So There's This Senior Citizen *twirls Hair* ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

i hope you write (i hope we both write)

Silly Tag

Thank you for tagging me @serensama, sorry it took so long!

Basically, from what I gathered, you post a snippet of your writing that you deem silly or funny to share.

Here's mine:

“Don’t wanna alarm you, Hawke, but I think you’ve been stabbed.” Varric’s voice grated against Hawke’s ears and she winced. Even though he sounded a thousand yards away, she could feel the weight of his calloused hand wrapped around her aching wrist still. “I-I don’t feel anything,” she replied breathlessly. It was the truth too. She was either high on adrenaline or something was terribly wrong. “Well… I can see the dagger in your side, Hawke. Want me to yank it out?” Two unified voices yelled out ‘NO!’ at the exact same time. It was almost uncanny. Penelope’s head was swimming as she tried to focus her gaze on Fenris. Nothing else mattered, only that Fenris was here. Him and his deep-set frown and pinched eyebrows. The way his lyrium markings pulsed weakly, in and out, in and out. He was worrying his bottom lip, a habit he picked up after spending a lot of time with Hawke. Was he staring at her? Did he still think she was beautiful? “You can’t just pull a knife out, Varric! She’ll deflate like a gross blood balloon!” Isabela’s voice felt like sandpaper against Hawke’s ears and it snapped her back to the present.

The scenario isn't funny, but how they react is hilarious

Tagging: @bubblecat-co, @mercars-musings, @galluslonging, & @veilguardiumleviosa!

Alternate casual Solas outfit 🌿

something something "mama y papa" meme but it's rook de riva at teia/viago

Among The Multitudes

(Read on AO3)

Written for the Dragon Age Big Bang 2025. Illustrated by @the-font-bandit

M. 41,111 words.

Summary:

The first word Emmrich learnt to read was Johanna.

His eyes followed the sharp edges of each letter, cutting across his right wrist, staking some wordless claim, the ink as dark as blood. Each edge was distinct from the other, downward strokes hard and impressive, straightforward. Emmrich traced each letter — wrote it out, charcoal on paper, on leaves, fingers in the dirt, until they were identical to his skin, until he knew Johanna by heart.

Then a second name came after, months later, much more surprising than the first.

On his left wrist, all curving swirls, rounded letters, and sweeping lines, much more difficult for his young eyes to follow. The H molded into the A, pressed even closer to the N, as if written in a hurry, ink so light, the word untethered to its writer. Mummy had to help him decipher it, holding him close, her long dark hair plaited, the tips of it tickling his nose. She laughed, bright and tinkling — “Your soulmate has terrible handwriting, my love,” — before settling on Thana. Death.

—

Or, one Emmrich Volkarin, bearer of two soul marks, and a lifetime's exploration of the different faces of love and heartbreak.

Preview under the cut

Emmrich wondered — not for the first time in the last few years — what his soulmates were like.

His thoughts often strayed to them when he accompanied his mother to one of the manors she worked at. Early mornings kneading dough, late evenings cooking for some noble's party, sweat on her brow from the heat of the kitchens. Or when he would stay with his father at the shop, the scent of meat in the air, the rhythmic sound of a knife slicing through flesh, through bone, on a wooden block, the occasional greeting to a customer.

Were their parents like his? Did they go to market days together — spices and fruits and vegetables at every stall? Were there quiet smiles, lingering touches when passing by, eyes that lit up whenever they saw each other? Days off and summer picnics, shaky legs skating on the Minanter in the winter?

(Would there be with him when they grow up? Hands in his, laughter that rang through streets and love that woke with the sun and reminded him of his parents. He imagined Johanna with a grin as sharp as their name on his wrist, and Thana with soft, light hands, fingers making swirling patterns in the air.)

Did they like to read as much as he did?

The Chantry near his home was a tiny, modest thing — very different from the one closer to the heart of Nevarra City, with its tall towers and gleaming windows, always smelling like incense and myrrh — and Mother Dellah said he was turning into quite a studious learner, mind expanding in leaps and bounds. The Chantry opened their doors to the neighborhood children on Sundays, providing lessons on arithmetic, history, religion, and all sorts of other things. Emmrich soaked it all in like a sponge.

(Would they sit and read with him? He hoped they would, pointing to their favorite passages, legs knocking together. Perhaps in the Chantry library, right where he was now, whispering and giggling until Mother Dellah scolded them and kicked them out. He wouldn’t mind it that much as long as they were with him — the three of them would find something else to do together — together — always together.)

(Read on AO3)

viago your dedication to poisoning yourself and 'um actually'ing your recruits has made you the most attractive talon in all of antiva

curiosity

The world is in great peril, and you are the unlucky protagonist who must save it! Spin this wheel three times and get your Dragon Age party that you're stuck trying to save it with.

Feel free to reroll repeats. Most are companions, but there are also a few companion-adjacent possibilities. You can assume that you as the protagonist have a basic level of combat competency even if you don't in real life, so don't worry about yourself

Rook will obliterate every barrel and crate he finds like any graceful and sublime assassin should. He is truly the pride of Antiva.

And Viago is at his limit.

Lucien de Riva and art made by Barguest, do not copy or reupload please.

DRAGON AGE THE VEILGUARD THEY WILL NEVER MAKE ME HATE YOU!!!!!!!!!