Fanfic writer with a passion for exploring romantic relationships // Fandoms: Horizon Zero Dawn, Mass Effect, and Dragon Age // Fandom: Dragon Age, Horizon Zero Dawn, Mass Effect
Aloy lifted her chin and closed her eyes, savouring the gentle fall of snow on her face. She’d always loved the snow, but here in the Cut, snowflakes seemed to carry more weight, as though they were brushed with mystery from the Banuk’s Blue Light.
She smiled as the heavy flakes kissed her eyelashes and melted coolly on her skin. A new snowfall always brought a particular kind of hush with it, a silence like the bated breath right before a sigh of relief.
Finally Aloy opened her eyes and gazed up at the perfectly white sky. It might be so cold that there was frost between her teeth, but she would take a fresh snowfall over a summer breeze any day.
So I came up with this modern AU idea a while ago, thanks in part to @hellarcanine and inspired in part by my undying devotion to Message Sent, but I haven’t expanded on it because I couldn’t figure out the plot or who I wanted Lavellan to end up with. Blackwall or Solas?? I love them both?? And then I was going to put Abelas in it too and I just had to give up because I HAVE PROBLEMS OK
I wrote this one tiny snippet of the fic and I probably won’t write anymore, but what better time to share it than for @dadrunkwriting Friday?
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Second swimsuit, got it… light cardi… fenedhis, where’s that green one I like for the summer?
Ellana flicked through the hangers in her closet once more, her frustration rising as she failed to find the mint-green cardigan in question. Finally her eyes dropped to the floor of the closet.
There, she thought with annoyance; the cardigan lay in a crumpled heap on top of the myriad boxes and purses at the bottom of her closet. She grabbed it and backed out of the closet, then realized with a jolt what she was holding.
It was definitely a cardigan, but it wasn’t hers.
Ellana stared at the garment in her hand for a long moment. Then she dropped the cardigan on the bed and picked up her phone.
She held the phone in her hands for a few seconds, then put it down and continued her packing. Sunscreen and elfroot after-sun lotion went into a plastic bag and then into her carry-on; spare phone charger, a favourite dog-eared novel for the beach, beaded sandals for the evening: she tucked it all snugly into her bag, but she wasn’t focused on her packing anymore. The men’s cardigan on her bed kept drawing her unwilling attention, like a car accident on the freeway.
Finally she was packed, the small suitcase filled with everything except the stuff she’d need for the morning. There was no excuse not to text him.
She picked up her phone and swiped into her messages.
–Ellana 20:34– Hey, I found one of your cardigans in my closet. I’ll bring it to the clinic when we get back from the Arbor Wilds
She tossed the phone down on the bed and went to the kitchen to make some tea. When she came back and casually checked her phone, his reply was there.
–Solas 20:35– You can bring it with you. I am coming on the trip as well.
Inspired by that flirt in Haven that goes as follows:
Blackwall: You have the world at your feet, myself included. Lavellan: At my feet? I could get used to having you there. Blackwall: [APPROVES SO HARD THAT HIS BEAUTIFUL BEARDED HEAD EXPLODES]
Also, I’d like to dedicate this one to @incadinkadoo and @ocean-in-my-rebel-soul , my Blackwall-loving soulmates. Love and kisses to you both! xoxo
It’s a long one, >9000 words, so I won’t post the whole thing here; read on AO3 instead. In the meantime, here is an excerpt.
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It’s been almost a year since the Exalted Council, and almost a year since Arya lost her left arm.
Being the fiercely independent woman that she is, she’s learned to do almost everything with her one remaining arm, and she barely ever asks for help anymore.
So when Arya does ask for help, Blackwall comes running.
“Blackwall? I need a hand!”
Her shouted request is quite literal, and it carries down to him as he steps through the door that leads from the Great Hall into her quarters. Alarmed by the rare request, he vaults up the stairs three by three, then bursts through the bedroom door.
She’s sitting at the vanity in her dressing gown, looking completely at ease, but he hurries to her side nonetheless. “Are you all right?” he demands.
She looks up at him in surprise. “Yes, of course. Can you fetch that for me?” She points vaguely to a spot on the floor about three paces away from her left foot, then shrugs off the left sleeve of her dressing gown and begins fastening her everyday prosthetic to the stump of her left arm.
Confused, Blackwall looks at the ground. A carved wooden comb lies there, likely where she knocked it off the table.
He picks it up and holds it out to her, and she takes it and places it on the vanity before tightening the straps of her prosthetic around her bicep. “Thank you,” she says distractedly, then finally looks up at him.
Her violet eyes widen as she takes in his expression. “You look pale! What’s wrong? Are you ill?”
Slowly he kneels beside her stool. “No,” he says, his muscles going lax with relief. “I’m… I was worried. When you shouted…”
She stares at him, then claps her hand over her mouth. “Fenedhis, did I scare you? No, I dropped that stupid comb and I just heard you coming and I couldn’t be bothered…” She trails off, then a slow smile creeps over her face as she cups his cheek. “Oh, Thom, I’m sorry. I’m fine, I promise. I was just impatient…”
Then her words fade into a delighted trill of laughter. “Your face,” she giggles.
Blackwall wilts in exasperation, then roughly rubs his beard against her bare thigh before giving her leg a punishing little bite. “Arya,” he growls.
She squeaks in amusement at the nip of his teeth. “I’m sorry!” she says. “I didn’t mean to scare you. But since you’re down there picking my things off the floor, how about you polish my boots while you’re at it?”
Her cheeky voice is overflowing with mirth, and Blackwall mock-scowls at her. “You’re not wearing any boots,” he grumbles.
“Not yet,” she says airily. “But I will be once you grab them for me.” She turns back to her mirror and carefully combs her short hair back from her face.
He studies her suspiciously. Her lips are curled in a smirk, and she flutters her eyelashes as she meets his eye in the mirror. “Well?” she simpers.
The Sharper Edge of Love: Romance, Sex, and Fanfic 