Maybe They Should’ve Left Merenven In The Fade

PROMPTS FOR PEOPLE WHO AREN'T USED TO KINDNESS *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary

what are you doing?

i can handle that myself, you know.

you didn't have to go out of your way to take care of me.

i'm not used to this. this caring thing.

thank you. don't ever do that again.

i thought you hated me, to be honest.

i didn't ask you to love me!

no one's ever actually just... sat down and listened to me.

i didn't think people like you existed.

is this normal for you? going out of your way like this?

i told you i had it handled. you didn't have to bother.

i... should probably thank you for that.

i don't know what to say. this has never happened before.

wait, that's mine. you fixed it?

you did all of this... for me?

that was the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me.

i'm kinda at a loss for words.

i wasn't expecting this from you.

you did all this for me?

i had it under control.

when did this happen?

how long were you planning this?

i'm not sure what to say. i'm not used to this.

i owe you one.

that was... very kind of you. thank you.

i'm just not used to people going out of their way to help me.

usually people just look the other way, but you actually care.

this is weird. is this what caring about someone feels like?

i could have handled it.

this must have taken you forever to arrange. and you did it all for me?

it would be easier in the long run if we went our separate ways.

i hate being in other peoples' debts.

i didn't want this to happen.

people around me don't last very long.

i feel like i'm screaming and screaming and no one hears me.

i'm in your debt.

how did you find that? i lost that ages ago.

you actually... listened to me?

no one's ever paid attention.

no one's ever put that much time in effort into something for me.

when did i say that?

i didn't ask you to care about me!

i'm easily missed. people don't pay attention to me.

i'm invisible most of the time.

it's easier for people to look the other way.

do you do this often? help people?

i'm surprised you're still here.

if you're expecting something in return, forget about it.

you came back?

why do you care about me so much?

i'm a lost cause. you should just forget about me.

what's the use? there's no point.

i don't even celebrate my birthday. no one cares.

you can't just make someone care about you.

i thought you left.

what is it about me that has you so worked up?

you're making a big deal out of nothing.

thanks for patching me up.

you... brought this here for me?

but i didn't ask for this! i didn't ask for any of this!

stop smiling at me like that.

oh noooo🥵

Silly Tag

Thank you for tagging me @serensama, sorry it took so long!

Basically, from what I gathered, you post a snippet of your writing that you deem silly or funny to share.

Here's mine:

“Don’t wanna alarm you, Hawke, but I think you’ve been stabbed.” Varric’s voice grated against Hawke’s ears and she winced. Even though he sounded a thousand yards away, she could feel the weight of his calloused hand wrapped around her aching wrist still. “I-I don’t feel anything,” she replied breathlessly. It was the truth too. She was either high on adrenaline or something was terribly wrong. “Well… I can see the dagger in your side, Hawke. Want me to yank it out?” Two unified voices yelled out ‘NO!’ at the exact same time. It was almost uncanny. Penelope’s head was swimming as she tried to focus her gaze on Fenris. Nothing else mattered, only that Fenris was here. Him and his deep-set frown and pinched eyebrows. The way his lyrium markings pulsed weakly, in and out, in and out. He was worrying his bottom lip, a habit he picked up after spending a lot of time with Hawke. Was he staring at her? Did he still think she was beautiful? “You can’t just pull a knife out, Varric! She’ll deflate like a gross blood balloon!” Isabela’s voice felt like sandpaper against Hawke’s ears and it snapped her back to the present.

The scenario isn't funny, but how they react is hilarious

Tagging: @bubblecat-co, @mercars-musings, @galluslonging, & @veilguardiumleviosa!

posting your fic on AO3 like

Hi! 8 or 17 for the Rook story time prompts?

First of all I owe you my life your prompts are DELIGHTFUL! Second of all I hope you enjoy! I'm sorry these take so long but am so grateful for you taking the time to send some in!! I had so much fun writing <3

8. A time Rook argued with someone they cared about Echo de Riva (because I'm on a tear about Viago and Rook's relationship right now)

“You will not continue your training–you will not be a Crow.” 

Viago’s words struck Echo as truly as a physical blow. She flinched, staggered back a step. Her skin burned where it pulled taut over fresh, still healing wounds. 

“What?” She hated how small her voice sounded. Like she was eight again, instead of a woman nearly grown.

“It’s too dangerous. You–” Viago bit off his next words, looking away. When he continued, his voice was measured again, low. “You cannot continue.”

“Vi, of course it’s dangerous–you’re the one who says ‘every job is your life risked, doubly if you’re an idiot about it.’” She hoped the sneering Viago impression covered the actual desperation slipping through the cracks. She had to continue her training; what else could she even be? 

“And it’s infinitely more dangerous now! Look at yourself–” he rounded on her, gesturing sharply. “You’re barely standing. Should you have even left your bed?” 

Echo grit her teeth in answer, chin lifting in defiance of her slight sway and copious amounts of visible bandaging. 

“You can’t control your magic, Echo,” Viago continued, the word like a curse. “It will kill you.” 

“No! I can-I can learn! There are mages in the Crows, Heir has probably trained others–I’ll learn, Viago. I can control it,” She reached for him, grasping at his arm. “Please, Vi. I’ll– I will be a credit to de Riva. I swear it.” 

He studied her then, gaze hard underneath his furrowed brow. An eternity passed, her cold hand gripping Viago’s arm, warm even though his leathers. She watched silently as a host of emotions played behind Viago’s eyes, and wished not for the first time she could somehow hear his thoughts. They stared until finally, Viago blinked. Sighed. Echo’s heart soared–surely he was about to relent, realize he was wrong, though he’d never apologize, and tell her she could still be an asset to the House–when his gaze fell to her arm, freshly bandaged and yet already darkened with ruddy, oozing blood. 

“No,” he ground out. “I forbid it.” She hated him for a moment, then. Hated the gentle way he removed her hand, stepped back from her reach. Hated the glimpse of pain that crossed his brow as he turned his back on her. 

“Vi–” she started, before Teia stepped in front of her. She’d materialized from the shadows; Echo had a sneaking suspicion she’d been there the entire time. 

“Not now,” she spoke gently, hushed, though her expression brooked no argument. “Come and rest.” 

As Teia led her back towards her rooms, Echo released a gasping breath, not realizing how it had caught and held as she and Viago had stared each other down. Her body ached, phantom lightning racing across her skin again. She shuddered and immediately Teia’s arm wound carefully around her, ready to catch or support her weight if needed. 

They slowly shuffled up the grand staircase this way, pausing every now and again for Echo to squeeze her eyes tight against another bout of the burning, stinging, searing pain. It only worsened as the adrenaline from the argument waned; by the time they reached Echo’s rooms she went immediately and willingly to her bed. Didn’t say a word as Teia helped her lay down, carefully tucking her in. Again, she felt as if she were eight again–still fragile, still small, still terrified to be left alone, jumping at every shadow as if every moment were her last. 

“Teia–” she began before a wave of despair choked her. She had to become a Crow. She had to. It was all she’d dreamed about, even before Viago had taken her in, and now…Now it was the only way to repay him for all that he’d done. She had to become a Crow, to honor the House that had saved her, provided for her. She had to become a Crow, like her mother and father before her, had to make them proud. Had to make Viago proud. She turned her face slightly away from Teia, unwilling to show the tears building behind her eyes. She willed her voice steady as she asked, “Do you think he means it?” 

“I…” Teia pressed her lips into a thin line. A beat of silence, then a sigh. “I think you scared him, today.”

She went to protest, head whipping around too fast and sending another shockwave of pain through her body. She cleared her throat instead and Teia sighed again. 

“You didn’t see it, Echo. You were up, fighting one moment, holding your own, then suddenly surrounded the next. Then Vi had barely taken a step towards you when we were all thrown back by–”

“By the explosion.” Not quite a question, but close. Echo didn’t remember much from earlier–just the feeling of overwhelm at being surrounded, the adrenaline coursing through her and then the sudden primal surge that had sprung forward in arcing flashes of lightning. Then blackness. Nothing. 

When she’d next awoken it was hazily, to the ministrations of healers, clustered around her and talking too quickly for her brain to register anything as words. Then blackness had taken her under again, until just a little while ago when she’d awoken to a quiet room and thought foolishly to seek Viago out. 

“...Yes. By the explosion. Your…magic, manifesting. The light was so bright and it cracked through the air like, like real lightning. From the sky. All those mercenaries around you were fried and there you were at the center. You collapsed in a pool of blood–yours, we’d come to find out. The lightning hadn’t split the sky, Echo, but you.”

Echo absorbed this. Frowned. “But I survived. And I meant it, Teia. I know I can learn to control it.”

“You barely survived,” Teia’s tone bordered on reproach, “But it’s true. You can learn. It’s a little odd for magic to manifest late, but not unheard of. And I do know Heir can help.”

“Then why would Viago say that?!” She couldn’t temper her shout in time, but found she didn’t actually care if it did echo all the way to Viago’s ears. Teia sighed, rubbing her forehead exasperatedly. 

“Look, I won’t speak for Vi. But I’ve not seen him afraid like that in…in a long time. Just don’t forget who we’re talking about, dove,” Her voice softened around the pet name. “He’s lost a lot, most of which was before he was even born, and none of it due to his own fault–no matter how he feels it to be. Forgive him if he is…extreme in his reaction, I think he only wants to protect you.” 

Echo absorbed this too, remaining quiet. Teia sighed again, her footsteps retreating on a final promise. “I’ll talk to him.”

—

Echo sunk further into her plush pillows as Teia left, mind still racing. She’d learned a lot about Viago over the years; She knew of the title he was denied, the choice thrust upon his mother, and the exile of family to cover the sins of the wealthiest. She knew how he’d lost his mother, how he’d fought every inch of his way up to Fifth Talon. She knew too, he’d invested a lot into her as an asset for House de Riva. An asset…she blew out a frustrated gust of air. 

Idiot. She knew he cared for her. She wasn’t stupid, just surprised at the strength of it. Before, she thought herself more asset than ward, but now…

Exhaustion pulled at her, her eyes growing heavier with each blink, until she finally succumbed, letting the darkness drag her down. Dreamless, she slept so deeply she didn’t hear the quiet scrape of a chair beside her bedside, nor felt the hand–ungloved–that reached out to hold hers, deep into the night.

impure thoughts today surroundingthe song Rule #34 by Fish in a Birdcage and some dark Emmrich vibes like if u agree

mr thrill of the chase

Companions: that Cole thing is creepy and probably a demon you should get rid of him

Inquisitor:

Prompt List

Welcome to the landing zone for my @thedasweekend prompt list! I'll keep it updated whenever something new or different strikes my fancy, but for now here we go!

I mainly write Veilguard and Inquisition (but won't turn away a DAII or DAO prompt), and I love to write angst, slice of life, fluff, hurt/comfort, found family, etc. I also love a character study and diving into Thedas lore! Feel free to send me anything from specific prompts to song lyrics or even just ~~vibes~~

Current top ask game pick: Any!

Full list of the OCs and pairings you can request are below the cut as well as a growing collection of all fave ask games!

VEILGUARD Echo de Riva (Emmrich) Esperanza "Esper" de Riva (Lucanis) Melisandre "Mel" Mercar (Neve) Cyrus Mercar (Neve) Amara Thorne (Davrin) Love Ingellvar (Emmrich) Cas Laidir (Taash) Victory "Vic" Laidir (Emmrich)

Fen'an Aldwir (Bellara) Other Veilguard pairings I'll write: Taash/Harding Bellara/Neve Emmrich/Strife

INQUISITION Lyra Lavellan (Solas) Leonardo "Leo" Trevelyan (Dorian) Wisp Lavellan (Iron Bull) Andromeda "Andy" Trevelyan (Cullen) Faolan Lavellan (Cassandra) Avi Trevelyan (Josephine)

Other Inquisition pairings I'll write:

Dorian Pavus/The Iron Bull

DAII Marian Hawke (Anders) Garrett Hawke (Fenris) Tryst Hawke (Isabella)

ORIGINS Mateo "Teo" Cousland (Zevran) Luna Surana (Alistair) Violet Amell (Leliana)

ASK GAMES Rook Codex Rook Storytime Rook Literary Device The Horrors Rook Tarot

Among The Multitudes

(Read on AO3)

Written for the Dragon Age Big Bang 2025. Illustrated by @the-font-bandit

M. 41,111 words.

Summary:

The first word Emmrich learnt to read was Johanna.

His eyes followed the sharp edges of each letter, cutting across his right wrist, staking some wordless claim, the ink as dark as blood. Each edge was distinct from the other, downward strokes hard and impressive, straightforward. Emmrich traced each letter — wrote it out, charcoal on paper, on leaves, fingers in the dirt, until they were identical to his skin, until he knew Johanna by heart.

Then a second name came after, months later, much more surprising than the first.

On his left wrist, all curving swirls, rounded letters, and sweeping lines, much more difficult for his young eyes to follow. The H molded into the A, pressed even closer to the N, as if written in a hurry, ink so light, the word untethered to its writer. Mummy had to help him decipher it, holding him close, her long dark hair plaited, the tips of it tickling his nose. She laughed, bright and tinkling — “Your soulmate has terrible handwriting, my love,” — before settling on Thana. Death.

—

Or, one Emmrich Volkarin, bearer of two soul marks, and a lifetime's exploration of the different faces of love and heartbreak.

Preview under the cut

Emmrich wondered — not for the first time in the last few years — what his soulmates were like.

His thoughts often strayed to them when he accompanied his mother to one of the manors she worked at. Early mornings kneading dough, late evenings cooking for some noble's party, sweat on her brow from the heat of the kitchens. Or when he would stay with his father at the shop, the scent of meat in the air, the rhythmic sound of a knife slicing through flesh, through bone, on a wooden block, the occasional greeting to a customer.

Were their parents like his? Did they go to market days together — spices and fruits and vegetables at every stall? Were there quiet smiles, lingering touches when passing by, eyes that lit up whenever they saw each other? Days off and summer picnics, shaky legs skating on the Minanter in the winter?

(Would there be with him when they grow up? Hands in his, laughter that rang through streets and love that woke with the sun and reminded him of his parents. He imagined Johanna with a grin as sharp as their name on his wrist, and Thana with soft, light hands, fingers making swirling patterns in the air.)

Did they like to read as much as he did?

The Chantry near his home was a tiny, modest thing — very different from the one closer to the heart of Nevarra City, with its tall towers and gleaming windows, always smelling like incense and myrrh — and Mother Dellah said he was turning into quite a studious learner, mind expanding in leaps and bounds. The Chantry opened their doors to the neighborhood children on Sundays, providing lessons on arithmetic, history, religion, and all sorts of other things. Emmrich soaked it all in like a sponge.

(Would they sit and read with him? He hoped they would, pointing to their favorite passages, legs knocking together. Perhaps in the Chantry library, right where he was now, whispering and giggling until Mother Dellah scolded them and kicked them out. He wouldn’t mind it that much as long as they were with him — the three of them would find something else to do together — together — always together.)

(Read on AO3)