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
Hey there’s a new giveaway dedicated to the end of the year! Yay! How was your year, guys? for me it was not that good honestly but still i’m gonna draw something special for you! If you win, of course 😉
Rules:
followers only
new followers are okay but pls don’t unfollow me after this ends
reblogs only count
no giveaway blogs pls
the winner will be selected randomly (by dice like i did with my last giveaway lol)
ONE WINNER will be selected on 25 Dec!
The winner will get a full-colored illustration Christmas or New Year related! Any OC or fanart is fine! one or two characters in the picture!
Just realized I never posted this in full on Tumblr. This was one of the earliest things I wrote for the DA fandom and gosh well it turns out IT IS PERTINENT AGAIN NOW.
Post-Trespasser, perhaps 1 month after. I also just wrote a direct response to the teaser trailer, which is here. ~3800 words. Read on AO3 below: tinyurl.com/solavellanhell2
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Lavellan sometimes came awake from dreams in which her lover watched her sadly from across an endless distance. If they were more than simple dreams, she could not say, for every time she reached for him, he vanished into nothing. Still she searched, and dreamed, and waited for a way to change the Dread Wolf’s heart. – Epilogue from Trespasser
When Elia finally finds him, he’s not what she expects. Or perhaps he’s just not what she hopes.
He glances over his cloaked shoulder at her. “You should stop searching for me,” he says.
His blunt words are a slap in the face. Pride, he calls himself; unapologetic arrogance, more like, but she supposes that’s not as pithy an appellation. He couldn’t be more dismissive unless he refused to look at her altogether.
She strides towards him, picking up speed until she’s running, sprinting, and still he watches her coolly from across the forest.
She runs, grass flowing into water melting into snow and ice and flowers beneath her bare feet. She ignores it all, her eyes fixed on the back of his neck.
Eventually Elia stops; no matter how long she runs or how fast, he remains out of reach across the sandy dunes. Finally he turns to face her, his hands clasped easily behind his back. “Stop looking,” he suggests. “Don’t waste the years that are left to you.”
The years that are left to you. He speaks of her eventual death like it means nothing to him. His presumption takes her breath away. He’s so damned cold and detached. This is not the man she knew – or thought she knew.
She thinks back to when they first met. He’d been humble, helpful, a touch pedantic but nevertheless fascinating in his talk of the Fade. His arrogance started bursting through shortly after, but she ignored it, accepted it as part and parcel of loving such an esoterically intelligent man. She’d point out his more pompous moments and he would smile, chuckle, pull her close, kiss her softly like they had all the time in the world.
It was an act.
She knows this now; of this she is certain. After he stepped through the eluvian, leaving her maimed and alone at the feet of a handful of petrified qunari, she hid from this truth for months. She denied it until long after he was gone, clinging to her rationalizations until they became poison. A potent combination of Cole’s patience, Dorian’s humour and Cassandra’s pragmatism eventually dragged her out from under the weight of her disillusionment.
In which FENRIS AND HAWKE FINALLY GET BACK TOGETHER YAYYYYY.
It is long, and hence this is just an excerpt. Find the full thing here: tinyurl.com/fenhawke4 (I’m still paranoid about Tumblr hiding external-link posts from searches. Is that still a thing? Does anyone know?)
This was not to say there weren’t other people around. In Minrathous, people were everywhere: a multitude of other slaves, arrogant magisters and simpering soporati trying desperately to gain their favour. Despite the constant presence of other people, Fenris was always alone.
It was the lyrium tattoos. They were glaringly unique, setting him apart from every other slave he’d ever seen. Worst of all, they marked him as Danarius’s favoured slave, and that favour – that hated, abhorrent favour – isolated him more completely than the white lines that marked his skin.
On Seheron, things were different. There was a brief time when Fenris thought he might belong somewhere, that he might find a place among the proud and bold warriors who materialized from the mist in much the same way that Fenris sank in and out of the Fade.
Then Danarius had come for him. And Fenris had killed those proud and bold warriors who’d sheltered him. And he’d realized that he should be alone. He carried death in his skin, harboured it in his hands and in the hatred in his heart, and it was better for him and for everyone else if he kept himself apart.
Then Fenris met Hawke, and Hawke was never alone.
The Fereldan mage liked to travel in a pack. She’d been accompanied by Anders, Aveline and Varric when she and Fenris had first met, and he still remembered his surprise when she’d welcomed him to her little group without a single qualm, despite the freshly eviscerated heart still dripping from his fist.
It wasn’t hard to see why Hawke was never alone. She was a beautiful woman, high-spirited and humorous and charming, and people flocked to her whether she liked it or not.
Fenris was no exception. For years, he spent his days with Hawke and her group. He participated in their card games and he drank with them, and he joined in with their teasing and he fought alongside them. But they were Hawke’s friends, not his.
For years, Fenris spent his evenings with Hawke. In truth, he spent more time with her than he should have; he was a danger, after all, an unknown quantity with a gap in his mind where his memories should be. So when he returned to his mansion each night, when he laid his head down in the dark, Fenris was alone. And that was as it should be.
As time crept on, Fenris came to know who Hawke was. He learned to spot the sadness under her shit-eating grin, and he learned to see the truth behind her self-deprecating jokes. He witnessed her family falling away one by one, and he watched as she attached herself unerringly to her friends, casually building herself a family from her merry band of misfits.
Hawke was never alone, and Fenris understood why. And somewhere along the way, while listening to her cheeky voice and studying her steady smile, Fenris realized that he didn’t want to be alone either.
The Sharper Edge of Love: Romance, Sex, and Fanfic 