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Welcome to 21 Days of Thedas!

Put on your party hats - it’s time for the Hawke-Might-Be-Dead Memorial Party! It’s a wake, it's a prompt meme, it’s a kink meme, it’s a fandom party celebration! Sure we don’t know the fate of Hawke for certain, but who cares? Let’s immortalize the Heroes of the Dragon Age with a whole lot of art and fic!

Discussion Post | Admin Post

OVER! Head to Reveals!


Day 1 - September 6 - Prompts! You will have seven days to put as many prompts as you'd like on this post. And if you start writing them early, well that's just good planning!
Day 8 -
September 13 - Prompting ends, posting begins! You have 14 days to write, draw, and potentially diorama as many prompts as you can. Cross-posting to the anonymous AO3 collection is allowed.
Day 19 - September 24 - This is the cut-off day for prompters to reply to any questions about their prompt. Unanswered questions are considered enthusiastic agreement.
Day 21 -
September 26 - Last day of posting! All fills must be posted by 11:59 PM North American Mountain Time.
Day 22 - September 27 - Party time! The reveals post goes up, and you now have the option of going unanon in whatever manner you please. The AO3 collection will be de-anoned, and will remain open indefinitely for unanon cross-posting.

(Click on the dates for countdowns; the fest is following MDT/Mountain Time)


For the purposes of this fest, the prompts themselves are considered warnings. If you have issues with this policy, we recommend either not participating or using Dreamwidth blocker.

MOST IMPORTANT RULE: Comments posted unanon will be deleted. This doesn't mean you aren't welcome here! If you'd like the content of your comment back, contact us at the Admin post.

For Prompters and Readers
  1. Subject lines should include the game, characters and/or pairing you want. Feel free to be as descriptive as you'd like. Warnings aren't required, but they also aren't banned.
  2. You don't have to write or draw. It's anon, and we aren't going to stalk you.
  3. Do not comment on other people's prompts to try and change pairings or characters. Post your own version with the characters you want instead.
  4. If you fail to respond to a 'is this okay?' kind of question about any of your prompts by the 19th day, it'll be taken as an enthusiastic yes, no matter what the question is.
  5. There are no subject bans. You may prompt anything you want.
  6. If you don't want to answer questions, say so. That will work as blanket permission for anything people might want to do with your prompt.
  7. New Spoiler Policy! Any prompts related to the Trespasser DLC must have SPOILER in the comment header.
For Artists and Writers
  1. No claiming prompts, please, as multiple fills are welcome!
  2. Minimum wordcount per fill is 100 words.
  3. All content is allowed and all warnings are optional, but if you want to write or draw extreme kinks** for a prompt that doesn’t specifically request them, you have ask the prompter first.
  4. If the artist requests it, the mods will repost art fills as an embedded picture in a reply to their comment. NSFW art will be labelled as such in the subject line by re-posting mods. Art involving underaged characters in porn situations will not be re-posted as an embed.
  5. New Spoiler Policy! Any fills for Trespasser DLC-related prompts must keep the prompt's SPOILER warning in the comment header. Do not include Trespasser DLC spoilers in your fill unless the prompt is about Trespasser, or unless the prompter says it's okay.
** "extreme kinks" for the purposes of this exchange include but are not necessarily limited to: extreme underage, major character death, scat/watersports/emetophilia, extreme gore, and bestiality. Please use reasonable discretion, and ask a mod if you have any questions!

For Everyone

This is a Choose Not to Warn fest. At no point will any comment be deleted for failure to warn of its content in the subject lines. They will be deleted for rampaging dickery and failure to follow the rules.
Unanon comments will be deleted or screened.
Attempts at policing other people's fun will be deleted.
Prompts posted after the end of the 7th day will be deleted.
Links to off-meme posts posted prior to end of the 21st day will be deleted.
Concerns are to be directed to the Admin post. If posted here, they will be deleted.
Fills that have spectacularly failed to fulfill the prompt/been posted to the wrong spot will be screened. You can request a copy of your work at the Admin post.

The rules may change without warning in response to unforeseen circumstances, like us thinking of better ones.

FILL: Morrigan/Warden - imperial court

Date: 2015-09-13 06:42 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Went for a long distance relationship/reunion kind of thing. Hope this works for you!


"The Crux of Things"

The ballroom was crowded with feathers, silks, bejeweled masks, hats piled high with flowers. Somewhere beneath elaborate contraptions of white chiffon and golden ribbons -- the colors of the summer -- were a hundred fluttering courtiers whose primary function seemed to be propelling their outfits across the marble floor. Bright, thin music echoed beneath the chatter.

From his place on the balcony, tucked between a spiralling marble pillar and a pair of women who seemed to be either flirting or preparing to duel, Amell surveyed the gilded chaos and spotted her immediately. A dark, tight-laced dress, and no flowers for her hair; the only person in the court not wearing a mask. Her strictly schooled expression was mask enough.

She shone like moonlight on still water. Even after all these years of reunions and departures, their dance across nations, his breath caught at first sight of her.

Though she didn’t look up from her conversation, Amell knew Morrigan had seen him too. Likely she’d known his exact whereabouts since the very moment he set foot on the premises. The Orlesian court was shockingly simple to infiltrate during a ball -- with everyone already in masks, disguises were easy and unremarkable. Amell had cringed as he spent Warden money on a close-fitting vest with elaborate white-on-white embroidery, a silk undershirt with falls of lace trailing from the sleeves, tanned deerskin boots that looked golden in sunlight. He'd given enough to the order, he knew, he could spend its coin on a chance to see his love. But the white finery was perhaps the least practical outfit he'd ever owned.

The mask, though -- white, of course, trimmed with doves' feathers -- the mask he liked. He hadn't been so anonymous in years.

Mask or no, Morrigan knew he was there. Amell left his post on the balcony and wound his way through the crowd until he could slip unnoticed through a side door. He was no rogue, but he'd picked up a trick or two from Leliana and Zevran during their travels. He found himself in a dark, unattended hallway, with an open door a few paces down. He continued, stepping carefully, through to a small library. Poorly lit from sconces, without windows, and with more settees and armchairs than shelves, the room was clearly better suited to private rendezvous than actually reading.

He undid the top button at his throat. "Fucking Orlesians," he muttered.

The door clicked shut behind him. "Now, now, no need for rudeness."

"Morrigan." It was more than a name on his lips; it was supplication. A curse and a prayer.

He turned in time to catch her smirk, or grimace, he could never quite tell. It was a pained expression, and he wondered if she wore it often or only when he trespassed again into her life. Then she softened into a smile, and he saw the reflection of late nights by the campfire, the young woman who'd called him her first and only friend.

“Can I see him?” he asked, as he always asked.

She'd acquiesced, a few times, introduced young Kieran to Mother's old friend, Uncle Amell, but more often these years the answer was as today: "No. Not now."

And he'd long since made his peace with that. The boy was his blood, but not his son. Amell leaned back against a nearly bare bookshelf. "How is he?"

"He's well," answered Morrigan. Up close, she had more color in her cheeks than the last time he’d seen her, and he didn’t think it was powder. Court life must suit her. She couldn’t possibly fit in, but she’d never let that stop her from finding a place for herself. There was a touch of silver at her temples.

"And how are you?"

"I'm well, of course. Why the secrecy, love?" She gestured to his mask, his ridiculous silks. The chamber of dusty velvet and dustier books he’d ensconced himself in. "Usually I'm the one skulking in shadows."

Love. He relaxed, as much as he could in the restrictive garments. She’d grown up alone in a swamp; he’d grown up encircled in walls, packed in tight along with everyone who’d ever truly cared for him. Somedays he still feared that farflung friendships weren’t friendships after all.

But if he was Morrigan’s first friend, she was the hand on his leash. He trusted her not to let go, no matter how far apart they stretched.

Which was why she was on the very short list of people he needed to tell, "I've gone missing. I don't think Weisshaupt's realized yet, or if they have they haven't made it known, but I'm working on something."

"You never did like being locked away, by walls or duty."

Perhaps it wasn't meant as a rebuke, but it stung. "This is duty. It's for all of them, for all of us. I can't get anyone else involved, the forces at work are too strange and secretive for a larger party to tackle. But I'm going to stop the Calling."

A flash of something -- sorrow -- bright in her golden eyes. “I hadn’t -- I hadn’t thought that possible,” she said, her voice low. “I’ve thought of it. But it’s outside the depths of even my knowing. And I have so much else--”

“Hey.” He stepped closer and reached out to touch the back of her hand. Only a light caress, though he longed to hold her tight. Today, and the next day. Ten years from now. Twenty. He wanted to spend a lifetime breathless in her arms. “It’s Warden business. It’s my business.”

"If you need me, you have only to send word,” she swore, and he thought she meant it, though she had to know he wouldn’t. She was playing a long game all her own, and he would never call her from it. She drew her hand away, adjusted the chains of gold around her neck. “It seems we’re each drawn once again to the crux of things. Do we follow the storm, or does the storm itself give chase to us?”

"Yes," said Amell, and the laugh he earned from her would keep him warm for the next month at least. "Anyway. I just wanted you to know what was happening.”

“Is that all? A letter couldn’t have sufficed?”

“Well. Not quite all.” He slipped a hand down to her waist, pulled her close. She scowled, but when he bent to kiss her he felt her lips soften beneath his. Almost a smile before she melted into him. She tasted of red wine and a spark of something darker. After a year of seeing her shadow in every corner, hearing the echo of wry laughter in every crackling fire, her touch was overwhelming. Amell was dizzy with the warmth of her, with the inexorable pulse beneath his fingers. With the distant hum of her magic; entropy, the quiet sister of creation. They were two sides of the same coin and he wanted, needed, all of her. As much as she would give.

She reached behind his head, fumbled at the strings, and gently pulled his mask away.

Re: FILL: Morrigan/Warden - imperial court

Date: 2015-09-13 08:07 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Oh, this definitely works for me! I really enjoyed how Amell and Morrigan have their own distinct lives, while clearly still being really in love with one another. I particularly liked this line, as I thought it a great characterization moment:

She’d grown up alone in a swamp; he’d grown up encircled in walls, packed in tight along with everyone who’d ever truly cared for him. Somedays he still feared that farflung friendships weren’t friendships after all.

And Morrigan's reaction to hearing about his goal = ♥ ♥ ♥

Re: FILL: Morrigan/Warden - imperial court

Date: 2015-09-13 08:41 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Thank you! I'm glad you liked it, and especially that line! :D I'm always interested in how mages from various backgrounds end up negotiating the world.


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