#ashetrashe

[thevikingwoman]

DWC: the way you said I love you; as a goodbye?

Hi! four years later, and I’m filling this prompt. Sadness, for @dadrunkwriting

Fandom: Dragon Age. Words: 399

Iwyn Lavellan X Solas | Inqusition end | angst/romanceRating: G. Sadness, angst, Solas being Solas

Goodbye

He has a plan. They will fightCorypheus, he will take the orb, and he will leave. He’s sure it will go well. Iwyn,the Inquisitor is well prepared, her plan is solid and her allies are competent.In the confusion of battle, he should have no trouble slipping away.

He has a plan, and he will leave.

Solas sighs, and looks at themural before him. Unfinished, but it’s how it has to be. He reaches for heroutline, where he’s traced her, victorious.

Ar lath ma.

He cannot say it, and it’s no use.He’s made his choice.

His desk is messy, paper and booksand half eaten piece of bread. He tosses the bread and straightens the papers.Considers the books. Should he bring them? How neat can make his place withoutarising suspicion. He moves a few papers back, haphazardly over the table. Findsan important one, and shoves it in his pack.

His eyes dart around, and up. Noone is watching, no one is leaning over the railing.

Solas sits at his desk. He can’tleave her like this, not without a word. He find sa blank piece of paper, hispen. He knows she will find it.

Vhenan.

I first of allmust tell you I am sorry. I am certain you have won by now, and I have left. Iapologize for my departure, and how things are between us, but it is better in thelong run.

I hope you findhappiness and peace wherever you go, no matter what you do next.

There arethings I cannot tell you, things that will be made clear later. I wish… I wishit was not so.

Ir ablelas,vhenan.

Goodbye, Iwyn.

Ar lath ma,

-         Solas

 He folds the letter, and places itin the drawer. Takes it out and writes her name across it. He wonders if he shouldput it on her desk, or leave it in his room. No, on his desk is better. Shewill come here, after. When he’s left her, victorious and alone.

It’s better that way. She isstrong, and he shouldn’t interfere.

He loves her, and he needs toleave.

His hands tremble.

I love you, goodbye.

It serves no purpose. He hasalready hurt her enough. The letter turns to ash in his hands.

He has a plan, and he will leave.

[eemamminy-art]

ask thinggg! 12,13, 24, 37, 38?

12. Most frustrating game to play?

This was hard to think of because generally if a game is genuinely frustrating I don’t want to continue playing it, but uhhh I would say Jak 2! I really enjoyed the first Jak and Daxter and I was invested in the story, but the gameplay in Jak 2 was just impossibly hard. Idk, maybe it was just me because I played it at a time when I was relatively new to platformers? But it just was impossible for me! I ended up watching a youtuber play the rest of the story and all of Jak 3 ;_;

I can think of other games that frustrated me in terms of like.. where the story went or maybe the potential in it that was wasted, or other more conceptual things like that, but as far as gameplay being frustrating I think that one was the worst! Assassin’s Creed Rogue was also up there in terms of being much harder than the previous game in its series too, but I was at least able to complete the entire story, just not get 100% on it ;3;

13. Comfort game?

This is going to sound weird probably, but Heavy Rain. I first played it when my dad was diagnosed with cancer, and if you don’t know, the plot revolves around a father who is grieving one child and is going to extreme lengths to save the other, so it felt idk.. Not so much related but it had a strong emotional resonance in me? I used to just sit in the dark of my room and replay the prologue chapter over and over-- which is just like, a normal day in the life of their family before everything goes to shit. I played the entirety of the game many times too but that chapter was my go-to when I was feeling really miserable.

24. Favorite characters from a game?

This is another hard one to answer because there’s so many characters I love!! But I think I will narrow this down to like.. characters that I strongly relate to and/or helped me get through/process some awful period in my life. In no particular order...

- Ethan Mars (Heavy Rain) - Liara T’soni (Mass Effect) - Father (Fallout 4) - Zeke Dunbar (inFamous) - Estinien Wyrmblood (Final Fantasy XIV) - Yuna (Final Fantasy X) - Squall Leonhart (Final Fantasy VIII) - Geralt of Rivia (The Witcher) - Chloe Price (Life is Strange)

I’m sensing a theme here with a lot of.. characters processing grief 😅  anyway!

37. Are you a completionist?

Ohhh absolutely! I’m not as fanatical about it now as I used to be, I think just because I don’t have much free time the older I get. But even before trophies were a thing I was obsessed with doing 100% of everything in games, and even made self-imposed challenges in my favorite games! I have a very hard time letting myself relax so I have to give myself goals to work toward or else I feel guilty for not being productive.

38. Has anything made you ragequit a game?

I don’t like to lose ahaha it is very rare that I will quit a game because I’m doing badly! I usually just keep going and getting more tilted :’) but I do tend to ragequit games when they crash frequently! Fallout New Vegas and Skyrim are good examples of that, and more recently Cyberpunk 2077. I do eventually go back and finish them of course (does one ever really “finish” skyrim though?) but usually if I take an unplanned break from playing a game it is due to a game-ending error.

Thanks for sending so many of these and letting me ramble!! :D

[tsunami-socks]

Google is beginning to tire of my insistence on re-reading this fic at least once a month (that’s all i can handle because the ending makes me sob literally every time and i need time to recover after each re-read) (but it’s worth it because of how fucking amazing this fic is)

[fishbians]

@ashetrashe

[ohnoafterlaughs]

your moicy art is uhhhhhhh amazing every time i see it on my dash i just ***heart eyes*** at it for like the rest of the day thank you so much for sharing!!!

Thank you so much!! 

[bitchesofostwick]

DWC!!! hidden tavern, dawn, cold hands

thank you! for @dadrunkwriting :) looks like this one calls for some blight-era alistair and emilia!

***

“I think,” says Alistair, speaking low under the lively din of the tavern, “that they probably know.”

They’ve been traveling for over a week on the road, through snow and sleet and chilly camps and early mornings and early bedtimes–all well and good that way; it’s easy for Emilia to sneak into Alistair’s tent under cover of snowfall and nightfall alike and vice versa without their friends noticing. Or at least, that’s what she thought. Alistair–as she pushed away his arm when it reached around her shoulders for the third time–seemed to think differently.

“They don’t know,” Emilia mutters, “and I’d like to keep it that way.”

She’d thought Wynne had given the two of them a curious look from behind her mug of tea a couple tables away, but the mage quickly continues with her breakfast and resumes her conversation with Oghren over the differences between northern Fereldan ales and southern Fereldan lagers. Zevran is far too busy listening to some Orlesian tale Leliana is telling, and Morrigan is far too busy rolling her eyes over it. Sten stands alone at the entrance of the tavern, nearly blocking out any hint of the morning’s sunrise from the windows. If anyone knows, I suppose I wouldn’t mind it being Sten, she thinks, because Sten wouldn’t care, wouldn’t pester her with questions or unwanted input she knew the others would, like Emilia, is this the right decision? from Wynne or Emilia, Alistair is revolting from Morrigan or Emilia, I will be around if he gets too boring for you from Zevran.

She rubs her hands together, trying to shake the morning chill from her fingers, before giving up and wrapping them around her half-full mug of tea.

“Fletcher knows about us,” Alistair points out, and she peeks underneath the table where the mabari sleeps at their feet before shooting him a tired look.

“Yes,” she concedes. “Fletcher knows.”

Of course he knows. He followed her the night before from the tiny room she’d shared with Morrigan across the hall of the tavern’s second floor and into Alistair’s room, and they’d had no choice but to let him sleep at the foot of the bed or else risk waking the others up trying to get him to go back. Truth be told, she shouldn’t have snuck into his room anyway, not even just to cuddle and sleep next to one another as they did–the risk of being found out was too great in a little tavern like this–but the way he’d spoken to her at dinner…but I’ll miss you, Em, and what if you get cold and I can’t hold you? and especially I don’t remember what it’s like sleeping without you made her cheeks turn rosy and her heart flutter, and she couldn’t say no to him because denying him was denying herself all the same. So across the drafty hall she’d gone, Fletcher at her heels.

“But,” she continues, reluctantly pulling her still-cold fingers from her mug just so she can spread butter over one of the hard biscuits the tavern owner had served up with breakfast, “it’s still a secret from everyone else.”

Or so she hoped.

She’d slept in later than she’d intended this morning–but it was so easy, Alistair warm and wrapped around her and Fletcher chasing the chill from her feet–and when she finally crept back across the hall and into her own room, Morrigan had already gone for the morning. She had an immediate excuse prepared–Fletcher needed to go for a long walk, so I got up early–but when she catches the mage in the main room of the tavern later, she has no questions, doesn’t even bat an eye at her.

“What’s so wrong with them knowing about us?” Alistair asks, and she has no answer for him. No rational answer, really. No justifiable answer. She cups her ice-cold fingers over her mouth and exhales a warm breath into them. She could do without the pestering, if they knew. That much, she was sure of. But other than that…

She peers back at Alistair from behind her fingers, still not answering him, and he gives her a smile that could melt every bit of snow from the Frostbacks themselves. She can’t help but smile back. “Em,” he says softly, taking her cold hands between his warm palms and rubbing them slowly, carefully, before pulling them to his lips and kissing her knuckles gently. From over his shoulder, she thinks she spots Wynne smiling into her tea, Morrigan rolling her eyes, Leliana beaming.

“Nothing.”

[ladylike-foxes]

DWC! “I’ve always felt numb and foggy between autumn and spring.”

Both you and @hell5bell5 sent the same prompt, so my thanks and love to both of you! As well as @galadrieljones, as her recent commission inspired this ficlet for @dadrunkwriting ❤️❤️

“And from there, we’ll move in on…Inquisitor?” Cullen stopped moving his markers around the map, his shift in attention causing the other Advisors to perk up, “Inquisitor, are you well?”

“Huh? Yea–Ahem,” Halesta straightened up, folding her hands neatly on the table before her, “I mean, yes. I’m sorry, Commander. Do go on.”

He hesitated, sharing a glance with Josephine and Leliana. That same, glazed look had already returned to the Inquisitor’s rather blank stare. They had each noticed it over the past few weeks, her unusual behavior: sleeping in, eating less, always distracted. The Advisors weren’t alone in their concern. Her companions had asked after her nearly every day for the past week. Dorian especially was worried sick, going so far as to pester Solas for answers as to the Inquisitor’s sudden relapse. She had finally been recovering from the aftermath of the break-up, but this recent backslide since their return from the Frostback Basin had everyone scratching their heads.

“Inquisitor, why don’t you get some rest,” Josie fluttered over, a hand to her forehead.

“Really, I’m fine,” Even her objection was half-hearted, “It’s just a little touch of the blues.”

“Well then, go do something fun to cheer yourself up,” Leliana came around to lean against the table beside her, “Go see what Sera is getting into.”

“Uh, maybe not Sera,” Cullen offered, catching Josephine’s flinch, “But perhaps a game of Wicked Grace with Varric?”

“Yes, that sounds lovely! I’m sure Master Tethras would be happy to oblige,” They were shooing her from the War Room with gentle insistence.

“Okay, okay, maybe I will,” Finally submitting, they allowed her to walk down to the Hall on her own.

She decided not to disturb Varric, buried deep enough in paperwork that he didn’t notice her pass by. She wasn’t up to Dorian’s mothering at the moment, so she made her way down the stairs into the weak light of the afternoon sun. Cassandra was nowhere to be seen, no doubt curled up with a book, avoiding the biting wind that seemed to slip through Skyhold’s strangely temperate atmosphere. Without any better ideas, Halesta headed for the Herald’s Rest. Bull and the Chargers were all gathered in the far back corner, loud laughter and shouting conversation: Halesta opted for the table tucked out of the way spot, to the left of the bar. Cabot brought her a mulled cider and a glib comment before leaving her to stare at the wall.

“Inquisitor.”

A deep, rumbling voice both familiar and strange, she looked up into sharp aquamarine eyes. A smile tugged insistently at the corner of her lips, though she didn’t remember feeling like smiling.

“Inquisitor,” She moved to stand, to return the bow, but his hand, heavy as stone, kept her in her seat.

“Might I join you?” Ameridan, in his fashion, sat without allowing her answer, already gesturing to Cabot for a drink.

“It doesn’t seem I have a say in the matter,” It came out with more of an edge than she intended, and his piercing eyes met hers again.

He seemed solid, unyielding: real in a way that nothing else did, lately. He looked her over, very slow and deliberate, such a long look nearly bringing a flush to her skin. She thought back to the moment the Anchor had sliced him free of time. Even Solas had looked surprised. She hadn’t spoken to him much, he’d waited a week or so before following them back to Skyhold. But she thought about him a lot, him and Telana. The weight of his sacrifice, her loss of him, the endless waiting.

“I hear you haven’t been yourself of late, Inquisitor,” His voice was so heavy, gently demanding.

“It’s been a rough few years,” A bitter, shallow smile was all she could offer, “And winter doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Have you noticed how oddly mild the weather is here?” As if he were retroactively reading her thoughts.

“It’s one of Skyhold’s many mysteries,” He barked a laugh in response, giving her a start.

“Mm. What is it about winter that is so difficult for you?” He thanked Cabot and returned his intense focus to her.

“You know. The shorter days, the haze that sets in,” She took a sip of her cider, staring intently at the bottom of her cup.

“The haze?”

“I don’t know. I’ve always felt foggy and numb between autumn and spring,” Shrugging at her drink, “And this year, with Sol—with everything, it’s worse, it's…. Have you ever been so numb it hurts?”

“Yes. I think I have.”

Ameridan watched her steadily, holding her gaze when she looked back up. She felt naked, but not without clothes: raw, like an exposed nerve. One that, in some way, he managed to understand. After a long moment, he nodded, smiling slowly.

“You’re stronger than I was at your age.”

“I’ve been through more than most people my age. Even outside the Inquisiton,” The admission came too easily, and she hesitated, wondering at herself.

“I’d like to hear about that sometime, if you wouldn’t mind sharing,” Sitting back in his seat, his shifting weight made the chair groan, “But— and forgive me if I cross the line, Inquisitor— I think, sometimes, you put yourself through more than you need to. You relive the worst of it, over and over, as a sort of self-punishment.”

“Hm. You’re probably right,” She thought for a moment, then wrinkled her nose, “Not all of it, though.”

“Ahh, your Fade Expert,” Ameridan arched a brow and crossed his arms, “Yes, I’ve heard word of that too.”

“Oh, fantastic!” She crossed her arms on the table, hiding her face in them.

“Fond of older men, hm?” She buried her burning face deeper as he chuckled, “Shall I punch him for you?”

“I can defend my own honor, thanks,” She glared up at his satisfied smile.

“I’m sure you can. I’ve heard some fearsome things. And I believe he’s a pacifist, anyway, is he not? A physical confrontation would only make him more contrary.”

“Not if I just killed him and saved us all the trouble,” Dropping her face back into her arms, “Ughhh.”

“How are you feeling? A little less hazy?” Propping up her chin, she looked him in the eye again.

“Yeah, for now, at least,” His smile fell slowly as she finished her sentence.“Though, for someone so far out of time, you seem more present than anything else here.”

[impossible-rat-babies]

DWC!!! “ you were too late. ”

Bull + Dimitri | 1744 word count | Fluff!

for @dadrunkwriting

--

The sounds of wood against metal—training dummies abandoned to the frost—along with whoops and hollers in the early morning light filled empty training yard. The sun was hanging above them, but the morning light hadn’t warmed the slick, frost touched grass beneath their feet.

Dimitri skidded back from a blow, his own parrying attack slipping off Bull’s shield, teeth rattling at the force. He carried the momentum down and spun himself back and away from Bull’s next blow, staff pointed before him. He breathed deeply, cool mountain air of Skyhold sharp and almost painful in his lungs. It set his bare copper skin to shivering gooseflesh, sweat rolling to settle in the hollow of his throat.

“Almost late there, Boss!” Bull followed the mage as he circled, wide grin on his face. He swung his mock sword around, his own bare chest moving at a quicker clip. A quick laugh bursted from Dimitri’s chest, tongue wetting his lips.

“Maybe you’ll get your timing right this time, Bull!” He goaded, a grin across his own face and he swung his practice staff around, priming it for another attack. Bull squared off—set and steady like always—before he charged.

The strike of sword and staff rattled arms, but Dimitri parried the blow with practiced ease, giving him enough time to slip past a blow from the shield. Bull easily countered and kept up the attacks, just as relentless in practice as he was on the battlefield. Half of a battle was morale and with Bull coming after you, it was easy for Dimitri to see how terrifying he was.

‘You see a Qunari in full armor, you run.’ 

Bull’s warning bounced in his head as he parried another series of blows, feinting to the left before going low on his blind side. He gave a harsh whack to Bull’s ribs, momentum carrying him out of reach of the counter.

Bull remained unfazed by the blow, raising his sword and shield.

Seeing his blade raised and the battle in his eyes made Dimitri’s heart race and his blood sing. The thrill of it—the rush of adrenaline. In the heat of the spar, the pair of them trading hits back and forth, Bull’s one eye staring him down like it was a contest he was going to win, Dimitri felt that humming thrill beneath his fingernails. Akin to the lightning he could so easily conjure—the thrill of mana untapped. Danger around the corner.

Fear was for many, but the thrill of a fight was for the few.

One foot ill-placed—slipping on the wet grass—and he corrected even though he didn’t have the time. Bull caught him, using his imbalance to catch him off guard. He lifted his staff to block the blow, but he knew it wasn’t worth it.

“You’re too late!” He goaded, the mock sword slipping between his arm and his side, staff just barely too short of blocking the blow. Bull gave him a grin like he had won, but Dimitri matched that, the advantage obvious in his eyes. Hands no longer tensed around the grip, sword locked between his hold on his staff, easily to knock aside…

Dimitri tensed, quickly and harshly twisting his staff, knocking the blade from Bull’s hand in a flash. It flew off to the side, leaving him defenseless. He pointed his staff at Bull’s face, triumph crossing his face as he tapped Bull’s neck and chest.

“Match.” Dimitri declared, stomping his staff into the ground, bare chest swelling with deep breaths. Bull conceded the victory even as Dimitri saw a light of contention in his gaze.

“I think the rules went surrender or lethal blow.” Bull huffed at him and Dimitri rolled his eyes.

“A stomach wound isn’t lethal.” Dimitri reminded him, leaning against his staff as he observed Bull picking up the thrown sword, measuring the blade in front of him.

“Most of the time when I stab folks in the stomach, they die.” Bull pointed out and Dimitri smoothed a few hairs from his face, tucking white strands into complex braids.

“Most folks you fight aren’t Mages like me.” He added and Bull let out a laugh.

“A lot of Mages aren’t like you.” Bull supplied helpfully and Dimitri snickered yet again, watching as Bull’s eyes trailed down to his exposed stomach and the gnarled scar tissue covering most of it. A scar with a story he had yet to hear.

“Ever so kind to point that out to me.” Dimitri commented, knowing the observation was just that, even with the teasing gleam in Bull’s eye. Dimitri wasn’t like many Mages and Bull knew that as well as everyone else.

“Since when did the Inquisitor have so much fun sparring?” He observed and Dimitri let out another snicker.

“Since it’s become so much fun to watch you get overconfident and have me best you.” He remarked and Bull let out a loud laugh, the sound filling Dimitri’s chest with a comforting warmth.

“Ha, we’re that matched in combat?”

“I’d say so since you only have two fights ahead of me on the count. We’ve been sparring for months.”

It was always a back and forth of who was going to win. Their evening spars used to host bets from the soldiers who enjoyed watching their antics. Most had figured the odds in Bull’s favor, considering many didn’t think a mage to have it in them to best a warrior of Bull’s size. But, ever since Dimitri had laid Bull flat on his back with a staff directly as his neck, people placed their bets more evenly.

But it eventually turned to a distraction and Cullen had seen fit to send many off on evening duties and briskly insinuate the pair were better off sparring in the morning. The cold air did Dimitri good anyway, no matter how much he loathed it.

“Well, looks like we’re up one to one this time.” Bull replied and Dimitri tapped his staff into the ground in response.

Not far off, the chittering of people caught his ears and he turned his gaze, spying a host of soldiers all dressed for their own morning practice. Inevitably a squad heading out into the Western Approach, trying to get in some practice. They would be departing themselves for the area in a few days; Hawke and Loghain’s leads in Crestwood only confirmed the reports they had gotten from the region.

The soldiers looked on the pair hesitantly and both of them looked to each other, a grin filling Bull’s face. He didn’t even have to ask--his expression eager enough--and Dimitri thumped his staff in the dirt, lifting and swinging it around. Bull loudly knocked his pommel into his shield, the sound echoing across the field.

Dimitri lingered on the balls of his feet, adrenaline singing in his veins as Bull charged. He parried the blow from his sword, bare shoulder briskly meeting the shield with a loud THWAK!

He held tight against his hold, grinding his teeth even with the pain sliding all the way down to his toes.

“You okay there, Boss?” Bull taunted with a grin and Dimitri chuckled, sweat beading under his brow.

A sharp knock of his staff to the side of Bull’s knee caught him enough for Dimitri to disengage, dancing away from Bull as he shook off the vibrations in his bones.

The pair continued to trade blows and grazes, easily drawing the attention of the soldiers. They gathered on the edge of the ring, their conversation lost to Dimitri in the heat of the spar, blows flying past him. The crowd whistled and their small talking grew louder, but Dimitri has naught the ears nor eyes to keep up with them.

Bull tweaked just enough to the outside for Dimitri to easily slip past, easily and roughly landing a few hard whacks to Bull’s back. Bull quickly flipped back around--faster than Dimitri had thought--the shield landing a harsh smack to his side. The pain blinded him a moment as the scars screamed, but he conjured enough sense to keep his staff raised and pull away from Bull. It took naught a moment to get his bearings back, but the brief moments counted. Even so, the blow had hit and hurt hard.

Bull kept him on the defense after that--only leaving him time to parry blows-- but he could see how the growing crowd made it a performance for him. And a performance meant showing off; the stakes were low enough for some gravitas and Dimitri knew it.

Bull took his stance too wide and Dimitri’s hands stung with electricity, quickly and sharply snapped his staff against the inside of Bull’s thigh, the lightning quickly discharging. He flinched and the falter was enough for Dimitri to swing his staff back up, whacking him in the jaw. The blow sent him stumbling into the ground and Dimitri swung his staff back around to point in his throat, placing his foot over top of his chest.

“Match.” Dimitri called, a grin on his lips and something like fire burning in his eyes and in the pit of his stomach. The crowd whooped and hollered, Bull raising his hands in surrender. Dimitri stepped off him, offering a hand.

The squad captain barked at the lot of them from across the field as Dimitri helped Bull to his feet. They all quickly obeyed the order, leaving the pair alone once more.

“You cheated.” Bull promptly told him and Dimitri slouched, a tic forming in his jaw.

“You are incorrigible.” Dimitri countered, planting a hand on his hip with an incredulous look.

“Cheating is less than being an ass, Kadan.” Bull remarked and Dimitri rolled his eyes.

“You were enjoying giving a show, so it only felt right to take matters into my own hands. Briefly. Plus a little shock never hurt anyone.” A bit of lighting buzzed between Dimitri’s thumb and index finger, a snap sending the brief spark rolling with a whiff of ozone.

“Still cheated.” Bull grumbled and Dimitri breathed out, a chuckle rising in his throat.

“Come on…” Dimitri patted his chest, a soft smile on his face that was growing to only be reserved for Bull. The sun broke across the training yard, the dawn breaking through into the day to color the grass and old stone walls. It painted across the both of them, grey and copper glowing in the warmth. “This place is gonna fill up soon.”