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similarities between Awakening and the DA2 crew

noble-born archers with dead families and strained paternal relationships, who are reunited with their respective grandfather’s ancestral bow thanks to the Warden/Hawke

dwarf who cannot be Normal about the above

Anders is here

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when i say anders did nothing wrong i don’t mean literally. he’s a complex character who can be an asshole sometimes. i’m not saying he wasn’t in the wrong in some banters with merrill or fenris. what i MEAN is that blowing up the chantry was based and i’m in love with him

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OGHREN KONDRAT • DRAGON AGE: AWAKENING

Came here thinkin’ I’d try my hand at becoming a bona fide Grey Warden.

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All three of my canon wardens for good measure

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The Fereldan in Lowtown that says "We know what happens to mages in this town, and it AIN'T gonna happen to him" implies to ME that Ferelden just has mages all over randomly that townspeople get attached to and all collectively agree to be cool about.

There's something about the difference, like it highlights that it's DIFFERENT, and we played the mage origin in the previous game so we saw that mages DO get captured, people DO turn them in. But apparently not everyone! It's like. It makes it seem like your average Fereldan would look on this. As a Dick Move.

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Fenris doesn’t often like penetration. It’s a difficult thing, one rough with bad memories and conflicting feelings. It’s not as if he doesn’t trust Kendall with this level of vulnerability, nor is it that it doesn’t feel nice, so nice, when they fuck him. It’s more just that he’d rather sex be simple, easy, uncomplicated.

Keep reading

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“You can touch me wherever you like, you know.”

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“Fenris–fuck–”

Keep reading

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bioware bring back this energy

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Anders again, been playing Awekening and can’t handle it

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Do you ever think that, by Act 3, the majority of the crew gets really protective of their mages? This was mostly prompted because I went to the Viscount's keep with just Anders and Hawke in the party, and I was acutely aware of the fact that there were templars everywhere. To the point where I could even see my Hawke getting into a panic over it if he's not careful. I just imagine that, after once or twice of this happening, the rogues and warriors insist on at least one of them accompanying the mages at all times. Not because any of them are defenseless —far from it— but because all it takes is for one templar to be in a bad mood, one templar to dispel their magic, and they're being hauled off to the Gallows. Possibly made Tranquil. And maybe it's my personal bias speaking but, for all his distrust with mages, I can definitely see Fenris being the main enforcer of this rule in the group. No matter the mage. He's just obviously quicker to get frustrated with or scold Anders and Merrill. Doesn't mean he's gonna abandon them though, especially after knowing each other for years.

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Dear Hawke, I have the relic, and I am gone. I'm sorry it has to be this way. You've been a loyal ally, but this is best for us both. You promised me the relic, and I know you'll fight Castillon for me, but I don't want this. I've dragged you too far into this mess already. You don't have to forgive me, but I hope you understand. Isabela

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“You’re not sleeping again.”

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finally posted some shit. might do some prompts later or something, i missed writing shorter pieces.

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Fenris doesn't often like penetration. It's a difficult thing, one rough with bad memories and conflicting feelings. It's not as if he doesn't trust Kendall with this level of vulnerability, nor is it that it doesn't feel nice, so nice, when they fuck him. It's more just that he'd rather sex be simple, easy, uncomplicated.

For Kendall, being fucked is entirely uncomplicated. Their only experience with it has been Fenris, only his body over or under them when they're being slid into, opened up. And though it's neither of their go tos for a good fuck, largely because it's a chore of stretching and strapping on gear, it is an enjoyable experience when they do.

Tonight, they've gone through the ordeal for the sake of enjoyment. For the sake of Fenris laying back, propped on pillows, while Kendall rides the strap on, pressing the base into him just so on their downward motions that they're both feeling just right. For the sake of how neither of them need more than each other's mouths and fingers but sometimes it's just fun to bring some toys along.

For the joy of Fenris reaching up and cupping one of their tits in his hand, his other hand grasping at their hip, and rubbing his thumb over their nipple.

"You make me do all the work," Kendall pants, "then get to just enjoy a show too."

It's teasing, but Fenris hisses out a soft "M'sorry," all the same and slides his hand on their hip down to rub their clit. Kendall shudders, lurching forward a little, and Fenris wraps his other arm around their middle, dragging them closer to bury his face between their tits. It's not the easiest angle to move in but they keep grinding down against him and he keeps rubbing his thumb between their pussy lips so they both stay right where they need to be anyway.

Fenris didn't think himself a "tits man" before. He'd hated his own, after all, and Kendall's swaying hips and thighs had been what had first drawn his gaze anyway. But there's a comfort unlike any other he feels with his face pressed to them, kissing and nipping at the tender skin. Kendall, for their part, adores the attention he gives them. So it works out more than alright for the both of them.

"You're lucky you're cute," Kendall breathes, voice hitching a little when Fenris finds one of their nipples and nips gently at it.

They couldn't deny him a single indulgence if they tried.

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"You can touch me wherever you like, you know."

It's their third night together when Aberdeen says it. It's not her usual teasing means of addressing such, ah, mature matters either. It's gentle, voice soft as she reaches out and takes his hand.

"I won't break."

It hadn't occurred to Alistair that she'd noticed. Admittedly, he was careful… for a few reasons. The elf was so, so desperately tiny compared to him; petite and soft from her life spent locked away in the tower. Additionally, it was more than a little intimidating anyway; he knew she wouldn't be mad if he did something wrong somehow, she'd never, but oh how he fretted himself into a fit anyway.

"I know, you're stronger than I am," he told her with a sheepish grin.

"Then you don't have to wait for me to direct you."

The first time together, she'd noticed his nerves and helped. Placed his hands here and there, shown him where she liked to be touched and kissed, set a pace for him in his lap while he held her hips and pressed their foreheads together. And, oh Maker, he loved that. Both the feeling and the comfort of being shown what to do, told how she wanted to be touched.

But by now he'd committed everything he could to memory. He knew where to kiss, where to squeeze, where to gently trail his fingers to make her shiver. He'd run it over in his mind millions of times now. But he still hesitated the last time when she'd drawn him into her tent and slipped out of her clothes for him. Still grasped at the air nervously until she'd guided one hand between her legs and the other to her face. Taught him how to please her with his fingers while she sucked on his, leaving him utterly awash in feelings when she'd finally slid down and put her mouth on him. And even then she'd taken the time to gently guide his hand to her hair, letting him know he didn't have to simply ball his hands into fists at his side while she sucked him off.

Now, she was watching him with that skeptical little frown she got when she was pondering someone. Swallowing hard, he reached out his other hand, not the one gently captured between hers, and drew her closer. It was the barest hint of a touch, just a light clasp on her side, but it was enough that she knew how to respond and piled herself in his lap, nude and dainty and beautiful.

And his, all his. His that had said he could touch her how he liked.

"What's the matter?" she asks, nuzzling under his chin.

He coils his arms around her, protective. Feels her press a kiss to his throat as she waits for his answer.

"I'm nervous."

Aberdeen laughs, not cruelly, and nuzzles another kiss against his throat. "What, you think if you aren't a god of sex I'll kick you from my bedroll in a second?"

"No," he says, and means it. She loves him, he can feel that much, she'd have him even if he couldn't please her at all.

"Then what is it?"

"I just… want to make you feel good."

Aberdeen hums, still nuzzling at him. "Want to know a secret?" Alistair makes an affirmative grunt. "You do."

"But…"

But that's when you lead, he means to say. But Aberdeen tuts softly before he can finish.

"Never felt like I do about you about anyone else," she tells him. "I want to give you so much. I want to keep you. I want to give you… myself. You can have what you want."

Alistair thinks of the little noises she makes, somewhere between frustration and pleasure, when he thrusts up into her when she's on top. He thinks of the goosebumps raising on her skin when he trails feather light touches along her back and stomach. He thinks of when he'd grabbed her ass to help her guide him back inside her when his cock had slipped free and she'd let out a giggle loud enough he was certain the whole camp knew what they were doing.

He wants all of that and more. Forever. As long as she'll have him in her bed.

He also wants her cuddled in his lap like she is now. He wants her sleeping on his chest, tucked into his bedroll with him in nothing but a pair of shorts, cheek pressed to one of his pecs. He wants the way she smiles when he catches her eye out of the blue, cheeks tinted red before she winks and looks away, making his ears go pink.

"I want you," he says.

Aberdeen untangles herself from him and he reaches after her, needy. She catches his hand, fingers gently twining with his, but doesn't stop until she's sprawled out comfortably on his bedroll. He takes in the sight a moment, mouth dry, of her body naked and waiting. When his eyes reach the curls of hair between her legs she lets her thighs fall open and Maker save him if he wasn't hard before it's painful now.

Pretty perky little tits is where his eyes end up fixed after a moment. She'd joked before, when she'd guided his hands to them, that they weren't much in his hands but fuck he loved them. Had wanted to touch them again, a few times, but had chickened out when she didn't put his hands there again. Now, with an offer like this, he swallows his nerves before crawling over her and sinking down to nuzzle his face between them.

Aberdeen laughs but the noise hitches in her throat delightfully when he starts peppering kisses across her chest. The scratch of stubble and chapped but soft lips are enough to get her squirming and tangling her fingers in his hair in seconds.

It's not a reaction he'd expected, she almost seems shy in her flutters of giggling and cradling his head there. But she likes it, he can tell that much when her fingernails gently scratch at his scalp.

"You're ridiculous," she laughs, breathless. "Spread my legs open for you and you wanna play with these tiny things."

"I like them," Alistair murmurs against her skin. He does. They're small but it's just the right size for his palms. Just right for his mouth, nipples perky when he brushes his lips over them.

He hears Aberdeen's breath catch a little and when he cocks his head a little to look up at her she's blushing, smile all soft on the edges. "Thanks," she mumbles. "Never had anyone pay them much mind."

This makes him want to spend hours on them. But her thighs are framing his hips and when he shifts a little he presses his stomach near her pussy and it's warm and he remembers how it felt inside and… and he's got to get out of his pants.

He only manages to free his cock, pants halfway down his ass, before the idea of further struggle isn't worth it and he takes what he's gotten. Shifts to line his hips up with hers and realizes, rapidly, how he's probably going to prefer her on top simply because of their size difference. Because at this angle he has to crane his neck down to see her face and even then he doesn't get a proper look at her face when he lines his dick up and slides inside her.

He gives it a good try anyway, a few good and deep thrusts where she whines and claws at his back, before he gathers her in his arms and lifts her, shifting back to sit on the tent floor with her piled on his lap. The change in angle makes her moan and grab onto him more desperately and Alistair smiles and uses the new–better, in his humble opinion–angle to nuzzle his face against her neck.

"I like when you ride me," he whispers against her skin, cheeks hot in spite of himself–in spite of the fact they're actively fucking and all. "But I think I'll move you this time."

To illustrate his plan, he cups her ass in his hands and bounces her on his cock. Aberdeen replies with a string of curses, back arching, and he's fairly sure from that alone he has her approval but the desperate whisper of "yes, thank you, baby" settles itself somewhere deep in his brain to be kept forever.

The past two times he's been unable to outlast her. It's nothing that seemed to bother her, if anything she'd treated it as a chance to show him ways to please her without his cock. But it means he's a bit shocked when he feels himself getting close only to have her muffle a cry against his chest, nails digging at his back and pussy spasming around his dick. It's a particularly wet orgasm, his thrusts as he draws her through it met with gushes of fluid, and she trembles in his arms all through. In one of the final thrusts, her pussy squeezing the life from him, he comes too, buried inside her, and crushes his face against her shoulder to hide from the wash of emotions that hit him.

They're sweaty and sticky, his lap wet with both their end, panting for air. He feels Aberdeen pressing kisses to his chest, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair. When she moved her kisses upward, to his neck and jawline, she starts to shush him soothingly and cradle him against her shoulder and it's only then he realizes he's sniffling, eyes wet and stinging.

"You feel so good," he whispers against her shoulder. "You're so perfect."

Aberdeen smiles and presses her lips to his temple. "Right back at you, sweetheart. Haven't come that hard in my life. Thank you."

After they clean up and settle down he shuffles their spots until he's spooning her. And while it's not as nice as her head on his chest, and he's sure she'll end up there eventually, it's nice holding her like this. His whole world. Wrapped up safe in his arms.

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"Fenris–fuck–"

Kendall squirms, thighs clenching, and curses softly. Their hands grip at the sheets then slack, pressing their palms into the mattress. Fenris watches this, mouth still on them, licking long and slow at their clit, and considers a moment before reaching up and gently taking their hands. One he brings to his head, pressing Kendall's hand to his hair until he feels them grasp at it, and the other he slots their fingers together, squeezing gently.

The mage's face is flushed, cheeks rosy and brown skin slick with sweat. Their eyes are closed, squeezed shut, and their hair is a mess on the pillows behind them. A vision. Fenris fondly remembers the first time he truly got them worked up–not the awkward shuffling, getting to know each other, of their first time and ensuing aborted relationship but instead when he'd come back, years later, and gotten them off with his fingers and mouth until they'd nearly lost their voice from moaning and whining.

Kendall likes to get him off too; Fenris likes the sight of their head between his legs, likes the feel of their mouth and their fingers inside him, likes when they tangle their legs with his and grind against him. But he likes getting them off. Likes having them at his mercy, likes having them fall apart at his touch, likes how they taste.

Before his Hawke, he hadn't known a partner he enjoyed these things with. He was used, mostly, and at best he took partners after he'd escaped as a distraction, or to scratch that itch. They were never ones he took his time with. Never something he savored.

Kendall, he savored. Whether it was them clenching around his fingers when they came or their tongue on his clit, warm and wet and perfectly focused on pleasing him. Few partners, unless he paid them, had been focused on pleasing him instead of themselves. And even with pay it didn't compare to Kendall's adoring focus when they asked, breathless, "Is that good?"

Now, he doesn't need to ask them the same. Not with their hand grasping at his hair like a lifeline. Not with their fingers squeezing his so tight. Not with the taste of their pussy on his tongue. He knows it's good for them, knows they're enjoying themselves when they whimper as he uses his free hand to slide a finger inside them.

He wouldn't care what parts Kendall had, really, but he's sort of tickled they have a pussy too. He knows those, after all. Has experience with what feels nice. And though everyone is different he knows they're going to whine and arch their back when he crooks his fingers inside them and it's just nice having something so pleasantly predictable to look forward to.

When they come, perhaps for the 3rd or 4th time (he's lost count)--a final time for the night, they sniffle and throw their arm over their face. Kendall is endearingly emotional; Fenris was their first, their only, and they're not afraid to lapse into lovey emotional shit in the afterglow over how good he makes them feel. Tonight is no exception as Fenris wipes his hand and chin on the sheets before stretching out beside them and pulling them into an embrace.

"Thank you," Kendall whines against his throat, then, "I'm sorry, I'm so stupid."

His embrace tightens protectively. "You are not," he tells them. "You are my heart, I feel as you do."

He's glad he was their first, even if their first time was fumbled and jarred him so badly it took years to recover. He's glad he's their only, because he doesn't trust another soul not to make them self conscious about their tenderhearted nature. The idea that someone else might have made them feel badly about crying out their sappy afterglow high makes him hold them just a little closer, pressing his nose into their hair.

Kendall is soft and tender and perfect, utterly and completely. Fenris would be lost without them.

On the occasion he uses a strap on cock to fuck them, which is rarer than he cares to admit mostly due to his own eagerness to make them moan, they hold to him for dear life. Arms and legs wrapped around him while he thrusts into them, savoring the hiccupped whimpers the particularly good snaps of his hips provide. He pinned their hands once, wanting to lean back and enjoy the view, only to be met with a wobbly lower lip and a soft "Please, wanna hold you" that made his heart shutter and warm at the same time. So he'd scooped them close again, face buried against their throat, and whispered for them to hold on, sweetheart, as tight as they wanted.

They hold so tight. Like he'll fly away. Like he'll vanish. Like they're afraid he might… might run away again. He doesn't like to think about that but he knows, in the back of his mind, why their tender heart needs to hold him so close.

Kendall sniffles and rubs a hand against their eye, pulling him from his thoughts as they lean in and bump their nose against his. He responds as he always does, tilting his head and leaning in for a kiss. They kiss him like a drowning victim finally getting air and his chest aches slightly. When they part, he presses their foreheads together.

"Better?" he asks softly. When they nod, he smiles and runs his fingers down their spine lightly. "Sleep now."

Kendall chews their lower lip before asking the same thing they always ask of him. "Stay?"

Fenris smiles and nuzzles his face against theirs, noses bumping together. "Always."

And he means it. And he'll be there every time they wake for the rest of their lives if they'll have him. And he's happy. Just… happy to be near them.