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First upload of 2k19: Valiant Maiden: the Dread Wolf’s Lullaby Music and text by @5ftgarden. Arranged and performed by @dismalzelenka.
This is a lullaby to Solas’ daughter, Lily Lavellan. Technically it’s a rough little thing I threw together last winter while on break at work, but MuseScore crashed while I was working on @calwyne‘s submission so I had to take a break, lest I toss my laptop out the window. :S
Happy new year, fandom fam. ^3^
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY YOU FABULOUS WOMAN. Get some hugs from your hubby because he landed a fucking queen 💕💕💕
Aww, thanks friend! <3
TMI TUESDAY: What's up?
Hi Garden!!
I am having wine. I fixed 4 bugs at work today, and need to deploy them all tomorrow, which will be... interesting, since the team we support have one of their busiest weeks here around thanksgiving.
My SIL and her 3 kids are visiting, so we have 5 kids in the house. they are lovely, but it is BUSY.
We went out for sushi for dinner and it was awesome.
I have too many fanfics to write and read.
HOW ARE YOU??
Uuuuh bragging rights??? I finally got my diagnosis, put on the right meds, and feel more inspired than I have in years! Turned out lots of sketches over the past week. Progress!
Oh my gosh. Garden!!! This is great news! Isn’t it just the best most validating and wonderful feeling when you finally get that accurate diagnosis? I am so so happy that this is happening for you, you deserve all the happiness and inspiration in the world! It must feel so amazing to be creating so much art, I love you and you’re fantastic and I hope your life keeps getting better and better!
Brag to me!!
Ok I am seriously in need of some quality Varigold angst. so, without further ado: "Don't walk away from me!"
You wish is my demand. This is real early relationship, just after Marigolds.
For @dadrunkwriting
Varric’s new and improved crossbow weighed heavily on hisback as he snuck off to the docks in the dead of night. Getting past his ownkeep guards was child’s play—that should probably concern him more than it did.He made his way into Lowtown, giving the Hanged Man a wide berth, listeningintently to the sounds of the night. He stayed alert, though not tense, wheneverhe heard people, but he passed no trouble makers; only drunks, a few homeless,and a patrol of city guards he easily evaded so that he would not be recognized.
Right before he turned towards the docks he heard a singleset of footsteps that sounded like a woman’s. A very brave woman, to be out aloneat this hour. He dismissed her with a silent prayer that she’d make it homeokay, and went about his way.
“Varric?” Hestopped dead in his tracks. “Varric, whatare you doing here? Where are you headed?”
Hmm... DWC prompt: Tethraghast “Keep your eyes on me.” Something vaguely angsty, possibly with one of them being hurt?
“-ker. Just – ” She’s trying tolisten to what he’s saying but there’s a noise in her head that isn’t hisvoice. “… Eyes on me.” It’s a rowdy thing, of swirling cacophony, louder colors.It’s all a blur, a pain, an ache in her side the likes of which she’s neverfelt before. “Cassandra!” That gets her attention more than anything else could.When was the last time he ever said her name? That’s how she knows it must bebad. She pushes herself up on all fours, sees the blood that’s pooled beneathher.
She leans back, resting againstrock, pressing her hands against it. It’s wet, uncomfortably warm. Blood seepsthrough her fingers, drools down the back of her hands. Varric is standing infront of her, firing arrow after arrow, finding each demon with deadlyaccuracy. How did this happen? She was supposed to be defending him. She wasthe shield. He’s stepping back as more and more approach, and she looks for hersword.
She finds it nearby, reachesout to hold it in a blood slick hand. She would not die on her back. She wasCassandra fucking Pentaghast, and the Maker could kindly shove it. Shestruggles to her feet, ignoring the screaming ache in her muscles, the stabbingpain in her bones. She uses the rock wall as leverage, leans against it as sheraises her sword. “Well, Seeker, we had some fun, didn’t we?” Varric says,casting a quick grin over his shoulder.
“Yes,” she says, “we did.”Varric unclips the last of the grenades from his belt, throws it into thecrowd. He steps back, towards her, pulls her down by the collar. There’s notime for romance, for tenderness. It’s all harsh desperation, a last act, aconfirmation of what they already know. She tastes like iron. There’s somethinglike sweetness on his tongue.
“Ohhhh! What the fuck Varric!That better be going in your book!” They break apart instantly, Varric whirlingaround to see Hawke throw a casual fireball, the Inquisitor and The Iron Bullheading towards the crowd of demons. “I will never unsee that, I hope you knowthat,” she says as she makes her way towards Cassandra, the smuggest grin onher face. Her hand lights up with a gentle glow, her touch kind as she pressesit against Cassandra’s wound.
“I hate you,” Varric says as heslumps to the ground, Bianca in his arms. Hawke makes a mocking wounded noise,then imitates loud smooching at him, lips smacking together. It’s almost ablessing when Cassandra feels herself passing out.
@dadrunkwriting
@5ftgarden replied to your post “The Dead Season: Chapter 51”
i need to binge the chapters i've missed now that i have an empty schedule.... mwahahahahahaha
i miss you bb!!
"Get me"
For @dadrunkwriting. This is probably my last one for the night, ‘cause I’m falling asleep, and am apparently struggling with articulating my thoughts properly…and it’s not because of the alcohol.
Exploring a modern-day zombie apocalypse AU for this.
Find more of this particular prompt list here.
“Shit! Fuck! Dammit!”
Although normally mild-mannered, maintaining propriety was the last thing on Sylvia Hawke’s mind. Her breath came out in short bursts as she ran down the hallway of the abandoned packaging plant. She needed somewhere to hide. Not for long. Just long enough to reload her pistols and catch her breath.
Dammit, she should have let Varric tag along with her. At least he was a better shot.
Just ahead, she saw a door hanging slightly ajar. Relief swept through her, and she propelled herself forward the last few feet to safety. She spared but a moment to make sure the room was clear of abominations and Reds, and then ducked inside. She slammed the door behind her before she finally allowed herself to double over, hands on knees as she tried to catch her breath.
Once she felt like she no longer had a stitch in her side, Sylvia straightened up and looked around the room. It appeared to have once been a managerial office, based on the filing cabinets shoved up against one wall and the abandoned desk opposite them. She paused for a moment, tempted to check for any inkling of abandoned supplies within the various drawers at her disposal, but she shook her head. The sooner she got out of the building, the better.
She crossed to the desk and took her pistols out of the holsters strapped to her thighs. She leaned against it as she worked on reloading the clips, all while keeping her ears trained on the door, listening for the approach of any sort of undead creature.
Once she had reloaded, she crossed back to the door, actually pressing herself against it with bated breath. She still hadn’t heard anything, and that made her nervous.
Sure, the undead were slow, but some of them must have followed her to this part of the building.
Still, she couldn’t stay here forever. Letting out a sigh, Sylvia gathered one of her pistols into her hand - keeping the other holstered as back-up - and slowly eased the door open, poking her head out into the hall.
It was surprisingly empty.
While that simple fact still made Sylvia uneasy, another part of her brain reminded her not to look a gift horse in the mouth. She slid out of the office, and turned down the hallway, intending to keep going in the opposite direction from which she’d come.
The further along she went, the more uneasy she felt. The north side of the packaging plant had felt like it had been crawling with zombies, but now it felt devoid of anyone or anything besides herself.
Sylvia finally arrived in the docking bay, and let out another stream of curses. Two Reds were blocking the only open bay door, and one was of the behemoth variety. Before she could duck back into the plant, the behemoth caught sight of her, and began shuffling in her direction. She backed up into the door she had just walked through, glancing between the two zombies, trying to work out her options.
She could maybe skirt around the behemoth - they were large, so they were heavy hitters, but if you were fast enough, their large size meant that there were slow.
But the other one looked like a shadow variety of Red, and while they weren’t necessarily fast, there were faster than other zombies. Besides that, they often mutated to the point that the corrupted lyrium grew in the place of their arms, sharpened to a deadly point.
With the two being so close to each other, she feared that she would run into one or the other regardless of which direction she went to try and avoid them. Going back into the packaging plant wasn’t exactly an option, either, because she didn’t want to be stuck trying to spend the night there when it was still full of zombies. And if she wasn’t back to the camp by nightfall, she ran the risk of being left behind entirely.
She half-heartedly lifted her pistol, knowing that the easiest way out of this would be to just shoot the Maker-damned things. But noise attracted them, and ammo was hard to come by. Truth be told, firing her pistol had been why she had been swarmed in the first place. She was loathe to repeat the same mistake, but if she wanted any semblance of a chance…
Sylvia raised her pistol and aimed at the behemoth’s head, before she squeezed off a round. When the beast started to stumble, she made a dash for the exit. However, she misjudged the position and speed of the shadow, and let out a shriek when it lurched towards her and blocked her path.
She jumped back at it slashed towards her with one of its lyrium arms, and lifted her pistol to fire off another shot.
Before she pulled the trigger, another gunshot rang out.
As the shadow crumpled to the ground, Sylvia looked towards the open bay door to see who had fired the shot.
A young elven man stood there…glaring at her. “Do you have a death wish?” he demanded in a gruff voice.
Sylvia blinked, a little taken aback. To her knowledge, she didn’t know him. So why was he acting like her coming to the packaging plant was a personal offense?
When she didn’t answer him, he scoffed a little, and turned away from her.
“Hey! What’s your name?” she called to him.
“You should go before more of them show up.”
Well, someone sure didn’t like smalltalk.
“I have others with me,” she continued. “We’re getting ready to leave the area tomorrow, and we could always use another pair of hands to help with supply runs.”
“How do you even know you can trust me?”
“I don’t. But I’m willing to take a chance. After all, I think a group of people is more likely to survive that someone toughing it out on their own.”
“That optimism may get you killed.”
“Fine. Then look at is as a thank-you for saving me just now.”
He was silent.
“You can’t deny it.”
After a pause, he sighed, and turned back to her. “My name’s Fenris.”
She smiled. “Sylvia.”
He nodded a little. “Nice to meet you. Now, where’s this group of yours?”
