FandomStar

Ell | He/Him | 20s | Fanfic Writer | FandomStar on AO3 | Queen @mercurys-oldfashioned-loverboy | Selfship @starry--love

[fandom-star]

Thedas Weekend

Currently open to Inquisition and Veilguard.

DAO

DA2

DAI Characters - Inquisitor Burim Adaar, Dorian Pavus, Varric Tethras, Cassandra Pentaghast, Josephine Montilyet Dynamics I want to write - Burim/Dorian

DAV Characters - Mern "Rook" Laidir, Emmrich Volkarin, Lace Harding, Bellara Lutare, Neve Gallus, Varric Tethras, Taash Dynamics I want to write - Mern/Emmrich

PROMPT LISTS:

Rook Codex

OC Codex (version for Burim if you'd like)

Partner Dance Prompts (unrelated to actually dancing)

50 Wordless Ways to Say "I Love You"

Gentle Care

Rook Story Time (not sure if I'll do these as prompts or of my own accord, feel free to send in anyway)

Touch Prompts

Protag references under read more

DA Protagonists

Burim Adaar (Inquisition)

Qunari/vashoth warrior; gentle giant, protective, overly trusting, thinks he's better at hiding his feelings from those he's close to than he actually is. Was very close to his parents, who died when he was a teenager.

Mern "Rook" Laidir (Veilguard)

(Tumblr butchered the quality on this for some reason, it's fine 🥲)

Dwarven Lords of Fortune rogue; scoundrel, exactly what you'd expect when you imagine "treasure hunter" (unless you imagine Indiana Jones), makes light of serious things to keep himself steady and calm in the face of them- but he knows how to read a room.

[stupiderat]

Love to the point of invention

Twitter | Tiktok | VGen

[unaarista]

uhhh.... fem Blurg. Blurginia? She's still just Blurg to me

[draconicdoodler]

Redraw of that scene from the deadly years (i think it’s from that one)

I don’t do enough full scenes with backgrounds for how much i actually like doing them.

[writingdose]

being a writer is fun

[elicxerr]

grace participates in casual racism

[tatert07s]

idk what else to add for this giant canvas. he’s just here for now

[halla-hunts-the-wolf]

Dalish Delights {1}

Modern AU - When Dorian Pavus needed a fresh start, he moved as far from his hometown as he could go, landing a teaching position at Conclave University. On his first day, he stops by the local coffee shop to pick up a few bribes treats. While he's there to get in his new colleagues' good graces, he meets a generous elf, who turns his bitter morning into something sweet.

Tags for this Chapter: Modern AU! Coffee Shop AU! Professor Dorian AU!, Slowburn, Fluff, Dad! Lavellan, Dorian's running from his past.

Word Count: 1.7k

A horn blared in the early morning quiet.   A new hire at the local university held out his hand as he raced across the street.   When he left home a few months ago, he knew he needed to get away. Away from everyone and everything he knew, but he hadn’t planned to land a job in a small historical town, with the most interesting landmarks being the church, the library, and the stripmall just off the highway.  He had seen more farms and Druffalo Herds in the past week than he had his entire life,  and his eclectic fashion-sense made him stand out like a sore thumb among the locals. 

He never dared to tone himself down, but he did feel a touch self-conscious as he approached a cafe in his brand new suit and polished dress shoes.  His mentor had landed him his last job, so he knew most of his colleagues before the actual work began.  He didn’t like being a stranger, the odd one out, or not knowing how the social spheres spun.  It was his first official day at Conclave University, as their new professor of Classic Literature.  He hoped to add some additional literary and writing classes to their curriculum in the coming semesters, but as the new fish in a much bigger pond, he needed to start small. 

As he approached Dalish Delights, someone opened the door coming out, knocking into him with the glass.  They nearly knocked him on his ass, and splashed the front of his suite with hot coffee as they darted forward to grab his arm. 

“Oh Maker,”  The Antivan accent flowed beautifully, throwing him off guard as she helped him keep his balance.   She wore a long skirt down to her ankles, and a lilac blouse with a quaint white collar that poked out from the neck.  Glasses hung from a golden chain around her neck.  “I am so sorry, I was in such a rush, I didn’t see you coming in.” 

He swallowed his haughty remark.  “Think nothing of it.”  

“I don’t recognize you,” She continued, not picking up on his eagerness to get past her and let the awkward encounter go.  “Are you new to Haven, or are you just passing through?” 

“New to town, I’m afraid.” He noticed the stain in his suit, and tried to rub it out. “I’m the latest hire at the university.  Professor Dorian Pavus, at your service.” 

“Yes!”  Her brown eyes glistened with excitement.  “I heard about you.  Well, I was hoping our meeting would be on better terms.”  She extended her hand to him.  “I’m Josephine Montilyet, Mayor of Haven.” 

“Oh, well, pardon me.”  Dorian took her hand, and brought it to his lips for a quick kiss. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mayor Josephine.” 

“The pleasure is all mine, professor.  How are you liking our humble city?” 

“I’ll admit, I haven’t had much time to explore all it has to offer.  But it is my first day at the university, and I’m excited to meet my students.” 

“I’m certain! We’ve many bright minds here.  As for exploring the town, the cafe is the best place to start.  Most of our residents stop in here, it’s a local hotspot.  You’ll meet all sorts, and hear if anything interesting is happening.” 

“Ah, I do have a knack for finding the best places.” 

She laughed.  “Well, I won’t keep you, professor.  Have a wonderful first day.” 

“Thank you, Mayor Montilyet.” 

Dorian was now running behind schedule, and if he wanted to buy sweets for his new colleagues, then he needed to hurry.  He checked the door, and finding it clear beyond the glass, he pulled it open and slipped inside. 

Dalish Delights had a website, but the pictures online didn’t do it justice.  He knew about the circular tables and armchairs, but the stringlights, bookshelves, hanging plants, and soft instrumental music came as a pleasant surprise.  Carpets stretched across the hardwood floor, zig-zagging across one another to cushion his steps.  The atmosphere, while cozy, had more energy than the rest of the town that early in the morning.  Most of the tables were occupied, with people crowded together, be they students, or local workers preparing for their day. 

Dorian didn’t look at any of them for long, lest they be friendly and try to drag him into conversation, as he approached the counter.  Where he expected to find a barista, he’s instead met by a boy, no more than six-years-old, who sat on a stool with a picture book.  He remained enamored with pictures of lizards until Dorian coughed. 

“Oh,” the boy blinked up at him with large green eyes.  “Sorry mister, I didn’t see you there.” He twisted on his stool to call toward the back room. “Babae, there’s someone up here!” 

“Coming, Da’len!” A soft vibrato called back.  A moment later, an elven man stepped out from what looked like a storage pantry.  He had long chestnut hair tied into a braid, which rested between his shoulderblades.  Although he wore a flannel and worn-in jeans, most of the outfit was covered by a flour-covered apron.  His sun-tanned skin was dusted in a layer of freckles, while his amber eyes shined.  He limped toward the counter, leaning his weight on a forearm crutch as he went.  

“Alec, go find your cousin,” He told his son as he approached.  “I think she’s out the back. I don’t want you to be late for school.” 

“She’s supposed to be helpin’ in here.” the boy groused as he closed his book and shimmied off the counter. 

“She had a bad morning, give her a break. Okay?” 

“Okay,” He picked up a backpack from the floor.  It too, had a plethora of multicolor lizards splattered across it.  Then he ran off, somewhere Dorian didn’t care to watch as his father regarded him. 

“Welcome to Dalish Delights, sorry to keep you waiting.  What can I get for you?” 

“Would you happen to know the regular orders for the professors at the University?”  

“Ah!”  He leaned against the counter. “You must be the new English Professor.” 

“Word gets around quickly, I see.” 

“We’re a community of gossipmongers, I’m afraid.”  He smiled, and Dorian took an arrow to the heart.  “Fortunately for you, I do know their regular orders.” 

“It must be my lucky day.” 

The elf behind the counter turned away,  and opened the glass display case, where plates of desserts lined three rows, each of them priced and named in little cards.  Most of the names were in elvish, but Dorian tallied the prices in his head as each pastry made it inside a cardboard box.  Then he studied the elf’s back as he turned to the coffee makers, paper cups in hand as he worked on creating both warm and iced blends.  

“And what about you, Professor-” 

“Pavus, Dorian Pavus.” 

“Professor Pavus,” The elf picked up a cup to write his name on it.  “May I call you Dorian?”

“Only if I get the pleasure of calling you by your first name too, Mister-” 

“Lavellan,” He grinned now, “Mahvir Lavellan.” 

“Mahvir.  Why don’t you surprise me? You wouldn’t be in the business of making coffee if you weren’t any good at it.” 

“Let’s hope I don’t disappoint.”  Mahvir turned back again,  his jaw tensed as he surveyed his serving station.   

From elsewhere, his son returned with who appeared to be his cousin, a moody-looking sixteen-year-old who stared into her phone, blocking out the world around her.  Dorian had been there once, too. 

“We’re heading to school, Babae.”  Alec slipped behind the counter to hug his father, just above his waistline in height, he squeezed him around the torso.  

Mahvir dropped his free hand into his son’s hair, ruffling his dark brown curls.  Then he turned to acknowledge his niece, who still refused to look up.  “Nellie, you need me, you call, okay? I’ll come pick you up.” 

“Yeah,” Her voice subdued, she finally looked at her uncle with the same amber eyes. “I’ll be fine.  Come on, Alec.” 

They left together, Mahvir watched them go before he presented a mysterious, unlabeled cup to Dorian.  “Uh, no allergies?” 

“Only to Stripweed.” 

“Noted.” 

Dorian reached across the counter for the box and drink carrier.  “So I owe you-” 

“Nothing, this is on the house.” 

He gaped. “No, this is too much.” 

“It isn’t.” Mahvir waved the notion away. “Consider it my welcome gift.   We don’t get new neighbors that often, and I’m sure I’ll be seeing you from here on.  It’s the least I could do.”  He squinted.  “Unless you have another coffee supplier? Is that a fresh stain on your shirt?” 

Dorian glanced down.  “Oh, no.  The mayor hit me with your door on her way out.” 

Mahvir slapped a hand over his face with a small groan. “Josie– and on your first day too!   Here, come behind the counter.” 

“What?” 

“Hurry, the longer we wait, the less it will work.” 

Dorian glanced over his shoulder.  Still the only one in line, he didn't feel bad about walking around the counter and stepping into the forbidden space.  He glimpsed the barista's hidden secrets, like a half-eaten coffee cake beneath the register,  and a note to his son with a list of important phone numbers.  

Mahvir met him halfway, impeding on his personal space with a cloth,with the faintest dab of dish soap on the top. The crisp scent of green apples tickled Dorian's nose as he instinctively leaned back. 

Mahvir froze, the cloth poised in the small space between them.  He looked up, his amber eyes slowly trailed from the stain to Dorian's face. “May I?” 

He swallowed. “You may.”

The cloth dabbed into his suit, renewing the wet spot.  The quick and gentle taps against his chest timed with Dorian’s quickened heartbeat.  He looked up, studying the tiled ceiling above his head as the elf took up most of the stain.  

“Hopefully it’ll dry by the time you make it to the university,”  Mahvir tossed the wet cloth over his shoulder.   “And it makes up for the rough start to your morning.” 

Dorian glanced at the free desserts and drinks that waited for him on the counter.  “You’ve already made up for it.  Thank you.”   

“Anytime,”  Mahvir’s eyes trailed Dorian as he wandered back to pick up his things from the other side.  “See you tomorrow?” 

Dorian picked up his drink, the surprise latte made especially for him, and took a sip.  The corner of his mustache curled upward.  “Of course,  I can’t start my day without this.” 

[sourdough-seal]

“how did you get into writing” girl nobody gets into writing. writing shows up one day at your door and gets into you

[orbitalmirror]

"how did you get into writing" girl i've been tormented by the visions since i was eight years old

[mooreaux]

A lovely Dorian up on my patreon since he’s been on my mind lately 🖤🐍

[digitaldiscipline]

This is the 85 year old creator of Roger Rabbit:

[cal3ris]

is this gonna get me fired you think

[catboytitty]

belongs in the post too in my opinion

[nastillda]

🦢⚜️ Shadow Dragon Week - The Cobbled Swan

[placeholddog]

they created the technology to make a 1:1 recreation of grace's cardigan

[transparentgentlemenmarker]

Les dances à travers le monde

[apollosdrunkenmixup]

my favourite thing about this is some are very traditional dances integral to that country/culture; and some are one individuals favourite move

and he approaches all of them with enthusiasm and a surprising amount of skill

[fakelawyerbug]

I've seen a bunch of "fandom etiquette" posts on my dash today and I'm going to say something that is maybe going to be unpopular but;

The absolutely pervasive mentality that unwanted criticism or critique shouldn't be given and should be ignored is why fans of color don't stay in fan spaces.

And I am not going to mince words here:

A lot of you are racist. A lot of your fan works are racist.

That might have been difficult to hear. And if it was, you should probably reflect on why that was.

"Fandom etiquette" has created a space where fans of color either bite our tongues and eventually leave or say something, get dogged on, and then eventually leave.

So much of "fandom etiquette" seems to be about insulating creatives from Feeling Bad and hostility to any kind of negative feedback is a pretty big contributor to why bigotry festers in these spaces.

[iridescentoracle]

#imo the potluck analogy applies- it would be rude to critique someone's icing technique at a potluck bc it wasn't as good as at the bakery #but if they had decorated their cupcakes w hate symbols it wouldn't be rude to tell them that's gross and gtfo #in fact it would be inappropriate to NOT say anything in that situation #or to complain that another guest who did point it out was 'ruining everyone's potluck' #and pointing out racism in fan works is 100% the second thing not the first! (via destructions-daughter)

[swamp-spirit]

There's also a tendency to conflate anyone who critiques general trends with bad faith randos. Like, there is fandom behavior that is 100% racist and should be talked about, but there are also trends of racist/sexist/ableist preferences.

If I say "I am uncomfortable with fandom's tendency to write trans men as feminine and submissive" I do not mean "I think every person who writes feminine submissive trans men should be chased with pitchforks". I don't even mean "any cis-person who writes feminine or submissive trans men should be chased with pitchforks". I mean "I would like writers to seriously think about why this is so common, why they write that, and if it fairly and genuinely engages with what it means to be a trans man, or if they just think it's hot when submissive people have vaginas and didn't want to write omegaverse of m/f".

Similarly, when people say "fandom is systemically less interested in black characters, less willing to give flat black characters rich fanon than flat white characters, and less interested in black characters in ships", the response is not to explain why you, personally, just happen to like popular white guy in that fanon. Your job is to look at yourself and ask if you tend to "just happen to be more interested" in the popular white guy across fandoms, be honest, and start unpacking that. Sometimes it's easier to love the flat character who's already getting 10,000 fics with headcanons and art and meta.

If somebody says "I wish there were more gluten free options at the potluck. I hate always showing up and not finding anything I can eat*", they are not asking you to throw your cake in the trash and weep. They do not want to hear your long speech about how actually this is your grandmother's recipe, and you've tried it with rice flour actually, but it just didn't work. You think about what you can do, and you listen to how they feel.

*The metaphor here not being that you can't read fic that isn't "good rep". The metaphor here is that it can be isolating to be in spaces where nobody is trying to make sure people like you are welcome.

[enigmaris]

I do think, for the Eridians monitoring the biodome, that Grace is the equivalent to the Devil's Hole Pupfish. This life form is constantly trying to die, it lives in an absurdly specific set of temps, pressures, and radiation conditons that are so inhospitable to life as you know it, as to to be comical.

It takes up an abusrd amount of land to keep healthy, to the point that you have to cordon off acres of land around the habitat to make sure nothing goes wrong.

As far as you know this could be only living specimen left alive, it is critically endangered. It lives for such a short amount of time too.

But like, come on, hes just a little guy.

Anytime a single eridian suggests that maybe the human doesnt need that many resources allocated towards its survival, those scientists thrum to create another facility that costs 12 billion dollars to build so that they can manufacture vanilla flavor for his nutrient shakes.

He's their little guy. Their weird, wet, unique, biologically inefficient guy.