#katalyna writes

[katalyna-rose]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: The Veilguard (Video Game) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Rook/Emmrich Volkarin Characters: Rook (Dragon Age), Emmrich Volkarin Additional Tags: Non-Sexual Intimacy, Blind Character, blind Rook, the inherent intimacy of touch, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, just fluff and intimacy. that's it that's the fic. Summary:

“It occurs to me,” Emmrich began, hoping he wasn’t about to put his foot in his mouth, “that you see details with your hands rather than your magic.” Her little smile turned sarcastic, and she probably had a wicked barb on the tip of her tongue, but he continued before she could release it. “Would it interest you… to see my face?”

***

Just some non-sexual intimacy between my blind Rook and Emmrich.

[katalyna-rose]

Dragon Age prompt!

"Wow, I didn't realize we could make Bianca even faster by adding explosive powder."

"...Varric I think we made a gun."

"Tell me you didn't just add gaatlok to Bianca, Varric," Hawke groaned from between her arms, her head firmly pressed into the tavern's table.

"She's so much faster this way!" the dwarf protested, recklessly brandishing his once-crossbow.

"That's a gun," Fenris observed, knocking back his tankard. "You made a gun." Hawke groaned from her place inside the wood tabletop, refusing to emerge.

"What's a gun?" Varric asked, genuine confusion in his tone as he glanced between Hawke and Fenris.

Fenris eyed the contraption that had once been a crossbow, its shattered pieces now tied and taped together into a completely new form, complete with a metal barrel to help propel the extra sturdy crossbow bolts. "That, dwarf. That is a gun. Do me a favor and aim it at the magisters, while you're in Tevinter."

"Can do!" Varric promised, with no idea at all if he'd actually follow through.

[katalyna-rose]

Hey hi do you guys remember when I used to write for prompts while tipsy? Anyone still follow me that remembers that? Yeah I'm tipsy and I wanna write. Someone send me a Dragon Age prompt. Currently loving the resurgence of all the sleeper DA blogs. Going back over lore I'd all but forgotten.

[katalyna-rose]

(Talesfromthefade) “I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me.” for the DWC?

@dadrunkwriting

A child was conceived by starlight, the moons hidden away behind the horizon in their own forbidden dance, while a forbidden couple met in the dark. A Keeper and a Hunter, not in itself forbidden, but from different clans, with different responsibilities, and each promised to another. Yet both could do nothing but follow their own hearts, for love is worth any price.

It was not their love, but their secrecy that was their end. Forbidden lovers were not the only ones venturing through the dark when the moons fled the sky. Many times they had done this, while trying to find some way to make it real, to come out of the shadows without losing their people. And the Hunter knew she was already pregnant, trying to find the words to tell her lover that they were out of time. The shadows would be gone soon, whether they were ready or not, when her belly started to grow with their love.

But they never had a chance. Dark things hunt on dark nights, and their precious retreat was found as they lay tangled together. His death, her agony, but they did not complete the destruction. She dragged the body of her lover home to her clan, clutching at the life that, somehow, still held on within her. Her people took her, cleaned her, forgave her, but she could not forgive herself. She attended the burial of the man she loved, and then there was nothing to do but wait. Wait for the child she was never supposed to have, wait for the death that should have already happened, wait for absolution from sins that were not hers. For she did not kill him, whatever she might have thought of herself.

A child was born with two moons hanging full in the sky to a mother who had lost her will to live. She held her wailing daughter and declared that she was beautiful, but she saw in the color of the eyes and the curls in the hair the man she felt she had betrayed. The girl was his child, his memory, and she felt she had no place in her daughter’s life. Or in any life.

When the daughter was born the mother did not wait to recover. She placed her child in the hands of her dearest friend and wandered into the woods to meet the man she loved one more time.

And the woman who now found herself with a child she hadn’t carried in her womb cradled the girl close to her chest, and the clan of her father let her keep his name to honor his love.

***

“I held you to my breast and you looked up at me with those big eyes and a fist around my finger and you started to wail once more. I rocked you and I told you what I always say when you’re afraid. I won’t let anyone hurt you, da’len. You’re safe with me.” The aravel rocked as though it was being blown about by an ocean on land, the terrified bleating of the halla breaking through the racket the old and creaky wood made as it all but flew across the forest floor, dozens of others at its side. Ashalle looked up as a sound like a bolt of lightning hitting a tree rocked them, the sound of a sturdy wooden wheel cracking under the strain. But it was not their aravel, and they could not help. The continued to fly across the land with the rest of their clan.

Ashalle looked down to the girl in her arms. A woman soon, but not yet, her face unmarked and freckles stark against her pallor. “You’re safe with me,” Ashalle said again, and big golden eyes made bigger by fear met hers, a stubborn chin trembled, and then she nodded.

“I’m safe here,” Kahlia asserted with all the confidence of the young, even as they fled for their lives from the humans who had taken issue with their people living too close to their borders. “I’m always safe with my clan.”

Ashalle tucked her daughter’s head under her chin, riotous red curls tickling her cheeks and neck, and held her adopted daughter as close as she had that first day, when her closest friend had given her birthright away in her grief. Always, she vowed silently, because she’d rather die than lose anyone else she loved that much.

[katalyna-rose]

Perfect

I have been coerced and cajoled and all other synonyms of forcibly pushed into experiencing the world of Mystic Messenger: 707 route by the delightfully cruel @thema-sal-shiral and now I am forced to share the result. Part one of two, with part two still undergoing edits because it has actual plot and this one is just porn lol.

BDSM, bondage, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus

Kyrith was shaking, her whole body trembling and twitching, splayed before Saeyoung like a sacrificial offering. One he'd already partaken in many times. He'd bound her delicate hands above her head, tied them to the headboard to trap her, but the rest of her was freely devoted to him. And she was beautiful like that, legs spread by his shoulders, knees bent around his head, her thighs quaking and her belly trembling and her pert breasts bouncing with her hectic breaths. Her head was thrown back on the pillow of her dark curls but he didn't need to see her face to know that her eyes were squeezed shut beneath brows drawn low and her pink lips were parted around her gasping. And she was so beautiful, limned in candlelight for the occasion, the flickering flames bronzing her tanned skin and highlighting both the strong muscles of her limbs and the softness of her belly, that little pillow there he adored so much.

"Again," he commanded, as he had done so many times already that he'd lost count. But this time she didn't arch into him, eager to obey and receive her pleasure. No, she trembled even harder, shuddered in response, and a faint whimper escaped her throat. He tightened his hand on her thigh and felt the muscle jump beneath his fingers. "Again," he growled once more, but she shook her head desperately, as though she wasn't even aware of it. He eased up, watching her closely, but she didn't end it. Even so, he needed to make sure. "Are you defying me?" he purred, pressing his words into her mound so that they would vibrate into her core.

She shuddered again, but was silent. He kissed her thigh, right over a blooming bruise from his teeth, and her breath escaped her in a hiss. "Are you refusing to give me another?" he asked again. He needed her response, but she only gasped for long moments.

"N-no," she whispered at last, her voice too hoarse to be heard but her breath shaping the sounds anyway, and still she trembled.

"No? You are not defying me, or you will not give me another?" he pushed, because it was his job. His hands moved in slow circles over her belly, where muscles deep within her still twitched for his touch. He had tormented her for hours, wringing dozens of orgasms from her lithe little body, and still he wanted more. He wanted to see her break, to shatter her and drink her in. But he needed her to feel safe.

"I…" she attempted, but the sound trailed off. He kissed the inner joint of her hip, softest skin against lips still sticky with her pleasure.

"Use your words," he growled against her flesh, and her whine made him shiver down to his toes as they waved playfully in the air.

"I am not…" But still she couldn't finish, was trembling too hard, her thoughts scattered like shards of glass taken by the tide. It was beautiful, but he wanted more.

"Am not what?" he prompted, nibbling on her hip. He must have hit a nerve because she arched up sharply with a gasp. He wanted to do it again, but he needed her answer so he waited.

"I am not defying you," she managed at last, and even to him his grin felt feral and predatory.

"Good girl," he growled, and bit her hip again. Harder, so that her gasp was a cry this time as she yanked on her bonds in vain. His lips sealed around her cunt once more, tongue thrusting inside her to reach her hidden depths, to taste her nectar, and she moaned so sweetly. He'd tried gagging her before but he didn't care for it, much preferred to make her sing for him, to hear every last little sound he could wring from her lovely lips, to make her go hoarse calling for him.

And call she did, his name a litany on her tongue as he traced her bud with a finger, then slipped it inside her. Lips closed around that sensitive little nub, not so little now after he'd paid so much attention to it and it was swollen with his affections, and she screamed for him so beautifully. He ground his hips against the mattress, the pressure in the base of his cock almost suffocating, but this was what he needed. Her taste on his tongue, her cunt fluttering around his fingers, her voice filling the room, her body shaking in his grasp. Perfection.

She was so oversensitive that it didn't take much, a few pulls of his lips on her clit, a few passes of his tongue, two fingers curled inside her against her favorite spot, and she was finished. But, oh, such a finish! The headboard creaked as she pulled desperately at her bonds, her back arched to an almost impossible angle, her screams almost deafening as she truly shattered and her pleasure flowed into his mouth and down his cheeks to stain the bed. And he loved it, cherished it, committed every last moment to memory to preserve it forever as her body tensed up like a bowstring he pulled back, and back, and back. And then - release - she collapsed all at once, completely spent, utterly satiated, fighting for breath as even her trembling calmed and mellowed.

With careful motions, he crawled up her body to release her hands, gently rubbing proper circulation back into her fingers and easing the burn from pulling so hard on silk. She was insensate, eyes closed and little moans escaping alongside her breaths, and she didn't even seem to know that he was there. He held her close and combed her hair and waited for her to return to herself.

"Saeyoung," she breathed at last, curling into his embrace.

"Kyrith," he whispered, lips pressed to her sweaty forehead. "How was it, my love? Are you alright?"

"Fuck," she whimpered, but he wasn't sure it was a good thing. Damn it, he should have been gentler. She was asking him to stop before the last one, but had lost too much of herself to say her safeword, and he should have - "It was perfect," she finished. She blinked open her eyes to smile up at him, eyes so warm of a brown they were almost red piercing right through his heart. "You pushed me so far I broke, and you were right there to catch me as I fell. It was exquisite agony, I loved it. You were perfect."

His tense shoulders turned to water at her assurances, his worried frown to a proud smile, and he tucked a curl behind her ear. "And you did so well for me," he told her, and adored the way her eyes shone. "You did everything I asked of you, and more. You endured, and thrived, and you were so beautiful. You are so strong and fierce, Kyrith. It was perfect." He kissed her gently and she smiled against his lips, hands shaking with exhaustion reaching up to hold him as he embraced her, delicate fingers tangling in his hair as she hadn't been able to when he had her tied up. He loved her so much his chest ached, but it was perfect. She was perfect for him.

[katalyna-rose]

dwc! palm kissing from the kisses prompts for alistair and your cousland? (bitchesofostwick)

For @dadrunkwriting

Alistair, king of Ferelden, generally considered himself to be a level-headed man, more given to calm and peacefulness than agitation. Yet at the moment he was pouting in a manner not befit of a king, and he didn’t care.

“Eamon, I really don’t give a damn,” he said for the third time, his pout devolving into a scowl. “It’s been nearly six weeks since I saw her last and you know bloody well that’s too damn long.”

“These dignitaries have traveled from-” Eamon began, looking as though he had a migraine.

“I don’t give a damn!” Alistair cried. “The tour is scheduled to end, it’s damn well ending! I’m going home to Denerim so I can be with my wife. Deal with it.”

A light laugh startled both men out of their chairs on either side of a heavy wooden desk, both reaching for concealed weapons. “Denerim is currently rather bereft of good company, I’m afraid,” Elissa quipped as she strolled into the study, resplendent in navy blue velvet with golden embroidery, her hair in loose curls around her shoulders.

“Elissa!” Alistair cried, sweeping her into his arms to crush her against his chest.

“Oh, not so hard!” she protested, pushing at his shoulders. He released her at once but couldn’t help taking her hands.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Are you alright.”

Her lips curled and her grey eyes reflected back his worry, unneeded. “I’m wonderful, now that I’m with you,” she told him. Her eyes flickered over his shoulder. “Eamon, could you give us the room for a moment? You can have him back this evening for your dignitaries.”

There was a pause in which Alistair was afraid Eamon might refuse, but finally he mumbled out his assent, bowed, and left. And then it was just the two of them, and Alistair felt his heart soar.

“What are you doing here, love?” he asked at last as he moved his hands restlessly over her fingers, relearning their shape.

“I came for you,” she told him, smiling and standing so close he could feel the heat of her skin. “I came to tell you something.”

“What?” he whispered, drunk on her presence and wondering how much trouble he’d get in for laying her across the desk.

Her hands squeezed his, and a nervous edge overtook her joy. “I couldn’t wait until you got back, especially not with Eamon’s notes about how many times you were being sidetracked. I’ve been bursting with it…”

He kissed her knuckles, then turned her hand over to taste her palm. “Tell me, love,” he whispered against the calluses of her sword, then scraped his teeth over them just to see her shiver.

“I’m pregnant,” she breathed, as though saying it aloud would turn it into a lie, would shatter the air around them.

Alistair swayed on his feet, his lips frozen against her skin for long moments. “Truly?” he breathed back, caught in the same spell of disbelief.

“Yes,” she told him. “There’s no mistake. I’m carrying your child.”

All of a sudden Alistair found himself on his knees before her, with no real idea of how he’d gotten there except that pain was shooting up his thighs from impact points in his knees. His hands found his queen’s belly, the flat expanse of it wrapped in so much velvet, and then he pressed his cheek against it as though he could feel the baby within. Her hands gripped his shoulders and he could hear her ragged breaths, so he squeezed her hand and kissed her palm once more. “I love you, so much,” he choked out, unaware until that moment that he was crying. Big, hot tears flowed down his cheeks, stained the pretty velvet dress, but he couldn’t help it as he looked up to see her crying too, a smile on her lips.

“You’re going to be wonderful,” she told him, and he buried his face in her stomach.

[katalyna-rose]

Sign

Hey guys I’m not dead I promise. I’ve just been stuck in a cycle of eat, work, sleep, repeat for way too long. Anyway, this tiny little thing I managed to write is dedicated to @adventuresinastrangeworld for being fucking awesome and reminding me that I need to stop stressing so hard about money and my job and return to the things that give me joy. So I wrote a little bit about that fucking sign over the tavern in Skyhold, and Salshira’s reaction to it. I may work this into A Journey of the Soul when I get to that point, or I may just reference it, but regardless this is canon. Enjoy.

Salshira stood still as stone but for her loose hair, longer now than it had been but with one side freshly shaved, and stared up at the sign that hung above the entrance to the newly completed tavern. She wore no expression but she could feel the eyes that found her and quickly scurried away, and all the people who gave her a wide berth. One drew nearer than the others and there was no mistaking his height or the color of the blur of him at the edge of her vision, and though he quickly attempted a retreat when he realized what she was doing she stopped him.

“Bull?” she called out, not taking her eyes off the sign. The shape of him hunched over as though to make himself smaller for a moment before he came to her.

“Yeah, Boss?” he asked, wariness in his tone.

“Maybe you can help me out here, Bull,” Salshira began, her tone mild and curious. “What does this sign depict?”

There was a pause in which the shape of her friend seemed to fidget a bit. “It, uh, seems to show Andraste,” he said at last.

“And?” Salshira prompted, still sounding only vaguely interested.

“And she’s carrying, uh… you. Out of the Fade,” he finished, sounding as though he’d rather be anywhere else.

Salshira nodded and shifted her weight to one foot to take the pressure off her twisted ankle. “Right, that’s what I thought, too,” she agreed. “But the figure meant to depict me. Does it look like me?”

She could feel Bull’s attention move to the sign, where a blonde and beautiful Andraste was carrying a small brown-haired figure that lacked a few distinct features. “Uh… No. It doesn’t,” Bull finally answered.

“Okay, great. So does the figure look human to you?” she asked at last. “The one meant to be me?”

Bull sighed heavily and shifted his weight anxiously from foot to foot. “Yeah, Boss. That’s a human.”

“Good, good.” Salshira finally took her eyes off the absolutely atrocious painting that had been hung with such loving care over the tavern that had come to be called The Herald’s Rest and looked at her friend. His single eye was fixed on her as though she might turn into a snake at any moment and attack. “So last thing. Who painted it, who approved it, and who hung it up?”

“Why?”

Salshira shrugged lightly. “I want to have a chat.”

“If I tell you, what happens to the people I name?” Bull asked warily.

Salshira’s smile was sickly sweet. “That depends entirely on their answers to a few little questions during our chat,” she told him.

Bull sighed again. “You know, it’s bad for your image if you kill people over a sign,” he reminded her.

“It’s bad for my image to have my identity erased,” she replied. “And I’ll send everyone here to the Void before I let my ears get docked as though they’re merely an inconvenient truth to be covered up. Like Shartan.”

There was a long, tense pause as they stared each other down until at last Bull sighed and gave in. “Yeah, okay, Boss,” he said, picking up an axe someone had been using to chop wood nearby before Salshira found the sign. Two steady whacks and the post snapped, sending the sign tumbling into the grass. Salshira kicked it away from anything flammable and then set it on fire with a spark of magic. “Come on, Boss. Let’s go find the artist and the tavern keeper. I’ll help you get the answers you want out of them.” He put a hand on her back comfortingly and led her into the building past the burning sign.

[katalyna-rose]

Infuriating

Just a bit from DnD yesterday with @zanidragon @empresstress13 and @shiftyarchfey that I felt the need to write. We had to make a deal with an asshole to get a vengeful ghost contained and put to rest, but since the ghost used to me my character’s friend she won’t leave it alone because she doesn’t trust anyone. It led to a fun little bit about being trapped in an inn room with a hot guy who has some issues, and I just needed to write about it.

---

The room was stifling, and far too small, and Naema wasn’t even allowed to touch anything. There was so much stuff! She just wanted to see, and she knew better than to take any of his things; she’d never get away with it. But her hands were idle, fiddling with the strands of various bits she liked the texture of that she wore in lieu of a shirt, and it was awful. Her strings of “beads” weren’t enough to keep her occupied any longer, even the ones she’d braided into her hair for added textural interest. She gave up on the beads and paced like a trapped tiger, but her seemingly eternal companion did not seem to notice.

You did it to yourself, she reminded herself as she scowled at the back of his head. You could have just given him the damn Jar of Ghost and hung out in the inn below. Could have asked Val to- No, not Val. Val had been dragged through way too much already. Val deserved a break, to go home and not have to deal with this latest shitstorm. It was why she left Val behind whenever she left town; she was too likely to get herself hurt, and couldn’t stand the thought of Val getting hurt too. Well, still could have just hung out downstairs, anyway. But now that I’m here, now that I’ve made this choice, I”ll be damned if I’m leaving.

She plopped down on the bed for a while, playing with the frayed edge of the blanket, but she made herself stop before she ripped it apart. Sliding to the floor with a sigh, she started stretching, hoping it would help her feel a little less trapped. Twisting her body, contorting into whatever weird shapes might make her feel better once her muscles were loose, was entertaining only for a little while. She hopped back up to her feet and trotted over to look over her companion’s shoulder for a while, careful to keep enough of a distance that his fucking snake didn’t try anything again. But whatever he was doing wasn’t something she was familiar with and it looked like he was reading what was essentially gibberish to her, a bunch of random letters strung into words interspersed with actual words, at least in the parts that were written in a tongue she knew.

Boring. He wasn’t this boring before. He was aggravating and haughty and intentionally obtuse, but not boring. She could at least be entertained by thoughts of throttling him, but now she didn’t even want to do that anymore. She sat on the windowsill beside him and lowered her upper body through it before he could complain that she was in his light. At least if he tipped her over the edge she’d have something to do as she fell…

But he didn’t seem to notice her. She sighed heavily as she gazed at the street far below, still absolutely covered in vermin for no apparent reason. She stayed there as the tingling in her head got more intense because at least it was some sort of sensation, something to think about for a while. She had to cross her arms to keep herself from losing any of her strings of “beads” to the nastiness below, but she stayed there and scowled at them as her face grew redder with pooling blood. Until she remembered the ravens. Oh, yeah, they were staring at her, all eight pairs of those creepy and too-intelligent eyes trained on her because she was the only one dumb enough to be seen outside, probably. Time to nope out of that.

She sat up too quickly, her vision going dark as she slid back down to the floor. She rubbed her eyes as sight returned and glared at her companion, but he was still absorbed in his work. He hadn’t even stopped for lunch, though she’d eaten something out of her bag. Finally, she decided it was enough. He wasn’t supposed to be this boring, and it didn’t suit his pretty face to be so still and focused.

She crawled over to him and ran her hands up his calves. “You’ve been at it for ages,” she purred. He didn’t acknowledge her. Her hands massaged their way up his thighs. “Aren’t you tired? Aren’t your eyes crossing from all the reading?”

“No,” Kharvas finally growled, the first acknowledgement of her existence since he chucked her out of his bed after mentioning their odd dream that morning.

Naema pouted for a moment before trying again, getting to her feet to drape herself carefully across his shoulders, hoping his snake was somewhere else. She ran her hands across his chest, warming him with her body. “Everybody needs a break,” she breathed into his ear. “Even weirdos reading strange books acquired from suspicious individuals.”

He looked at her for the first time that day, one brow raised and a smirk tugging at one corner of his lips. “This is how you attempt to seduce me?” he drawled lazily, and she grinned because she had his attention. “By calling me names?”

She trailed her fingertips lightly over his lips, watching the way the soft flesh yielded to the slight touch. “If I attempted to seduce you with flattery, you’d accuse me of being false. And you’d be right. Isn’t it so much more refreshing to be honest about certain things?” she asked, leaning close to speak above his mouth. “I want something from you. You want something from me. Right now, you could use a break. I want you to take a break with me because I’m going out of my head with boredom.”

“You don’t have to be here,” he began, but she put her fingers over his lips again.

“I know that,” she reminded him, now nibbling on his jawbone. “But here I am, and here I will stay, because I’m too stubborn for anything else. You need a break, I need a distraction. You’re an ass, but you’re also really hot. So here we are.”

His eyes danced and his lips curled. But he gave her what she asked for, and when her lips were swollen and her body was sated she laid peacefully on his bed while he resumed his work and was content to draw patterns in the drying sweat on her skin for the rest of the evening. “Ah, much better,” she sighed to herself, smiling at the back of his infuriating head.