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pet peeve is when a fellow hater conducts their haterism such that they leave the hater community vulnerable to attack. “i think characterizing Character A in x way is boring and annoying” = beautiful, flawless, unimpeachable haterism. no one can tell u that u aren’t allowed to find a certain characterization boring. “it is morally/objectively wrong to characterize Character A in x way” = sloppy, reactionary, overcommitting. you have left our eastern flank open to attack girl what the hell….now my dedicated hater troops are taking fire from YOUR enemies fuckkkkk

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Here is the full dialogue for Spawn!Astarion reaction to the player sleeping with Mizora. I used this parser to get dialogue and voice files. The dialogue does not trigger yet in game!! So this is a spoilers.

Please DO NOT REUPLOAD. Only share the link. It took me ages to put it all together, but also this is technically not in game yet.

To understand the dialogue tree, this is how it looks (I added a picture in cut):

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Graves is such a fun piece of shit to think about. Just his fucking thoroughly and insurmountably American sense of infallibility crossbred into a notion of immortality that is purpose built into white straight American men—he can’t die or be sick or become prey, that shit happens to other people.

Like this dude has the stench of legacy on him. Could’ve been an officer, but, nah, has something to prove. Feels like a perpetual second place finishes with a grudge. Maybe had an older brother he was always only just trailing, but could never meet neck and neck, let alone surpass. Dad probably kept the oldest on his hip, a big fucking iron to fire at Phillip. Bet Phillip had to fight for every scrap of attention that man ever showed him, and still Dad only called for the oldest on his deathbed, reaching out to the oldest while life support could not save his dying body.

Did it matter that the oldest was dead, and that death is what put the old man in the ground? Did it matter that he reached for the oldest, but he found Phillip instead? Did it matter that at the very last breath, Dad��the Major, the Man, the Master of the Fucking Universe—couldn’t tell the godDAMNED DIFFERENCE between the two of them?

And, haha, what the fuck would that matter anyway? C’mon now. Phillip always knew the bitter old fuck put his money on the wrong horse. And, besides that, he was dumb. Stupid as a motherfucker, even, for putting all of his eggs in one basket. They all splattered when the basket wrapped itself around a tree doing 90 on those back roads. Got dark at night around Fort Hood, where the oldest was stationed, where the oldest started drinking and stopped talking after something bad happened.

The baby of the family ran off long before that, though, like a fuckin’ traitor. Of course, he’s a middle child, and of course he’s the only one that stuck around. Someone had to, for Chrissake. The oldest was too busy playing daddy’s golden goose, and the fuckin’ baby ran away to Smith College, dyed her hair purple, started fuckin’ women, and stopped shaving her fucking armpits. SOMEONE had to fucking STAY.

Phillip was the right choice for it.

I mean, c’mon, haha.

He was the only choice.

We all know that.

I mean, he’s a good country boy. A real red-blooded American male. And what good ol’ boy working stick around to make sure his mom was all set and taken care of? After all, she’s lost so much. A good woman like that shouldn’t have to go through so much grieving in one life. And any southern son worth his salt would say they love their mama.

And Phillip does. He loves his mom. Does the whole shebang. When he made made it through Ranger school, he bought her yellow roses. When he left the Rangers to start Shadow Company, with his dad’s dear old friend General Shepherd playing mentor and high roller, he bought her a house. When Shadow Company started rolling in that fuckin’ mad money, he bought her a goddamned Yorkie that pisses on EVERYTHING in the GODDAMNED FUCKING HOUSE.

But that’s what you do for mom. Tiffany silver on Mother’s Day, a Ford Expedition on her birthday. What’s the point of having credit cards if they aren’t constantly maxed the fuck out and bleeding your credit score down to nothing like a pig with a slit throat?

Haha, I mean, c’mon.

He loves his mom. Even if she can be a nagging bitch a lot of the time, and the most demanding, selfish, ungrateful, cold-ass woman he’s ever met in his life. And she just looks at him in a weird way that makes him want to snap her wrist, and he could do it, and she probably doesn’t even know he can. Doesn’t even know how close he’s come to executing it.

But, you know. That’s how moms are. Just women in general. They tend to get their panties in a twist and shutdown. It’s what his mom did at his wedding. It’s what his wife did right before the divorce. But, wow, helluva ceremony. His girl was a smoke show, a real fuckin’ rodeo queen. But a guy makes one mistake and fucks a little slip of a thing while he was overseas for months on end, and that’s not forgivable. Would’ve never even come up, if the stupid bitch didn’t show up on his goddamned doorstep wanting to surprise him.

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Some misc. Wyll facts I collected while browsing his dialogue files like a madman

If Wyll dies and you ask his corpse what is ultimate goal is, his response is "Freedom from Mizora".

Wyll's mother died when he was born. Growing up, he was so close with his father that he never felt like he needed anyone else, but as an adult, he's questioned what it might have been like had she lived.

Wyll does not consider himself a man of faith - in fact, he resents "the so-called good gods for tolerating the curelty of the evil" - but rather believes "the faith that matters is that which you hold in yourself, in the ones that most matter to you."

More than one devnote reveals Wyll intentionally tries to downplay his emotions. Example: "Not too sad outwardly even though he is."

Wyll's father trained him how to use a rapier, sword, and bow.

Wyll uses "a light spritz from a vial of jasmine dust" as perfume.

Wyll considered dukes to be hypocritcal for their diplomacy with bad people.

When Wyll was a young boy, he was smitten by Stelmane.

When Wyll was eight, he snuck into the Counting House to see if the rumours of mythical treasure it held were true. The guard spotted him and took him straight back to his father.

When Wyll was fourteen, he had his first alcoholic beverage, and got so tipsy from wine that he puked in Dillard Portyr's bushes.

Wyll had his first kiss in The Blushing Mermaid when he was fifteen.

Wyll claims he's spent some time in the Underdark in his adventures as the Blade.

Wyll says he's killed a vampire-spawn before, when Player!Astarion confesses he's one himself.

Wyll claims his toughest kill was a minotaur, and one of his scars is from the battle.

Seven years prior to the game, he made his pact with Mizora to defeat the Cult of the Dragon, and was disowned and exiled from Baldur's Gate by his father. He was seventeen at the time.

Five years prior to the game, he took on the mantle of the Blade of Frontiers, after rescuing a child from a band of goblin attackers near the Cloakwood.

Karlach calls Wyll her best friend.

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Their sex life is, apologies for the pun, completely fucked. At least, at first. Yder almost classes what she tosses to Astarion as pity fucks, and, in turn, he’s dicking her down to earn security. She’s a married woman, or so it seems. She talks of a husband. She’s got as few morals as he does. If nothing else, it’s good for blackmail. Extortion is an art, much the same as torture, much the same as poetry.

It’s all the same in the end.

But he’s always the one to come traipsing along to her door. He sometimes yowls, he sometimes chirps. In rare moments, he brushes against her, purring. He’s playing an angle, she knows. She’s hardly a quality cut of meat—badly butchered, an apt name-thing to put to herself. But he needs something from it, from fucking her, and, maybe the Lords and Ladies would curse her inside-out for the stupidity, she doesn’t want him to stray far. Who else would share their thoughts, who else’s would mirror hers, if not his?

And, gods dammit, it’s fun. It’s fun. Neither thought they’d see the day. The burgeoning of stupid, silly games. His awful lines, her put-on doe eyes. Her ugly, belting laughter lost in his curls, the spark in his eyes as his dramatic flames are fanned higher and higher, have greedy on her soft hips and fat ass.

How about these little words? Everyone’s favorite. I love you.

Soft and weak as puppies’ jaws, and an utter fabrication. But her gut is warm with wine too-sweet, and her head is cottonwoolen by weed.

“Too soon, yes or no?” she succumbs to her amused laughter, her warmed-through sway. To do otherwise would be an act of submission to the pit of worms crawling creepily up her throat to give their own voice to the matter.

Well, it could be true. If only for tonight.

“Ooh.” She cants her hips an angle closer, resting a leg, pushing a knee closer to him. “I was not possessed of the idea you enjoyed make-pretend and fairy-stories, Lamb. There’s a fondness in you for playing?”

The smolder in his undercut look falters, and, despite himself, he snorts, throwing a lean, curving shrug. “Maybe I do, darling. Nothing wrong with a spot of roleplay, is there? And if that’s another area of inexperience for you, I’d be more than happy to fill you in.”

“Unsubtle as a long day, aren’t you,” she comments, humming. There was not an ounce of fun in the way her husband fucked. He had a goal, more often than not to fell her pregnant (though it had failed many times, until it didn’t), and he had no recourse for humor in the bedroll. Pity, then, that his fine sense of humor was wasted so. “If that is what you wish, that is what will pass. Let me sober, some. Then, we’ll love each other for tonight?”

For a slight second, he seems to continue in his stride, but pulls his reins up short at the very last moment. Oh, he can’t act, his body screams beyond the safety of the script. “Oh—we will?” he starts, head pulled back into a judging, down-the-nose angle. But he dances diagonal back into place, smirking, flashing fangs for her delight. “What am I saying—of course, we will.”

A few words scatter no more grandiose than pebbles between them after, until Astarion, in his growing ease with bodies-in-contact, draws a fingertip behind the opal hanging from her earring.

“Try to arrive at our rendezvous…pink, won’t you, my love? I think it’s very sweet.” It’s hardly a hard ask—her seasons begin to shift with the breath caught bone-jagged in her throat.

+

Full is the mania of her spring—pink and hysterical as the lotuses that drive their eaters mad—just the same as when first she followed dumbly the trail he left her to parse through the woods. Gambit turned half-habit, a fox with the gift of a dumb, willing rabbit.

It was becoming clear that each of them, together, were neither and both. Wolves under the fleece of sheep, sheep that had long lacked the spired shadows of spiked guardian collars. A pair of prey animals, with lusts for blood too well understood.

How lucky it was, then, that they both came with their own dagger-point protections. And luckier still: they’d pacted themselves to a mutual safeguarding.

“Ah, look at that! You did turn pink. Very generous of you.” This will be the third rendezvous, if these continued encounters must be built to suffer a name, and Astarion had ceased the coy cat-and-mouse reveal, little by little. Now he stands alongside the pack they share, and his lone bedroll, unfurled and laden with extra blankets. There’s the scruffy, raggedy one of his—the one he seems to protect dearly and squirrel away from prying eyes—hidden under the corner of what Yder presumes will be his side tonight. “Hope everything is to your liking, I’ve put it together especially for you, my darling.”

Bats away the urge to roll her eyes cat-like (the fey touched prosthetic is still a strange feeling in her socket, one she tries dearly to dwell naught upon), and surveys the tableau he’s constructed for them. It’s rather simple. A small campsite, their shared pack, and not much else, not even a fire. The moon filters through the canopy, dappling the ground and their bodies with pale light, and far away, closer to the river, tree frogs sing trilling notes.

“Mine isn’t a mine for narratives, that arena is more belonging to you,” she says, tamping down the urge to rub her left hand over the scared expanse where once an arm connected to the other side of her body. This entire farce is some ploy, there’s no other way the vampire spawn would look at her once, let alone twice. Badly butchered, her own words supplied by her husband’s voice. “What’s it you’re picturing here?”

The snotty grimace that curls his lip and wrinkles his nose is a reprieve, it makes her laugh, and he tosses a hand around in a wide, half-wild gesture

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Handful of mouth

https://patreon.com/bwusagi

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Uncommon Questions for OCs and their creators:

Send me a # (questions for OCs) or a letter (questions for creators) and I’ll answer

QUESTIONS FOR YOUR OCs

What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

How easy is it for your character to laugh?

How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)

How easy is it to earn their trust?

How easy is it to earn their mistrust?

Do they consider laws flexible, or immovable?

What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child

Do they swear? Do they remember their first swear word?

What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?

How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?

How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach?

What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?

What animal do they fear most?

How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first?

What makes their stomach turn?

Are they easily embarrassed?

What embarrasses them?

What is their favorite number?

If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?

Why do they get up in the morning? 

How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)? 

How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)? 

 Is sex something that they’re comfortable speaking about? To whom? 

 What are their thoughts on marriage? 

 What is their preferred mode of transportation? 

 What causes them to feel dread? 

 Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth? 

 Do they usually live up to their own ideals? 

 Who do they most regret meeting? 

 Who are they the most glad to have met? 

 Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke? 

 Could they be considered lazy? 

 How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt? 

 How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they supportive? 

Do they actively seek romance, or do they wait for it to fall into their lap? 

Do they have a system for remembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a certain order (like anagrams, putting things to melodies, etc)? 

What memory do they revisit the most often? 

How easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people? 

How sensitive are they to their own flaws?

How do they feel about children? 

How badly do they want to reach their end goal? 

If someone asked them to explain their sexuality, how would they do so? 

QUESTIONS FOR CREATORS

A) Why are you excited about this character? B) What inspired you to create them? C) Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story? D) Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look? E) Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you? F) What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)? G) What trait of theirs bothers you the most? H) What trait do you admire most? I) Do you prefer to keep them in their canon universe? J) Did you have to manipulate or exclude canon factors to allow them to create their character?

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Drabble List

Please specify which list you’re choosing from

Fluff:

1 - “I love you. I hope you know that.” 2 - “I bought this because I thought you’d like it.” 3 - “I just feel safe with you. Like nothing bad can happen.” 4 - “You’re adorable, and I can’t believe I have you all to myself.” 5 - “Are you warm enough? “ 6 - “I don’t like when you say things like that. To me, you’re perfect.” 7 - “I like it when you say my name.” 8 - “I care about you. I’ve always cared about you.” 9 - “You’re soft and warm and I don’t want you to move.” 10 - “I love kissing you.” 11 - “I’m just glad you’re safe. I wouldn’t know what to do if I lost you.” 12 - “Welcome home.” 13 - “God, you’re so beautiful.” 14 - “You make me want to become a better person.” 15 - “She’s/he’s not my boyfriend!” 16 - “I always want to kiss you.” 17 - “I’m really lucky to have you.” 18 - “I think it’s adorable how easily you blush.” 19 - “I just want to take care of you.” 20 - “Don’t tell me not to worry, because I’m going to do that anyway.” 21 - “I made you some breakfast.” 22 - “If you’re so cold, why didn’t you say something? Come here.” 23 - “I guess time flies when you’re with somebody you love.” 24 - “I never want you to think you’re anything less than my top priority.” 25 - “You look really cute in that.”

Angst:

1 - “No, I don’t want to say goodbye. Not now.” 2 - “I think I might be better off without you.” 3 - “Don’t tell me what to do.” 4 - “I don’t want to do this without you.” 5 - “I thought we were friends.” 6 - “Stop yelling and listen for a second.” 7 - “What you did what stupid and dangerous and scared the hell out of me.” 8 - “I just want you to be safe. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.” 9 - “Please, just…be safe. Come back to me.” 10 - “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you trusted me.” 11 - “Don’t cry. Everything’s going to be okay.” 12 - “Who did this? Who hurt you?” 13 - “I love you, not them.” 14 - “Am I not good enough?” / “I’m not good enough.” 15 - “I’m so, so sorry.” 16 - “This is all your fault.” 17 - “But I only just got home.” 18 - “Don’t say that. You’re going to be okay.” 19 - “Please don’t leave.” 20 - “I know you didn’t mean it, but it still hurt.” 21 - “I wish I didn’t have these feelings, but I do.” 22 - “Why would you think something like that?” 23 - “Look me in the eye and tell me you love me.” 24 - “I thought I’d never see you again.” 25 - “You can’t just leave like this.”

Smut:

1 - “I missed you so much.” 2 - “Like what you see?” 3 - “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” 4 - “You’re so perfect. And I’m so fucking lucky.” 5 - “Try to stay quiet, understand?” 6 - “We’re in public, you know.” 7 - “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.” 8 - “Don’t be so rough. There can’t be any marks.” 9 - “Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.” 10 - “I like it when you say my name like that.” 11 - “I heard shower sex is dangerous, but right now, I’m willing to take the risk.” 12 - “I really don’t care. You still look hot and I’m trying not to kiss you senseless right now.” 13 - “You’re so much fun to touch.” 14 - “Can I at least take my shoes off before you pounce on me?” 15 - “Are you sure? Once we start, I might not be able to stop.” 16 - “No, I’m supposed to be making you feel good.” 17 - “Oh my God, do that again.” 18 - “You can be wearing a trashbag, and I’d still want you.” 19 - “I thought maybe we can do a little more than just kissing.” 20 - “I’m going to be late because you can’t keep it in your pants.”

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I seem to remember something about Dragon's Peak being an inactive volcano too?

Oh damn cool, you’re right!

“The city rests at the foot of the Dragon’s Peak, a solitary mountain scarred by ancient lava flows. During Andraste’s lifetime, it reputedly filled the sky with a great column of black ash and sent burning rock raining down as far away as the Free Marches, but it is now considered extinct. Some believe it merely sleeps, and will again darken the sky with ash and fire when the last Fereldan king dies, but this is highly unlikely.”–Codex entry: Denerim

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One of the things that hurts me most about Bethany and Carver is how neither of them really get what they want out of life, regardless of which path they take in Dragon Age 2. 

And one of things I have noticed on my current Bethany playthrough after my many, many Carver playthroughs is how much more similar the Hawke twins are than I’ve seen talked about in fandom – because, ultimately, their fears and worries come down to the same thing. It is easy to miss, though, because they express themselves so differently. 

In my playthrough, Bethany is not necessarily the cheerful “sunshine” and the optimistic “sweet little sister” I often see her depicted as. Carver is not necessarily the grumpy, sullen “middle child” type (although it’s never explicitly confirmed that he’s actually a middle child) I often see him depicted as, either. Bethany has her hard, frosty edges. Carver has his soft, caring ones. 

Both twins are foils for each other in many ways – Bethany the mage, Carver the warrior; Bethany the one who openly talks about her feelings, Carver the one who doesn’t; Bethany the one who’s overtly religious/devout, while Carver is privately so; Bethany expresses through her words, Carver expresses through his actions; Bethany, who starts on high friendship with (and admiration of) Hawke while Carver… definitely doesn’t – but their character arcs in DA2 and even many of their dialogues and reactions are the same. 

Note that when you go to Sundermount in Act 1, Flemeth’s advice to them is exactly the same, regardless of how opposite Bethany and Carver seem on the surface. 

“Regret is something I know well. Take care not to cling to it, to hold it so close that it poisons your soul.” 

Curious, no? Why does Flemeth have the same advice for them on regret, despite Bethany being the “sunny” one and Carver being the “sulky” one? 

In a Regency AU longfic of mine, I write Bethany as the sunny, cheerful twin, but with a bit of the snark she has in game. The narrative choice I made to deviate her character from canon was because her circumstances are so different: both Hawke twins are alive, for a start. Bethany, in my AU, has every reason to be happy: she isn’t a mage, she is nobility, she lives in a nice house and has nice dresses and goes to parties where she got to flirt with a handsome prince and lives the life that she canonically loved so much in stories she read growing up. 

The Bethany in-game is… not quite like that. The Bethany in-game is worried. She is constantly looking over her shoulder for templars. The Bethany in-game talks with animation and interest and longing about what their life might have been like if they got to be Amells and nobility – no poverty, no hiding, no running, no make-shift dresses that Leandra learned to sew when she ran away with Malcolm – but also with a twinge of regret that her life couldn’t be like that. That her life couldn’t ever be like her dreams, like the stories she loves. 

The Bethany in-game is, as Carver tells you in the Legacy DLC, a girl who wanted so badly to just be “normal”. No magic. No hiding. No looking over her shoulder all the time for fear that the templars might come. Bethany is canonically a virgin in Act 1 but not because she’s this innocent, virginal sweet-little-sister type – but because she was forced to hide. She couldn’t get too close to anyone, couldn’t let them ever see the real her, because she was a mage – and because who could she trust, other than her family, not to sell her out to the templars? World of Thedas 2 talks about how she “never did anything fun [and] stayed down in her house most of the time.” It’s likely she didn’t want to be like that, but that she felt forced to be like that. 

(Carver had more freedom in that respect – able to moon after Peaches or even get busy with her behind Old Barlin’s barn without worrying that he might accidentally reveal himself as a mage. It’s a secret that is easier to keep when it’s not you that’s the mage. And yet, even then, both Hawke twins found ways to help their neighbours and community in Lothering – we learn from Act 2 letters that Carver helped a neighbour trap rats in the cellar, while Bethany helped the neighbour weed.)

And then, just when Bethany comes so close to that ideal life that she always wanted and dreamed of – just as Hawke is about to hit the jackpot and reclaim the Amell Estate, and end all her worries about being a poor apostate unprotected by money or title (for that’s what the whole Deep Roads Expedition is about: Carver even says they need money, influence, status, anything to get the templars off their backs) – her dreams are denied, again. She either goes to the Wardens or gets taken to the Circle. 

As a Warden, Bethany is obviously harder, bitter. Her interactions with you have more bite, less affection, and her regrets about the life she is now forced to lead are obvious. But I argue that while she seems “happier” in the Circle, she is not necessarily so. She is just better at hiding it in her letter to you – and focuses on the fact that at least she is no longer forced to hide anymore. Her meeting with you during the Qunari battle at the end of Act 2 as a Circle mage is anything other than sunny: she is even cold towards Hawke: 

Hawke: ‘It’s a Hawke family reunion!”  Bethany, bitterly: “What’s left of it.” 

Or even: 

Hawke: “I’m glad you’re safe.” Bethany: “The city is under attack. None of us are safe.” 

Or even her angry response about you getting involved in Orsino and Meredith’s argument at the end of Act 3. Even as a Circle mage, you can hear the bitterness in her voice – and if she comes back and fights with you as a Warden, it is obvious (at least to me) that she is still struggling to make peace with her new life and how its cost her even more than she thought her status as a mage already cost you all. 

But, as far as Bethany is concerned, at least in the Circle, she is no longer forced to hide anymore. If she can’t join you in (what she perceives, perhaps with some hint of envy in her interactions with you in the DLCs, as) your fancy life as a noble up in Hightown, if she can’t be “normal”, then at least she can be “normal for a mage”. Fleeing is exhausting. Knowing you are the reason your family are always fleeing – or at least, one of the reasons your family is fleeing – probably brings on a lot of guilt, at best… or even regrets that you were born and caused them so much difficulty, at worst. 

Bethany spends most of the game worrying about herself, for obvious reasons. Carver, on the other hand, spends most of the game worrying about you. 

Carver’s bitterness and regrets are more obvious than Bethany’s. Carver was not the boy who wanted to be “normal”: like he tells you in Act 1, “I want to be someone.” In the Wardens, he finds his purpose, albeit at a great personal cost he often glosses over in conversation. In the Templars, he is “a man still uncertain of his choice” but if there is one thing that can be said in its favour, it was his choice, for once. Not his family’s. Not Hawke’s. After all, what else could he do, when you chose to leave him behind and Bartrand returns without you and you’re presumably dead? When Fereldan refugees cannot find employment in the city and Aveline denies his application to be a city guard (which I believe would have been the best choice for Carver, and it’s kind of bittersweet that he only gets to be one – or rather, help them out – during DA:I when he’s been a templar for so many years and is addicted to lyrium). 

His mother is in mourning during Act 1 and won’t work; his uncle gambles all his money away. The templars are the only option open to a man of someone of his skills and desperation, and he naively joins thinking he can help people like Bethany – his dead mage twin sister over whom he obviously has regrets that she was the one who died and not him. 

Basically, neither the Hawke twins got what they wanted out of this life. They are forced to make do with less-than-ideal circumstances that turn them even further away from their hopes and dreams, whichever path you choose for them. They make do, and they cope as best as they can, no matter how well or imperfectly they do it. And it gets me in the feels every time. 

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Dragon Age Writing References

Been meaning to pull this together for a while.  If you know anything good that I’ve missed, stick ‘em on the end!  I’ll reblog in a while with additions.

Dragon Age Wiki–first-stop resource for basic character and plot information, class and area info, and a lot of codices from all three games.

An Illustrated Timeline of Thedosian History–What it says on the tin, put together by @penbrydd.

Travel Times:

Ferelden travel: distances and times–DA: O specific areas, also includes interesting discussion of forced-march speeds

More travel time ideas including Inquisition areas

Thedosian Titles–Ranks and titles in Thedas, as taken from the tabletop rpg guides.

Thedosian slurs–a compilation of derogatory terms used by various Thedosian peoples.

Thedosian calendar–Thedosian dates and holidays with a speculative matchup of the Gregorian equivalents.

Human names–information on naming in Thedosian human cultures.

Qunari, dwarven, and elven names–some information and examples for each group.

How old everyone is in Inquisition–answers or best estimates using in-game or WoT information.

War Table spreadsheet–all the War Table missions, options, and outcomes.

Dragon Age Meta Nexus–a collection of meta posts drawn from Tumblr with standardized tags to facilitate search.  Fairly new.

[ragaatz]

I am so happy to have received this question because I embrace any opportunity to talk about the complexities of Alistair as a character. He is a magnificent example of resilience and positive outcomes for people who have had invalidating and traumatic childhoods, something a lot of people can relate to.  I’ve not been subtle about my disdain for the way much of the Fandom ™ has swept all of these positively wonderful and interesting aspects under the rug and characterize him as immature, unintelligent, and obsessed with cheese due to a couple lines of dialogue where he uses his deflective humor to avoid the actual gravity of some of the things he talks about.  Countless times I have had people tell me that they had been completely uninterested in Alistair because of such oversimplifications.

I made a post not too long ago [link] that compared how Alistair and Cullen handle trauma differently, but I did not delve that deeply into how Alistair’s has shaped who he is as a whole - only how he coped. This will be a long post, so… bear with me!

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[ragaatz]

Really? Those lines sound like Hawke wouldn't be gone if they'd stayed. That said, I guess you might end up with a Divine Justinia situation; a spirit of Being Done With Templar Bullshit would have copied Hawke, rather than Hawke themself surviving.

“The stone is cracked, split, jagged. The hawk would have been safe if it had stayed, but that isn’t what hawks do.”

This sounds to me like as in Hawke would have been safe if Varric didn’t bring them to Skyhold at all, which Cole could be picking up from reading Varric’s thoughts, or rather specifically, Varric’s fears/guilt of dragging Hawke into another mess.

“Voices sing, but the hawk has flown away and cannot hear them. Standing by the door. Legs stuck. I shouldn’t be here.”

This sounds to me more like Hawke dying.

[ragaatz]

I like to think that Varric heavily exaggerated all of Hawke’s buddies and Hawke herself to the point that people are always genuinely shocked when they meet any of them in real life, like, “you look nothing like how he described you in the book.”

He describes Fenris in terms of hair and personality relatively accurately, give or take, but he completely skips over and glosses over the fact that Fenris is jacked, could probably rip a tree trunk out the ground, taller than your average elf, says elves don’t grow beards but has a little scruff, looks like a force of nature, and takes up a fuck ton of space. 

[ragaatz]

Humans of Thedas (and Beyond)

“The differences between the races of Thedas go far deeper than the point of elven ears or the squat stature of the dwarves. What’s more, distinct, sometimes opposing cultures thrive within each race’s ranks, only adding to political and religious friction. The only thing all people in Thedas seem to have in common is the continent they call home.”

“While humans are the dominant race in Thedas, they are also the most fractured. The race’s tribal roots led to the evolution of distinct groups with their own languages, customs, and beliefs.”

–World of Thedas: Vol 1, pg 26

Just like our world, there is the human race, and then within the human race are different racial/ethnic backgrounds, coming from different parts of the world. This is a Cole’s Notes-type post about the humans of Thedas.

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