He's a boxer, southeast asian (indigenous Bornean), doesn't look approachable but is actually really cool and friendly once you get to know him, has a potty mouth, rebellious, impulsive, determined.
For @enterthedreams of their amazing fanfic God Touched
PLEASE give it a read. So much love was put into the writing. It is simply AMAZING!
This is my first attempt at making a proper comic and I feel like I levelled up during the process, and I appreciate all you comic artists even more lol
Looking forward to making more. I've always wanted to make my own webtoon so if anyone has any insight or tips, I'm open to hearing them~
Art of Astarion smiling because he should always be smiling 💕
I really wanted to shine a spotlight on his adorable smile and I hope I did it justice lol (teeth are hard)
Also, I wanted my durge to be in a throuple with Halsin and Astarion initially but after playing more and learning more about Astarions past and how he feels about it yeah I can’t do it. He is too precious. Sorry Halsin!
To check out the speedpaint, please visit my Tiktok or Xiahongshu! Links here
Fun fact: this is the only version of this art out of all the ones that I posted on my other socials where Astarion has red eyes. I completely forgot to color them in lol.
The pages of this book—memory?—describe regret in a myriad of forms.
But none so poignant as that of...
"What if there had been a better choice?”
The message slipped between grasping fingers. Her thoughts were thick and heavy, hard to focus. She needed crispness and clarity.
Reaching up, Thenera clutched the jagged fangs of the wolf’s jaw necklace that hung between her breasts.
Sharp. Like a knife’s edge. Or a pair of pointed ears.
Solas’s eyes followed the movement, then his lips parted and all the color seemed to drain from his face. “How did you…?”
A prick of pain and she had them! The words from a Future-That-Never-Was. Leaning forward, Thenera released the amulet, took his face in her hands, and pressed her forehead to his.
The words rang, clear and true, from numbed lips:
“Felassan was right.”
Pairings: F!Lavellan/Solas | F!Lavellan/Cullen | Others to be added
Rating: Explicit (18+)
Word Count: 100K+ (WIP)
Author Note: An attempt at novelizing Dragon Age Inquisition alongside my longest and dearest friend NotYetWritten.
Amazing cover and tarot art was made by @ayamikasai <3
And the beautiful page break design is courtesy of @glasvera!
You can also find me over on BlueSky!
( Read on AO3 )
Next Chapter. / Masterlist. / Previous Chapter.
CHAPTER 59: ALL-CONSUMING, AND NEVER SATISFIED
Each was a high priest to one of the Old Gods. Each came to the ritual shrouded in secrecy, hiding their true name even from each other. They were competitors, you see. The Old Gods told them they would break into the Golden City and usurp the Maker’s throne…but only one of them could sit on the throne. Each assumed a title related to their role in casting the ritual. Some texts claim they had a leader: the High Priest of Dumat, called “Corypheus.”
—Excerpt from Questioning the Chant by Magister Vibius Agorian.
Corypheus.
The monster that had held Thenera aloft like a rag doll was what those in the blighted future had called the Elder One. A crazed, ancient darkspawn Magister who would birth the world of ruin that haunted Thenera’s nightmares – herald of a nesting ground of pain, despair, and red lyrium.
Agony flared where Corypheus’ iron grip closed around the Anchor, as though he meant to tear it from her very flesh. Blighted fire licked her palm, horrendously familiar in its torment, but the mark held fast.
It rejected him.
For all the monster’s power, for all his supposed superiority, he could not take it from her. In the face of his failure, Thenera screamed. It was a sound full of every shred of fear and fury she could muster. A rebellion of everything this monster was and threatened to bring upon them.
And then the mountain gave way.
The world coalesced into a dizzying blur of monstrous screams from blighted templars, a dragon’s distant road, the rumbling when the earth shuddered as the avalanche swallowed Haven whole. Fractured memories bled into a haze of poison and fevered delirium until all that remained was the familiar pull of unconsciousness.
In oblivion there was silence.
Yet, within that darkness, fragments of reality broke through. Snatches of awareness, thin as cracked glass, spilled into her fragile peace. Snow filled her mouth, froze the breath in her lungs, pressed against her eyes until the world was nothing but blinding white and biting cold.
She couldn’t move.
Couldn’t breathe.
And then the white gave way to the red.
In the time before the Future-That-Would-Not-Be, her dreams had been shadows at worst. They were brief flashes of memory and the looming threat of a growing blizzard.
But now?
Now Thenera was beset by scarlet dreams that tasted of iron and rot. By a fear so thick it clogged her throat and choked the air from desperate lungs that expanded in the vain hope of relief. By a heart that wouldn’t stop pounding like a caged rabbit slamming against the bone bars of its cage.
By eyes.
Eyes full of disdain, disappointment, anger, hatred.
Blessed Creators, so many eyes!
Those malevolent orbs blinked out one by one, but then there were the sounds.
Endless voices layered atop one another and clamoring to be heard. A cacophony screaming for an absolution that would never come. They echoed the refrain that had stalked her ever since she was a child:
You’ll bring misfortune upon us all!
A sharp slap cracked across Thenera’s cheek.
The chill of slick stone bled through cloth. Her body tried to compensate, shivers racing up and down her battered frame.
Another smack. Harder this time.
“Wake up, girl!”
Thenera’s eyes fluttered open, the world swimming in blurred shapes and shadows. Poison heat burned in her veins, skull pulsing with every heartbeat.
The world came into focus slowly, bit by bit. A mineshaft stretched around them in jagged lines of stone. The narrow walls, slick with condensation and veins of quartz, glimmered faintly in the torchless dark. Sounds of water dripping in a steady rhythm echoed somewhere deeper within. An overwhelming smell of mildew mixed with metal and dust turned her stomach.
“Get up, you lazy, ungrateful cretin!”
Fingers dug into her shoulder, shaking her until her teeth rattled. Then, from the shadows, loomed a horrendously familiar face – Deshanna Istimaethoriel Lavellan, expression carved in stark lines of fury.
“Up, damn you!”
Thenera lurched upright with a whimpering groan, every muscle screaming in protest. Above her, Deshanna’s expression shifted, fury giving way to a mask of disdain, and her lips curled in barely concealed contempt.
A rough yank pulled her to her feet. Another insistent tug got her moving. The air grew colder as the mine’s mouth gaped before them. Its frame was lit in pale moonslight, and the storm beyond snarled like a monster lying in wait.
The Anchor flared.
Green light seared across Thenera’s palm, spiking up her arm in jade-streaked veins. It wasn’t the steady pulse she’d long since grown accustomed to. This was raw and violent. A grievous wound reopened that felt as though it were splitting her palm in twain.
Sparks fell from her hand, hissing into the snow.
Why?!
“No,” she whispered hoarsely. Tears spilled hotly down frost-stung cheeks. “No, no, please! I never asked for this! I didn’t mean to, please don’t – “
Arms wrapped around her, and a hand smoothed down her hair. The touch was gentle, loving even. Thenera buried her face in the crook of the old woman’s neck, arms wrapped tight around her waist, and sobbed brokenly.
“Hush now, girl,” Deshanna crooned. “It’s alright. We’ll do what’s needful for the good of the clan.” But there was…something in the woman’s tone. “You will fulfill your duty, won’t you?”
A whisper of a horrid memory lay just out of reach.
What had she forgotten?
“Y-Yes, of course.” Thenera’s teeth chattered, and she shivered violently. “I’ve a-always done my duty to the clan.”
“Good girl.” The words were a kiss of breath against Thenera’s ear. Then something in the old woman’s voice abruptly changed – warmth gave way to frigid ceremony. It was a distance born of formality. “Then you’ll stand Mythal’s Vigil. To repent for your and your father's misdeeds.”
Thenera stiffened. “What?”
“It’s the price you pay for consorting with demons. May the All-Mother turn her gaze upon you, da’len, and judge you worthy of returning to us.” Another languid stroke through her hair. “Or else let the Dread Wolf claim what she will not.”
“No!” Animalistic panic ripped through Thenera. She thrashed, clawing at the arms holding her. “Please don’t! I won’t – whatever I’ve done, I promise I’ll never – !”
“Be still!” Deshanna snarled, voice hard and merciless. “Would you bring even more shame upon us than you already have?”
Thenera twisted hard, teeth bared, nails ripping and tearing at whatever she could reach. Bloody furrows opened in the Keeper’s forearms. But still Deshanna’s iron grip remained.
They toppled into the snow at the mine’s mouth, limbs tangling and the storm’s shriek rising above her own. She writhed like a trapped animal. Adrenaline gave her a surge of strength as she bucked to dislodge the old woman. Hands shoved at broad shoulders, tangled in silver hair and yanked violently.
Nothing worked.
With a snarl of fury, Deshanna wrenched a strip of leather from her belt. In a practiced motion, the old woman bound their wrists together and jerked it tight until the edge bit deep into Thenera’s skin. She screamed and fought, though every attempt to free herself only tightened the bonds further.
The world tilted on its axis. The wind howled, the bond upon her wrist burned, and her screams scattered into the storm.
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