the halls of Hogwarts, avoiding students who were also staying at the school. Finally reaching the Central Hall, she pushed open the door with force, only to crash into Ominis, almost stabbing herself with his wand. His usually pale complexion was even more ghostly, with his hair and sweater dusted with fresh snow flakes. 

" Meva Lorra, come," he urged, gently placing a hand on her waist.

"No, I need to find Arthur!" 

"He just left," 

Lorra let out a frustrated sigh. If only she had discovered the message on that piece of paper a few seconds earlier...

" Meva …" Ominis pleaded.

He gently guided Lorra towards their secret hideaway. His grip on her waist tightened, a subtle show of protection as he led her towards the entrance of the Undercroft. 

#artists on tumblr #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanart #hphl mc #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #lorrain morgana #ominis gaunt fanfiction #ominis gaunt x mc #sebastian x ominis x mc #Arthur sallow #slytherin #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #solomon sallow

[thatonebirdwrites]

Holy shit was this chapter hard to write. So many moving pieces. Also, upping the stakes appropriately.

I feel bad for what I'm putting Lena through. She's gonna need so many cuddles from Kara after all this.

____

EXCERPT:

Lena pictures boxes. Or Crystals. Objects to contain emotions and energy. Except even boxes that hold energy — potential wells as they are called in quantum mechanics — fail to contain. Particles still leak through the barriers, that quantum tunneling effect, which means energy too leaks out. Matter and energy are sides of the same coin really.

These are facts Lena knows by heart. One of her degrees dealt with quantum mechanics, specifically quantum computing. 

Yet knowing facts does not stop the problem that she currently leaks energy. Her so-called ‘magic’ tunneling out of her boxes. It rattles windows, shakes the ground, and Lena needs control.

It doesn’t help that her Uncail Fionn stands in front of her, the memory of his binding seared back into her brain. It’s taking most of her concentration to not lash out further at him. “I need you,” she points to him, “to make a list of what we need for this expedition. We must reach the forge before the full moon tonight. Understood?”

The tables rock back and forth around them, which makes her words perhaps a bit more ominous than she meant. 

Fionn nods. “Not much but food and hiking gear needed.”

She can see the fear in his tight expression, the way he has his own magic curling around his hand. Narrowing her eyes, she takes a step closer. He jerks backward. “If you dare to use magic on me again, Uncail Fionn,” she spits out his name, “I will make you regret it, understand?”

Her fury knocks over the nearby table and one of the windows cracks.

Fionn nods, his hand clenches into a fist, and his silver magic fades. “Don’t eat the head off me,” he says, a shake in his voice. “I’m agreeing to help. I want to make sure yuh survive this, okay?” 

Lena smiles humorlessly. “I’m simply making sure we have an understanding.” 

Fionn lets out a heavy sigh. “Control, Lena. To find the forge, yuh need control.” 

How absolutely infuriating. She knows that. But looking at Fionn has her anger flaring with a vengeance, which in turn somehow impacts her energy and that causes damage to the environment. All around them, the tables and chairs are knocked over and there are hairline cracks in the windows. If this is part of the gift the Morrigan gave her, it is incredibly unsettling, but Lena cannot afford to let anyone see that. She has to stay strong and confident, especially in front of her uncail. She finds using the Irish term for the word helps keep her distance from him.

“We definitely need lots of snacks,” Kara says, her eyes locked on Lena. “Nia, can you and Fionn cover that? I saw so many good ones at the ordering counter. Lena and I will meet you in the parking lot.”

“Sure thing.” Nia gives a mock salute. “Hey Irish dude. Ready?”

#supercorp #irish lena luthor #pov lena luthor #lena luthor #kara zor el #kara danvers #kara x lena #nia nal #supergirl cw #cw supergirl #supergirl #magic!lena #Ramping up stakes is such a delicate business #Always cleanse your body and environment before you do magic folks! #Kara and Nia are the best wingwoman but they also have no idea what's going on for most of this and that's okay #They got Lena's back no matter what

[lairofdragonagelore]

Somewhere in the Crossroads

This post has compiled the most relevant information during the main quest for completion’s sake. These quests have little “archaeological” value, but since I’m visually covering the majority of the game, I can’t put them aside.

The last minute of the game, after the end of the credits.

[Index page of Dragon Age Lore]

Somewhere, probably in a space of the Crossroads, we see Flemeth in front of a mirror. This scene is extremely mysterious because we can't be sure of what she is doing with the eluvian.

This could be a piece of herself being placed in the mirror so she can awake eventually in similar fashion as she did with the necklace in DA2. This is an option that, no matter your choices in game, is always possible.

This could also mean that she is placing Urthemiel in the mirror to save them from being consumed by Solas. She knows that with the destruction of the orb, Solas only has a way to find the power he needs: hers. But this option would make no sense in a game where the player did not save Urthemiel, so this possibility is immediately discarded.

If we read the description of the Dev's notes in the game files [all the game files I'm working with belong to Corseque's works since I don't know how to extract these things] we realise that Flemeth always knew the development of this series of events. She knows that Solas needs her powers, and she won't resist it, but she wants to "pass the essence of her godhood onto Morrigan". Now, there is some chance that the bit of energy she is placing into the mirror is "this essence of godhood". Lore-wise, it seems a bit confusing to me, since I understood that the essence of Godhood in Flemeth is Mythal herself, no? So, she is placing a bit of Mythal for Morrigan to accept eventually? Or this essence is more related to what the elvhen extracted from the Titans?

From the small bits that follow in the scene, we obtain some confirmations:

This seems to be the Crossroads, since we see Elven Tree Statues in the background.

Flemeth recognises that the orb belonged to Fen'Harel [”your orb”], despite its game file name [Mythal_orb]. It seems that originally was meant to be her orb, probably lent to Solas, but that was changed to make it his orb.

Combining it with information that Solas gave us in the Frostback Mountains: Attack to Haven, we know this orb accumulated his energy while he was in his slumber.

So, this orb increased in energy as Solas stayed in his slumber. While, according to the game files, Flemeth’s had a small bit of Mythal that she nurtured through the ages. It seems to imply that both powers are equivalent, so I’m inclined to suspect a bit more that the orbs are related to the power of godhood, and Solas has it in the shape of an orb because he never made it part of himself [according to his mosaics in the Elven mountain Ruins], while Mythal had this power inside her. 

Flemeth cultivated the power of Mythal because she knew Solas will need that power, eventually. 

He calls it slumber, not Uthenera [I personally think that the game series hints us that the Uthenera is a more messed-up and horrifying process than mere slumber. But I need to work in a long post about Uthenera.]

After his slumber of thousands of years, he was too weak to unlock the orb, so he tried to use Corypheus and kill him in the process. It clearly failed.

He would prefer to pay for his mistake, but he seems to have a unique role or power to make his People return. Would this imply that he is the only one able to destroy the Veil and join the Waking World with the Fade again?

We get the confirmation that Mythal and Fen'Harel were old friends, as all the ruins we visited along the game seemed to suggest.

A moment before consuming Flemeth, we see a very particular effect. I'm not so sure if it can be understood as the following, but it seems to visually suggest what we have been suspecting for a while: Solas [like all the elvhenan] has been a spirit [or better said, an entity of the like] bound to a shape. This similar effect has been seen in Hakkon, when the spirit shape overlapped the dragon's head in a teal-greenish-like colour. Now, we also know that Solas has been this way since the time of the Evanuris [his own words at the end of Tespasser], so, if this interpretation is correct, he has been bound to shape even before the creation of the Veil.

UPDATE Jan 2023: Mrs-guache has added an extra relevant detail and a gif in a different angle in their post [here]. 

Checking the game files, Mrs-guache found that Solas’ effect on his head is called “fadewisp head”, the same one used for the orange wraiths we find in-game.

The place where both are met is an elvhen ruin. Unlike anything else we saw before, this eluvian is protected by both of them, one at each side of the mirror. The size of the eluvian is immense too.

When Solas consumes Flemeth, her face looks like turned into stone? There is some greyness to her face that ends up covering her completely. I don't think we saw this effect before in any other moment of the game. It’s not exactly petrify. She is like turned into “ashes” [it’s not stone, but it’s certainly extremely grey]. It's also curious that this power is similar to what we see that Solas uses against the Qunari in Tresspasser: they turn into stone with just a flash of his eyes.

Symbolically speaking, it is also curious that entities of fluidity like the elvhen could manage a power so related to the stone, the titans, and therefore, the reinforcement of reality. Maybe in this detail there is a hint about why the Evanuris godhood [aka, power] seems to be related to titans. But there is no hard evidence on this, and it’s a topic for another post anyway.

The following scene is Solas’s face, with all the power he needs for his goal. His eyes glow in a cold blue, and he is surrounded by a dark smoke effect.

These were effects we saw in Flemeth when trying to control the person who drank from the Well,

as well as in Abelas, when he tried to destroy the Well of Sorrow.

I can’t stop thinking that, taking into consideration the decade of time difference and the engine, it’s a similar effect to the DAO Archdemon, just in a more blueish hue. It’s also described as such in the book Last Flight. I’m not saying they are the same, but there may be a connection. It always surprised me that these powerful elves had such an ominous and “dark” effect associated with their magic.

An interesting gem that Corseque showed in her post, is that it seems that Morrigan was meant to witness this last scene when Solas consumes Flemeth, but it was removed from the game. I personally think it doesn’t change much. Morrigan seems to be able to use some eluvians, so it makes sense that she may have ended in this place. Probably, originally, it was going to be a situation that would justify the moment when she acquired her godhood, but it seems she will do it eventually when she finds out this eluvian where Flemeth placed that godhood essence.

Update 2023: Gaider shared in a twitter a flux diagram where we see part of the cut content of this scene

In particular, the important section is this one:

Solas seems to drain Flemeth but not killing her, it’s the drinker of the Well of Sorrow who does it, probably removing the effect of the Whispers, free of any bound related to Mythal’s essence [the Well of Sorrow has a bit of her essence to work]. This is cut content and I’m not fan to explore this too deep because we don’t truly know to what point this may still apply into the story. What seems interesting in this cut content is that this is the last command that Mythal tells to the Inquisitor when she implied that there was a still a command she wanted to from them, it’was not the right moment yet. 

In any case, this was Solas’ intention since the moment the orb broke, that’s probably why he looks so heartbroken in the scene wher he picks the pieces of the orb: he knows he has to kill Flemeth, and potentially, transform himself in the process. He tried to work his feeling through the mural we find in Skyhold, but he could not manage to finish it. The dragon is dead, and the wolf acquires a dragony-shape. This  emotion is so deep and strong, than in Tevinter Night, we learn that he ended up feeding a demon with similar shape: a black wolf of dragony style called Regret. 

The story was well known—the Elder One, the false god Corypheus, had torn a hole in the sky to steal power from the heavens. He couldn’t be killed until his blighted dragon was dead, and the Herald, the Inquisitor, had somehow countered with a dragon of their own. And there was a dragon on the panel, with an Inquisition blade in its neck. But according to the story, both creatures had fallen first, leaving the final victory to the Inquisitor.

But here, unfinished, was the outline of a beast that stood over both dragon and sword. This was not the battle, or the victory. This was after. And the beast was not a dragon. The outline alone might have allowed that assumption, but now, filling with black and red, it was something other. The creature was reptilian, but also canine. The snout was blunted and toothy, but edges came to a point in houndlike ears. As the mass of plaster filled the shape, it began to rise, revealing scales and tail, and paws with talons. It looked like two figures painted on either side of a pane of glass, then viewed together, their forms confused. A wolf that had absorbed a dragon, and now stood crooked over all.

[...] The beast regarded him in silence, looming, and then its plaster lips spread into a smile far too quickly. “I am the heart of what was here.” As it spoke, it raised an arm—one of three—and pointed at the fresco panels in order. “An echo that has breached the Fade.” The creature’s arm finished its path at Sutherland’s friends. “And I can still the bravest blade or magic.”The limb folded into the creature’s layers, each movement adding to the rasping sound. It rose to its full height, as high as the panels would’ve allowed, and bellowed its name so loud that dust fell from the walls.“I am Regret!”

[...] “I am the regret of a god, you—!”

--Callback, Tevinter Nights.

#flemeth #solas #Howling Fen'Harel statue #Dragon Mythal statue #eluvian #main quest #elven tree statue

[sacredsistersthree]

The Morrigan’s engagement with me today has been temperamental, though not in an angry or hostile way

we chatted through the cards (the deck devoted to Her) at the start of the day, where She told me to a) be patient with Her and myself (okay, cool) and b) cut myself from the fearful bonds of childhood (woof, that one’s harsh, but I’m slowly trying. made small steps, more on this later)

when I couldn’t decide what to do with myself, She implored me to light Her incense, make a cup of Her tea, and read a book (She picked, went with an old Gregory Maguire favorite) while listening to Hozier (She didn’t want Her playlist, it’s a bit too angry/war-minded for what She wanted for me today). I felt an extreme surge of emotions over the course of these actions, ranging from overwhelming (soul-clawing) love for my husband, fresh adoration- and kind of awe- at the existence of my cat, and then painful, hurtful guilt. guilt at the rejection of and isolation from what little family I have left. my fear of (the rest of that family, which I have cut off completely) engaging in any part of my past has driven me fully away from people I love and care about. I’m missing out on watching them grow up. I’m missing out on the comfort of familial ties. I’m missing out on pieces of my puzzle that have no need to be burned. so I reached out. I froze upon getting a reply, so I’ll tackle that tomorrow. but I think this was step 1 of freeing myself of those bonds She wants me free of. and then I shut my eyes and cried while listening to an old Gaelic folk song.

I feel a bit of relief, and also a tightness in my chest. I think She has important shadow work for me to be doing that I’ve long been ignoring. being in touch with Her means being in touch with my roots means being in touch with my past. not running from razed earth, but cultivating old soil and planting a new harvest. I feel Her hand on my back. I feel comforted and held by Her in these actions, a comfort I’ve never known before. it’ll all be okay.

time to drink more tea and read more books. and maybe cry a little bit more too.

#the wolf speaks #the morrigan #the morrigan deity #devotional writings #celtic pagan #celtic paganism #the morrigan devotee #the morrigan devotion #the morrigan worship #devotional writing

[emperor-palpaminty]

Storms

I’m replaying Rogue and Shay’s voice is literally addictive so have an AC rogue fic because I am having feelings for Shay Patrick Cormac

F!Reader, no use of y/n or “you”

She curled up on the windowsil, staring out at the winds harassing the trees. This time of year and this close to the coast often resulted in brutal storms. She shuddered, pulling the knitted blanket more around herself, watching the grey clouds roll in. 

Her head snapped towards the door as it shuddered and opened, the tall figure dropping the fire wood by the entry way. “Ah, it’s far too cold out there.” He shrugged off his black coat as she stood, the blanket pulling closer. Shay looked over and smiled briefly. “Perhaps if I had a pair of arms to warm me up, lass.”

The woman chuckled and nodded. She was fully dressed, but still cold, or at least cold enough to put on the blanket around her day to day wear. “Fine, Shay, I suppose we could share.”

The man met her halfway- he bent and scooped her up, walking over to the couch and lowering himself, pulling her into his lap. “Hold me, lass.” He said softly, smiling against her cheek. “If ya hold me, you can scare off the cold that’s lurkin’ in my bones.” He kissed her face as she giggled, draping the blankets around them both. “Don’t want me dying of chills, do we?”

“You? Cold? Please, Shay.” She pulled her head away and looked at him, fighting a grin away from her mouth. His eyes traced the gentle curve of the smile as her warmth seeped into him with a shudder running up his spine. “You’ve survived on ice caps, and with polar bears.”

“Mm,” He managed, eyes still skimming her face. She turned her head away, her lips turning up in that giggle that he knew was her shy of his flattery and flirting. “I landed a lovely lass, you know.” He ran his hand up her side, leaning forward until his nose pressed to her cheek. Shay closed his eyes and inhaled her scent- she smelled of warmth, bread, and spices, all that were fond of his heart. “What did I do to deserve ye?”

She laughed again. It fluttered away as she stood, pacing towards the fireplace. “I should get a fire started.”

“Aye, it’ll make it warmer, but I can do it.” Shay stood, steps pausing only when thunder rumbled outside. He groaned and stared at the window, rubbing his hands together. “Great. The Morrigan is all out, and she just got a new shipment of powder- I hope it’s all loaded.”

“Shay,” Her voice lilted from the fireplace as she worked. She was holding her skirts back gently, humming as she stoked at the starting flame. “I am sure that Gist and the boys got it all loaded together.” She turned her head and looked at him, offering an encouraging smile. “Besides, if they didn’t, you could simply throw Gist overboard.”

Shay shook his head, but laughed as he picked up a couple pieces of wood. They weren’t damp, fortunately, and there was some more waiting in the covered part of the porch. “Aye, he would like that.” He walked over and bent down by her, gently throwing in one of the wood pieces. “He probably did something else to deserve it, too- just can’t name it.” He lowered himself onto the rug, watching as his lover did the same, picking up the blanket. 

“Shay? May I ask you something?”

May she? “Anything at all ye want, I’m as open as a book.”

“I know you work for Mister Kenway.” She stated. “And I know the nature of... some of your work.” The words were selected carefully, as if she had thought this out. “But before... he said you worked for someone else.”

The cold seemed to return, breathing down his neck. “Sorry, lass. That I won’t say.” She opened her mouth to speak, and Shay raised a soothing hand, gentle in his movement, earnestly seeking her eyes. “The less I say, the safer ye are.” She closed her mouth, pursing her lips in thought. 

“But I would like some answers.”

“And you’ll have them, but not today.” Shay wrapped his arm around her, pulling her to his chest as the fire sparked. It whispered and crackled, promising some semblance of peace. She didn’t need to know everything about the Assassians, his Brotherhood. Not tonight at least. “Today, let’s watch the fire and have each other in the warmth.” 

She nodded as she nestled back to him, her head lolling back on his chest. “And tomorrow, Shay?”

“Tomorrow I’ll throw Gist overboard. Just for ye.”

She laughed and pulled his hand to her lips, gently kissing it as the flames danced, the little sounds drowning out another rumble of thunder. “Of course.” She closed her eyes, the orange glow embracing her, lacing her lashes and cheeks. “And tonight we will be here.” She confirmed, softly, and he lowered his head to kiss her hair.

“Aye,” He whispered into her locks, running a hand over her back. “Tonight you’ll be safe with me.”

#ac rogue #assassians creed rogue #shay patrick cormac #shay patrick cormac x reader #shay cormac #shay cormac x reader #shay cormac x you #assassians creed rogue reader insert

[ablogofsapphicpanic]

Hey There! A little birdie told me you’re anxiously awaiting the fic. I am also anxiously awaiting this fic to finish. What was going to be a cute little 8k one shot has now exploded into something that’s 25k+ or maybe more by the time I'm finished editing.

Oops. 

Good news is you’ll definitely get the first half by the 22nd (est…15k...probably more words, so hopefully that's a good chunk for a part 1). I’m a slow editor and want to do this ship justice since there’s not enough content about Emerie and Mor in this fandom. 

The second half will come first week within the new year if not sooner. There’s some smooching and some other stuff that needs to happen. You know?! 

The better news is the Gale-off went well... just in case you were wondering. When I'm revealed, I'll fill you in on the details!

Also a hint to my identity is you know me. 

Here’s a little snippet btw: 

Emerie stood at the entrance to the clearing for a moment and cleared her throat.  "Didn't realize you'd be out here."  Morrigan gave her a playful grin, "I would eat all the chocolate otherwise."  “I don’t know. Gwyn is a big fan of it too." Emerie said. Mor gave an exaggerated scoff at her teasing.  " Consider this as me giving her a head start before I show up, then." The two laughed and Emerie’s unease seemed to melt away.  "Why are you out here? I thought you'd be with Nesta,” Mor finally asked. Emerie's wings twitched a bit at this. "I needed a bit of air, things are getting rowdy in there."  “Already?” she smiled.” Emerie shrugged, though Morrigan wasn’t surprised. Cassian hadn’t stopped talking about the ceremony for days and she was certain Rhysand had already cracked open some champagne. She knew Rhysand had asked Nesta for her preference and she hadn’t cared. She wouldn’t partake but she didn’t mind if others did. Thank the mother for small favors.  "You can come sit if you'd like, '' Morrigan said, patting the seat next to her. "I don't bite." At this, the Valkyrie rolled her eyes.  "I'd like to see you try." she murmured. 

I’ve been telling everybody that will listen that I’m anxiously awaiting the results of the Gale-Off 😂😂 I’m very heavily invested in this low-stakes drama in your friend group, okay? Some of us don’t have lives.

ALSO THAT SNIPPET IM

I’M FERAL BUT ALSO GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET IN THE OFFICE AT WORK JESUS CHRIST I’M NOT OKAY

I NEED FRIDAY TO COME SO THAT I CAN KISS YOU WITH LOTS OF TONGUE IF THIS SNIPPET IS FEEDING ME SO WELL I CAN INLY IMAGINE WHAT 25K IS GONNA DO TO ME

Also I’m 👀👀👀 at that hint 👀👀👀 excuse me while I spend my whole shift trying to piece it together (and probably fail miserably)

SERIOUSLY THANK YOU SO MUCH THIS HAD ME SO EXCITED

There is NO RUSH at all but I am soooo looking forward to reading this and giving you ALL MY LOVE. I am so glad you’re taking your time to do them justice and from that snippet that time is PAYING OFF

#secret Santa #since you know me I’m sure the offer to kiss you with tongue doesn’t come as a shock

[grapecaseschoices]

character song tags

@serenpedac tagged me in this a few days ago.

fun facts though i’ve been making ship (and infamous concept albums) playlists of late, i don’t actually have character playlists. 

so ima do a bit of a cop out (to save my mental health) and take from the playlists i already have, which are for og!kendis and og!andy. (ima try to pick songs that work for their if canons)

Andy Yasar

Blood On My Name - The Brother’s Bright (for Erkan Yasar @/exilethegame)

When the fires, when the fires have surrounded you And the whole wide world's comin' after you I've got blood I've got blood on my name When the fires, when the fires are consuming you And your sacred stars won't be guiding you I've got blood I've got blood Blood on my name  

Second Chances - Gregory Alan Isakov (for Andy Yasar @/seraphinitegames)

Me, I'm mumbling in the kitchen for the sun to pay up Lonely is a ring on a cold coffee cup I'm some sick hound Digging for bones If it weren't for second chances, we'd all be alone

Kendis Crawford-Louel 

Sea Lion - Sage Francis (for Kendis Lateth @/exilethegame) 

Ma, Ma, look what I did, Ma Look what I did to my hands, I broke em You gave me the stone, gave me the chisel Didn't say how to hold em Didn't say give away every piece of the puzzle Till I was left with nothing But I took it upon myself to crush it up and distribute the dust

 Free - Florence + The Machine (for Kendis Crawford-Louel @/keeperofthesunandmoon)

I'm always running from something I push it back, but it keeps on coming And being clever never got me very far Because it's all in my head And "You're too sensitive", they said

Xhyera Sarnan [my deathless demon commander]

The Wolf - PHILDEL 

And you once said I wish you dead you sinner I'll never be more than a wolf at your door for dinner And if I see you 'round like a ghost in my town, you liar I'll leave with your head oh I'll leave you for dead, sire.

I know, my way through the night to your door You know, the blood that I'm owed is all yours The wishes I've made are too vicious to tell The devil already he knows me so well

@moderarato @heroofpenamstan @dumortains @tumortain @aylaaescar @sapphic-story @amlovelies @thelittlestspider @watertribegirl @equusgirl @clintnatalias @tangerineloves @thee-morrigan @coldshrugs @umbertors @roxaro  @narrativefoiltrope @unitedindistaste @karolinarodrigueswrites @trebondialanna @yes-prisoner @beyonceswigs and whoever else desires!

#grapecase posts #tag game #oc: andy yasar #oc: kendis crawford louel #og andy's playlist is so southern gothic lmao and ofc catholic coded #exile: erkan yasar #twc: andy yasar #exile: kendis lateth #keeper: kendis crawford louel #oc: xhyera sarnan

[helenofsimblr]

Stella: Unfortunately, Maisie had hit me with a sucker punch and I began to feel like Nigel was a career man first and foremost. I imagined my mother in my head, old, cynical and judgemental. Her body a bit swollen up from the nights she spent eating shit and chain smoking watching the television. I felt frightened at that moment, that would be me too… A cynical judgemental chain smoker waiting for my husband to return from work at some point in the night.

Maisie: So are you missing Nigey-wigey!

Stella: Of course. I wish he could have come with us…

Maisie: He’d have cramped our fuckin’ style honey. Besides, I got us some special treats for tomorrow night, we gonna have a nice time.

Stella: Oh gods Maisie, if you’ve been cooking…

Maisie: Me?! Nah, I don’t cook Stella honey… Shall we get another beer before we call it a night?

Stella: I can’t Maze… I’m totally fucking wasted, I can’t drink anything else…

****

Stella: Somehow, we did end up having more beers and other drinks… and I… ended up draped over the bar like a throw over the sofa… I could hear the women talking with the barmaid just about as I still had a shred of consciousness left, back then, I had no idea what they were saying, but now… I know it wasn’t complimentary of me, I may be misremembering but, I think the gist of it was…

Barmaid: (Sulanish) These Districtians, they come here, drink the rum… pass out… *sighs*

Right patron: (Sulanish) You know what they are like at summer break… They come here, get high, tan themselves, or sunburn, have sex, and then thankfully they go home.

Left patron: (Sulanish) I’ve been to the United Districts, women like her are everywhere, different culture over there… indulgence, no self control and no discipline. Not to mention crime! I also heard a rumor that the King has come ashore again… And that he has been watching this one here…

Barmaid: (Sulanish) I can only hope that the King merely wishes to entertain himself with her and nothing more… 

Stella: They made a few comments about your mother Morrigan, basically all of it most complimentary and how they all missed her too. Well as disgraceful as I must have looked draped over the bar…

****

Stella: Maisie I would say was in a worse condition… She was going to wake up with a bad neck for sure. Luckily the island had a Chiropractor which was a great piece of news for her the next day…

Ozen: I hope what they said didn’t bother you too much Stella, I mean, I’ve been passed out a few times in the bars of Sulani, and even in the castle itself! 

Morrigan: You have, you drunken clodhopper! You’re a disgrace and a liability sometimes. Between you and father, you have both marred this Royal House with disgrace at various points. 

Ozen: Ah! What is it grandma Amphitrite would say? “All the sins in the world can be washed away with the lapping of the tides”

Morrigan: Very good Oz, I see something sank in! Apologies Stella, please continue. 

#ts4 #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 story #Tales From The District #Season Two #Flashback #Stella #crossover #TAC #collab #sparkiekong #OZen #Morrigan #Maisie

[theluckywizard]

Gooood evening and happy Friday! Bringing in the angst train with “You don’t have to love me” for Cullen and Rose :)

Thanks for the ticket for the angst train to whumptown Sterling! For you and also for @rosella-writes

Also thanks to @kiastirling-fanfic for the crazy map idea. For @dadrunkwriting Ship: Cullen x Rose Trevelyan WC: 958 Rating: Teen Angst and Whump!

I blink to awareness as the candle flame wavers frenetically on a sudden gust from the small gap between my balcony doors. There’s a quill in my hand still, ink wicking along the creases in my index finger and a sheet of parchment sits beneath me steals the warmth from my bones.

I drop the quill that I don’t remember picking up and seize the parchment.

In wild repeating gestures a map seems to have taken shape, repeating lines sketched dozens of times until they coalesce into recognizable forms. Landmarks perhaps: A headless woman brandishing a sword, a cave amongst columns of basalt perhaps, lakes and rivers and mountains and and at the far corner the unmistakable shape of a dragon. 

It can only be a new feature of the Well and I’m still not comfortable with the first ones.

The whispers come whether I’m sleeping or not. They permeate my dreams. They haunt the periphery of my waking thoughts. I’m only grateful that I don’t understand the words, which snake softly through my mind in an ancient tongue. Had Morrigan drunk she’d have been tormented with her broad knowledge of arcane languages. But I’d accepted it as my burden, my bargain with Flemeth. Unsettling as it is, I can live with the whispers.

But this new twist is something else.

How long had I been possessed creating this?

When had I left bed? 

I refocus, tamping down my anxious thoughts and comfort myself with Cullen’s presence, his sleeping face shadowed by the curtains of my bed, chest rising and falling with each puff from his lips. I always hate waking him, his slumber so fitful to begin with but especially when I’ve clearly been possessed into scrawling some manner of map without the faintest recollection. 

I need to make sense of it though, and my mind won’t be enough alone.

I sit gently on the edge of the mattress and run my hand up over the contours of his upper arm, over the smattering of freckles on his shoulder and across the scruff of his jaw. I can at least wake him gently before I drop this elemental mine in his lap.

“Mmm,” he sighs without opening his eyes. When my thumb strokes his cheek his eyes flutter open slightly. He rises to an elbow immediately, quickly taking stock of the candlelight, leaping to a heightened state instantly. “Darling. What is it?”

He looks down at the curling piece of parchment.

“Rose? Is something wrong?”

“I woke up at my desk,” I mutter, shaking my head. I hold out my ink stained fingers to him. “Quill in my hand. This parchment beneath me.”

I let the strange drawing do the rest of the work. He rubs his eyes and blinks at it tiredly, and then crosses over to my desk in only his smalls to stare at it in the flickering candlelight. His fingers brush anxiously across his forehead and he looks up at me, his eyes piercing, agonized as the same old anger springs up inside him.

“Maker, Rose,” says Cullen, pacing with my creation. “This is why—“ His shoulders fall. “This is why I was angry. Scared.” I jerk the map back from him, my eyes sweeping over it absently, the intensity of his response nettling in my heart the same way it had when he first found out I’d drunk from the Well.

“Could you please calm down? I think it’s some kind of map.”

“How can you expect me to be calm when you’re telling me you weren’t even aware you’d drawn this? Does this look like your handiwork?”

“Cullen— I need you to think through this with me— not— whatever this is.”

“You could be possessed!”

“I don’t think I am!”

We pace past each other, lacing our distress into a knot between us, pulling it too tight when we steal looks at one another, everything soft between us strangled and suffocated.

“I suppose Hawke would have been fine with this,” he spits bitterly, running a hand through his curls.

“That’s unfair.”

“Is it? You still keep that damned scrap of scarf in your desk.” The accusatory tone, the nearly imperceptible tremor in his fingers as he clutches his forehead. I watch as Cullen realizes his anchor is as adrift as he is.

“This is between you and I.”

“I feel like I’m losing you and you’re right here.”

“I didn’t ask you to love me, Cullen. You knew, you knew what I’m like. The choices I might have to make. The burdens I bear.”

“You say that like I have a choice in the matter. I need you.” The tether between us, frail and frayed as it is still draws us together, the parchment fluttering to the ground as Cullen wraps me up in his bare arms, inhaling deeply against my hair like it could calm him somehow. 

Truthfully, I’m just as terrified as he is. 

“I just want to know what it is,” I tell him, withdrawing a few inches to rest my forehead against his nose. “And I want you to help me find out.”

Cullen pushes wisps of my hair back from my face, tucking them behind my ears and then cradles my cheeks in his hands. “Forgive me,” he whispers, leaning to rest his forehead against mine. His apologies always feel the same, a surrender, a long exhale against my cheek and then the fold of his arms around me, clutching me like a man drowning. “I love you.”

I go to answer but the words have dried up, scorched away by his anger, fleeting though it was. 

Instead I squeeze him like I could banish the knot between us.

But Maker, I’m not sure I can.

#dragon age inquisition #cullen x trevelyan #cullen rutherford #rose trevelyan #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age #in the shattering of things #cullenmance #delicious angst #well of sorrows #puppet of flemythal

[popjunkie42]

You're such a doll. 🥹❤️

🚀🏷️🎁

I was traveling this weekend so just catching up with fic asks!!

🚀Do you like to outline your fic first or create as you go?

Lol I was just discussing this on Sunday! I absolutely outline but I am definitely a lazy, create-as-I-go pantser with a lot of writing. I'll generally get a big burst of creativity when I come up with a new story I'm excited about and I know the broad strokes of everything as well as a few scenes that come to me. I might write it down, I might just remember it. I like the story to unfold as I'm writing it, and a lot of times I'm solving plot problems and discovering emotional through lines as I write as well. It's a messy process and I love it. :) I will say Psyche-Eros is going to be 60k+ words for part one, and I just did a bonkers detailed chapter-by-chapter outline to keep me on track, so I definitely need it for longer works...

🏷️Is there a tag you like to search when looking for fanfics to read?

Honestly the only thing I search is for new Feyre/Rhysand fics! I'm lucky to be tapped in here and get a lot of recommendations from people. And I've found so many good pieces and writers just by searching for new Feysand fics on AO3!

🎁Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

Ok I shared this a bit elsewhere but I think I've already posted a lot of my fave bits from Psyche-Eros so you get something new :) This is an Azris meeting UTM...be gentle, it is my first Azris.

“And how is your dear circle? Is The Morrigan in hiding from her father? He looks at me strangely every time I mention how much I miss her glowing countenance.”

Azriel was still, a dark storm brewing.

Eris knew. Only in seeing Azriel, in the hard iron bars of his mental shield, had he been able to dredge up their names, bits of their faces, like pulling memories out of sticky tar. Their names felt heavy on his tongue.

“I’m not speaking about them.”

“Won’t you? And don’t you want to know what your illustrious High Lord has been up to? Just this evening I watched him make a low fae dance for hours until his feet were bleeding, and then knock him unconscious so quickly his face cracked on the marble floor. Apparently Amarantha thought he had sneered at her in the hall.” No reaction. “We all knew Rhysand was a bit of a monster, but he truly seems to have found his calling in this place. Who knew he would take to servitude so well.”

The lilt of his voice was a taunt, a plea for reaction. He wouldn’t stand for stoic silences today. “Does he even know you’re here?”

The barest hint of a smile, the corner of Azriels’ lips twitching. His eyes like dark coals. “I came to see you.”

Eris huffed a laugh. “How flattering, that you came Under the Mountain just to needle me for information. You’re like a hungry cat. I should never have fed you. Now you won’t stop coming back.”

A smile, a flash of sharp teeth. Menace glistening in shadow. His dark wings rustled as he pushed off of the table where he had been leaning. His steps indeed like a stalking cat. Until he stood in front of him, his wings casting a shadow over the high lord’s son, the fire crackling and looming behind him.

“I wasn’t hungry. But you fed me anyway.” His leg closer, parting Eris’s knees on the couch. Azriel leans down, his eyes going to Eris’s lips. “Says more about you than me, I would think.”

#acotar fanfiction #acotar #fic ask game

[santomorgue]

Morrigan nodded, “Yes,” She spoke plainly, smiling to herself. “That is the favor I ask.” Lefay peered up at her. They’d ceased their data scraping, choosing instead to give Morrigan their full attention. The basilisk could wait a moment to be fed.

Hello I’m back again with another small vignette. This one was once again written after a session. It’s the second piece of writing I’ve ever shared on the internet so I hope it’s enjoyable! Thanks for checking it out!

#lancer #Lancer rpg #lancerrpg #mech #mecha #writblr #writers on tumblr #indie ttrpg #ttrpg oc