#adelaide hawke

[faejilly]

Lily- majesty, Sebastian ❤️

[flower prompts] Starkhaven is majestic! You will pry that fact from my cold dead hands, regardless of how it may or may not ever be portrayed by anyone else. (Also, this is a game epilogue, and takes place not long after oats.)

Hawke stopped as they crested what she had not realized was the final craggy hill before their track descended into the Minanter Valley to meet the main Trade Road.

She thought she'd been prepared for her first sight of Starkhaven, thought she'd heard enough stories from Sebastian, had watched the way Fenris spread his hands and widened his eyes whenever he came back from a trip across the Marches, had noticed when even Varric couldn't find a way to grumble about somewhere that wasn't his preferred shithole.

She was very wrong.

Isabela whistled and Merrill sighed and Adelaide blinked again, as if somehow that would change the view.

It was beautiful. Sebastian had talked about the granite they used for the roads, about new walls built whenever they'd overflowed the old ones for too long, but he'd never mentioned how it gleamed, reflecting the water and the sun, the light from above and below making it shine. Brother Genitivi had said as much in his Travels, of course, but she hadn't realized...

For the first time in her life, she thought she maybe understood why Orlesians complained about Ferelden's mud.

Even the parts of Denerim that weren't muddy tended towards brown, and this! Pale and clean, straight corners and curving walls somehow emphasizing the cliffs beyond it, the curve of the Minanter through it. It held shades of white and grey and silver, soft reds and pale tans from brick and stone and cobbles; there were even various greens just barely visible here and there, growing up taller than the walls, or visible in a gap between buildings that hinted at a garden or a court somewhere deep inside the city.

It really did look like a jewel. Strings of them; each of its walls was another necklace spilling out of the mountains and across the river until the final wall - paler and sharper than any of the others, too new to have worn down or faded into the rest of the city.

(Of course, then there was another road, and beyond that something half-city, half-market, all tents and caravans and shacks and wagons and horses and the weird furry not-horse things they rode in the desert further north, merchants and mercenaries and Maker-knew-who-else and so much dust she could see the cloud of it from here.)

"Well, shit." Merrill managed in a very clear echo of Varric's actually surprised enough to not know what to say voice.

Isabela snorted, and Adelaide felt her lips twitch in an attempted smile.

Merrill continued in her usual lighter tone. "That really makes Kirkwall look terrible, doesn't it?"

"Doesn't take much," Fenris answered.

Carver laughed, something almost a snort, an echo of their father so many years ago. Adelaide felt some of the ache in her shoulders ease at the sound, felt the earlier almost-smile return, wider and more relaxed and real this time.

"Well, shit," she agreed, though she sounded much less like Varric than Merrill had managed.

Her smile widened even further as Sebastian laughed that time, too.

He offered her his arm, and she took it, trying not to grip too tightly.

"Knock 'em dead," Isabela called after them, as they started to descend the path.

"Not literally," Fenris added.

"You just want them to save some of that for the rest of us," Carver said.

Merrill laughed that time, bright and hopeful, and Adelaide held the echoes of that sound in her heart even as she heard the shuffle of their footsteps returning to their camp back in the foothills proper.

She swallowed. Thought about where to put each foot and reminded herself to breathe as the tall pale walls drew ever closer. "Are we sure this is going to work?"

Her voice had barely had any breath behind it, but Sebastian clearly heard her.

"Not at all," he answered, his voice low but still warm, warmer than her own rough whisper had managed. "But I have hope."

"Ahh." It wasn't a sigh but it wasn't a sob or quite the break into hysterical laughter that she'd half expected to come out of her mouth. "Endless possibilities."**

"But after we lament, we can rebuild, my love." Sebastian reached a hand over to cover hers, to squeeze her fingers gently. "If not here, we'll just keep going."

Adelaide snorted. Yet it had worked; she definitely felt better. "I think we've both been uprooted more times than is plausible. Let's hope this is the last time."

She felt his shoulders shift in a shrug beside her. "As long as you're with me, I'm rooted enough."

Adelaide stopped. Sebastian didn't quite stumble as he came to a halt beside her. She closed her eyes. She lifted her head and waited.

Sebastian knew exactly what she needed, the soft press of his lips against hers so gentle her whole chest ached with it.

"I love you," she whispered. "And that is more than enough, you're right."

She opened her eyes to see him, his beautiful face, the hint of a flush high on his cheeks as he smiled at her, that bright wonder in his eyes as if he still couldn't quite believe she meant it, that they both meant it, for as long as they could hold on to each other.

She quirked a smile, ignored the burn in her throat, behind her eyes. She loved him. That would keep her going. "I should probably not keep the Seneschal waiting, though?"

"Probably best," Sebastian agreed, and he tugged gently until they both started moving again. "Marta has wanted to meet you for several years."

"What an excellent reminder to make me less nervous, darling."

Sebastian shrugged again, somehow clearly apologetic this time. She managed a laugh, and they joined the traffic on the main road, turning towards the Main Gate of Starkhaven, wide and open, giant hinges gilded with gold, guards and clerks dressed in white and red and black, shockingly bright in comparison to the crowds of merchants and farmers and travelers in more staid browns and greys and greens.

She took a deep breath, letting the weight of the past few days, weeks, years, settle as smoothly across her shoulders as she could manage. Reminded herself she wasn't just any apostate, any refugee, but Lady and Champion and beloved. Sebastian lifted his chin, and she could practically see the legacy of Vael settle across his brow, almost hiding her beloved behind a noble mask.

Almost.

He lifted a brow, the glint in his eyes as warm as it always was when he met her eyes and she nodded. Time to see what Starkhaven thought of its erstwhile Prince, the Champion of Kirkwall, and their collection of misfits, refugees, and mages seeking shelter. Time to build something new.

Again.

And again, she thought, as many times as needed.

Endless possibilities. They'd find one that worked for them. She smiled, and leaned a little into Sebastian's warmth along her side, remembering Fenris and Isabela and Merrill and Carver, waiting for them to make this first move, ready and willing to help.

Together.

[wyvernscales]

Symbols I associate with ocs - Worldstate: Then Let it be Ruby

Lucia Cousland: roses, swords, ribcages, vintage photos of women, marble statues

Rita Caron: the color blue, lace, skulls, shadows, ravens, torn and weathered flags

Adelaide Hawke: birds, the ocean, pirate ships, sand, sunset, sea glass

Tessa Adaar: fields of wildflowers, moths, lambs, flower crowns, owls

Aria Trevelyan: sunbeams, fire, heart lockets, the blade of mercy

Marzia Mercar: blood, veils, snakes, Victorian ghost pictures, claws

[greyvvardenfell]

29 and 39 for Miss Adelaide Hawke?

29.  Do they usually live up to their own ideals? 

She tries really, really hard to stay kind and compassionate throughout her messy time in Kirkwall. Her version of Malcolm instilled a strong sense of fairness in her before he died, and she's always tried to follow his example. She's accepted each new blow with as much grace as she can muster. I haven't actually played her beyond the prologue yet so I'm excited to uhhhh break her :)

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

She's very naive. Malcolm and Leandra tried to shelter her rather than rely on her, so she was kind of over-parented? She always had a lot of friends and tried to help everyone she met (she was born to be an rpg protagonist lmao). Which is all to say that she takes people at face value: if someone doesn't live their flaws, she ignores them too. Keeping the peace is far more important than honesty to her.

[auricfog]

finally have a minute to post this but i had the wonderful opportunity to commission @aevari for this painted portrait of my girlie addie 💙🤍🩷 aev went above and beyond in bringing my beautiful daughter to life! her big curly hair... her smile... cannot recommend aev enough, they were so wonderful and kind to work with 🫶

[thedragonagelesbian]

ocs + dragon age demon pairings

yippeeeeeeeeeeeeee

(tagging folks who expressed interest tytytytyty ily all smmmmm @hexblooddruid @fllagellant @ghostwise andddddd if any of you want to share for your ocs... 👀👀👀)

Vidreu Aeducan ~ Desire Demon

Dru is tricky because they aren't strongly motivated by the kinds of emotions that demons feed on. They're largely guided by academic curiosity and dispassionate pragmatism, but she could be tempted by forbidden knowledge in a heartbeat. (Indeed, she defiled the Urn of Sacred Ashes for precisely that reason.) A desire demon could readily exploit that thirst-- for answers, for understanding, for secrets.

Luc Surana ~ Despair Demon

Everything that Luc has--his anger and his snark and his defiance--either grows out of or masks a profound sense of nihilism. Nothing matters, there's no point in trying, and caring is just setting yourself up for heartbreak down the road.

(In the AU where Alistair breaks up with him after the Landsmeet, Luc summons one by accident teehee)

Cyrus Hawke ~ Pride Demon

Ohhhhhhhhhhhh won't someone please tell him what a good boy he is and what a good job he's done bleeding out for others, won't someone please give him a good grade in self-sacrifice.

As a general rule, I'm a strong believer that the best demonic temptations are precisely those that characters wouldn't think they'd be affected by, because if you know something is a flaw of yours, you can guard against it. Cyrus' humility is very genuine, but below it is a profound craving for recognition that he won't let himself acknowledge, making it the perfect weak point.

Dahlian Lavellan ~ Sloth Demon

Dahlian has been tired since the moment she first woke up in Haven, weary under the mantle of Inquisitorial duty and constantly performing as its cold, professional leader. It would take some prying to pull her away from that duty, toward restfulness, but wouldn't it be so nice to share just a moment's repose with her daughter?

Yiseeril Trevelyan ~ Hunger Demon

Yiseeril's pride is dangerous, yes, but she's been haunted by her own personal hunger demon/Fade tongue situationship, Vanity, for years and knows how to resist her temptations. What could be fatal is pushing that pride to its extreme, past ambition and into apotheosis, starved for power and sated by nothing short of godhood.

[chaos-footy]

idk if this says anything about how close this season has been, or whether this is something that happens often, but you can make a circle of parity out of the 2024 top 8!

[faejilly]

No judging! I found my links the same way! 😅

BUT I HAD NOT TRIED BAYDEWS'

so in gratitude, have an Adelaide Hawke, and the face she tries (and mostly fails) not to make every time she has to deal with Kirkwall's Nobles Being Stupid™️between Acts II & III

Dreamwidth Crosspost: The Search For Curly Bangs

Does anyone have recs for anime-ish dollmakers/picrews which allow you to set the fringe/bangs separately and have options for non-straight hair? Wavy, curly, natural, braided, dreadlocked etc, the more options the better. I'm working on a dollmaker of my own and having a little trouble figuring out a consistent style that works for all hair types. @faejilly happened to link this picrew a few days ago which does straight bangs nicely, but not any other sort. Meanwhile anime characters with curly bangs tend to have the rest of their hair curly in the same style, which is hard to extrapolate from. It doesn't have to be fully anime style as long as the art has dark lines filled with flat colours.

EDIT: Thanks to @bbgulrot for the link to Black Centered Picrew which also led me to the POC tag on picrew. (Read on Dreamwidth)

[sunnywestcoastrp]

hey rp tags! there is someone currently on the main who is ready to see your favorite famous faces here! come brighten up our dashes with them! we're always accepting applications!

[jendoe]

tagged by @nightbloodraelle to make some ocs in this picrew! thank you MWAH...

🎀 elissavet cousland | 🎲 adelaide hawke 🏹 yawen liu | 🔍 harun liu 🥀 cressida trevelyan | ⚗ hildegard van markham 🐲 varian de rossi | 🗡 rosaline trevelyan

tagging @phillipsgraves, @risingsh0t, @indorilnerevarine, @chuckhansen, @queennymeria, @denerims, @girlbosselrond, @minaharkers, @gwynbleidd, @aelyosos, @calenhads, @telumendill, @shadowglens, @cptcassian, @corvosattano, @jackiesarch, @marivenah, @sstewyhosseini, @leviiackrman, @unholymilf, @florbelles, @shellibisshe, @loriane-elmuerto, and if you see this, YOU!!! no pressure ofc mwah mwah mwah

[amatres]

OCs as Siken Poems

rules: take this uquiz as your ocs would answer and post their results!

tagged by both @transprincecaspian and @demandthedoodles, thank you both for inflicting this on me! I highlighted lines I felt fit the ocs I used the most, so enjoy.

This time I won't tag anyone, but feel free to take this as a tag if you want to do this yourself!

Surana: I had a Dream About You

There’s nowhere to go, I thought. There’s nowhere to go. You were sitting in a bathtub at the hospital and you were crying. You said it hurt.

You said Will you love me even more when I'm dead? and I said No, and I threw the pills on the sand.

I went to the riverbed to wait for you to show up. You didn't show up. I kept waiting.

Gwynnever Calear: Straw House, Straw Dog

you wanted an adventure, so I said Have an adventure. The straw about to burn, the straw on fire. Here you are on the TV, saying Watch me, just watch me.

I don't really blame you for being dead but you can't have your sweater back.

You can sleep now, you said. You can sleep now. You said that. I had a dream where you said that. Thanks for saying that. You weren't supposed to.

Allyn Hawke- Boot Theory

because you thought it would follow, you thought there would be some logic, perhaps, something to pull it all together but here we are in the weeds again,

You go to work the next day pretending nothing happened. Your co-workers ask if everything’s okay and you tell them you’re just tired. And you’re trying to smile. And they’re trying to smile.

A man walks into a convenience store, still you, saying: I only wanted something simple, something generic...

Adelaide Oftedahl: Self Portrait against Red Wallpaper

Take it or leave it, and for the most part you take it. Not just the idea of it but the ramifications of it.

I clawed my way into the light but the light is just as scary. I'd rather quit. I'd rather be sad. It's too much work. Admirable? Not really. I hate my friends. And when I hate my friends I've failed myself, failed to share my compassion. I shine a light on them of my own making: septic, ugly, the wrong yellow. I mean, maybe it's better if my opponent wins.

[faejilly]

Oats, your choice of pairing <3

[flower prompts] Oats: the witching soul of music

For you, my darling, it is of course Adelaide Hawke and Sebastian Vael. (In this case, right after the end of Act III) You are a big part of why I finally managed to write again, so I hope this means even a fraction as much to you as it does to me 💜

She comes back to herself when she hears the singing.

The explosion had knocked something loose in her chest, her heart, her head; she'd felt the Chantry fall apart in her bones and she'd broken apart too. What followed after had been chaos, frenzied and desperate and bloody and aching and fatal.

Not literally, apparently, she realizes as she blinks, blinks, barely stopping herself from rubbing at the grit in her eyes and making it feel worse.

She remembers stones falling, magic flaring, demons, mages. Orsino.

Meredith.

Fatal was right. Too much of Kirkwall died today.

There's smoke in her throat, in the sky, smog so thick she can't even see the moons, much less the stars. But neither the Gallows nor High Town are doing more than smoldering, finally, so she sits on a chunk of rock and tries to remember who she is.

She fails.

She listens to the music instead.

It's not just one thing, no, not just one voice, not even just one song. Not even just one language, one people. There's common, mostly, but not entirely, too many consonants from one direction, too many vowels from another, too high or too low to fit together and yet they do, they do, whispers and melodies from all directions, splintering in the breeze until they're from everywhere and nowhere at once.

Lamentations from on high, dirges from below, a lullaby sneaking out from the shadows. The steady beat of a sea shanty spills out from the docks, keeping time as the sailors work, and there's even a drinking song from somewhere that's desperately failing at being light and charming and instead just reminds the listeners to swallow, refill, swallow again.

Her throat's dry as she swallows along with them, wherever they are.

Kirkwall lives.

There's a grunt, and warmth at her side. There's someone taller and broader than her, smelling like ash and exhaustion, dried blood and something else, something not what she expected, not what she wanted, something almost wrong...

Leather. Metal.

Warden.

Hawke closes her eyes and leans against Carver's arm; she's too short even sitting to hit his shoulder properly. Her eyes still hurt, gritty and burning and too dry despite being closed.

She squeezes them tight, releases.

Again.

She can sense a skirling dancing echo coming through the Veil itself, the demons and spirits gathering and celebrating and mourning and who knows what else, tasting the destruction here as it spills through to there.

She wonders if there's anyone else alive who can hear it the way she does, the Maker's Chant from Beyond, resonating through lyrium and magic and faith in a way she's never been able to explain to anyone.

She wonders if Vengeance is finally free, if he got to be Justice again, if he crossed beyond the Fade to somewhere else, if Anders—

If Sebastian was at the Chantry when it blew.

She gags, hopes the bile burning in her throat stays down, turns and pushes her forehead against the padded gambeson, hard, harder. Hard enough she can feel Carver shift just a little to brace himself against the pressure.

"Surprised you took off your pauldron before you joined me," she rasps out.

Carver scoffs. "Easier ways to give you a headache."

"You are uniquely skilled at that."

Carver leans away, far enough she almost falls over, a sharp jerk before she manages to right herself. She tries to glare up at him, but she can feel the dark circles under her eyes, can see the lines of fatigue across his forehead, tightening his temples.

"Thank you," she says instead.

"Ugh, sincerity." He drapes an arm over her shoulders, pulls her close into a hug even as he mock-complains. His voice cracks and they both pretend not to hear it. "Too tired, stop that."

She sighs in agreement, feels the tears finally start to well up in her eyes, half pain, half relief.

She must make some sound despite herself, because Carver's arm tightens, his voice low and steadier as he speaks again. "I'm sure he's fine. Too blasted optimistic—"

"To be blasted?" She manages when his voice cuts off as he hears what he accidentally said.

He grunts, apologetic and embarrassed and somehow still consoling despite it all.

She tries to smile, feels it wobble across her face and gives it up, but she squeezes him back.

Please, Andraste. Let him be right.

Carver starts humming, low and mostly on-key, slightly slower than usual but still recognizably Trials.

Her eyes overflow, warm and wet slowly trickling down her cheeks. That was the first Canticle I ever heard Sebastian sing...

Her shoulders slump, and she lets her mind go, stops herself from wondering how long it's been since the explosion, how long they were fighting, how much longer it might be until she knows.

Instead she just listens, feels the hum in Carver's chest move through him and into her, loses herself in the familiar rhythm.

She hums along, now and then, hears someone else sing a phrase or two as they pass by, or settle down to rest near them. She's not really listening anymore, feeling the thrum of Kirkwall around her, surviving despite everything, so she's not sure when it changes.

Not sure when there's a familiar voice underneath it all, warm and tired and right here.

She bolts upright, faster even than her eyes can open, and she's wrapped up in Sebastian's arms before she properly sees him. She coughs, sobs, chokes, makes herself breathe. She inhales the same ash and sweat and grief that everyone smells of, and one more thing, incense, faint and sweet and warm, and she's never going to move away, never, not if it risks losing that comfort for real, for ever.

She feels his lips press against the top of her head, huffs out something that's almost a laugh against his chest. There's no possible way her hair doesn't taste terrible.

"Buidheachas do Andraste," he murmurs, voice rough and damp, and she holds him tighter, still crying, unable to stop.

You're alive, you're alive, you're here, she thinks, over and over and over. Thank you, Andraste, thank you.

We're alive.

[wyvernscales]

I need to talk about Adelaide Hawke, but I dont know what to say about her yet. She’s not fully formed in my mind’s eye.

But that’s one of her primary qualities in the first place. Constantly becoming. She isn’t one thing. She is fun and rage and bar brawls and freedom and bleeding knuckles and magic. She doesn't get the chance to mourn her fading youth because she never stops going.

That’s why she needs an anchor that’s constantly in motion. Isabela refuses to stay still, and it's this quality that draws them both to each other.

Two ions in constant excite, refusing to let go of their energy.

[bubbles-026]

Men 🤝 women

[auricfog]

🎀 elissavet | 🃏 adelaide 🪻rosaline | 🪨 tesni 🍎 mila | 💫 athelyna 🦊 midori | 🎨 aurelie

tagged by @d-esmond, @shadowglens, and @imogenkol to make some ocs in this picrew :3 no tags bc its made the rounds but if you see this and haven't done it/want to, i'm tagging YOU!

[thedragonagelesbian]

Omg can I ask some of those OC relationship questions?? Maybe "For Good" for Adelaide and "Meet Strange" for Cyrus?? 👀🍿

oc asks: relationship edition

PLEASE DO oh thank you so much for asking about my disaster daughter......... she's become marginally less disastrous since the last arc of her campaign, which means i don't talk about her as often as i should sdfiopjadfsadf

For Good: Is there anyone in your OC's life who had an undeniable positive impact on who they are as a person? How did knowing this person improve your OC's life?

Natalie "Nat" Owens was the most positive presence in Adelaide's life growing up, as both her best friend and her unrealized crush. But they also didn't speak for most of the six years that Adelaide was stuck at home because (a) how tf do you begin to explain something like that and what if she didn't believe it and (b) what if Adelaide lost control of her magic like she lost control with Zak and hurt Nat in the process? The more the years the drag on, the more Adelaide is certain that her monstrosity is incompatible with Nat's goodness-- even as she continues to nurse some kind of fantasy deep deep down of Nat saving her and stealing her away.

Now that Nat is back in her life, and Adelaide can leave Harborview (but is also its divine prophet), things are. Weird. But like, mostly good weird. 'Adelaide is a disaster lesbian' kind of weird. She failed an investigate a mystery roll a couple of sessions ago and I narrated it as her being distracted by Nat's tits.

As a player, I hope Nat gets involved with the monster hunting eventually!! But Adelaide doesn't want to reveal that side of herself just yet.

Meet Strange: What's the most memorable way your OC has ever met a new person? Was it a good experience? Bad experience? Just plain weird? How's their relationship with that person now?

This is a fun one because 'meet strange' kind of describes... every circumstance for meeting companion characters in fantasy rpgs lololol, especially for BG3. The weirdest 'meet strange' of DA2 imo is Fenris' personal quest-- full honesty, I still do NOT understand 'Bait and Switch' at ALL and I've given up trying to get it. I'm just glad Fenris is here now.

Beyond in-game meetings... there's that time Cyrus committed naked and unapologetic political heresy in front of the entire Orelsian court at Halamshiral.

As for his relationship with Celene, it uh. It doesn't end well. He keeps Gwen from warning her about Florianne's assassination. In my head, the fight with Florianne happens in the ballroom rather than the garden for the Dramatics/Spectacle, and then Varric trips Gwen before she can land the killing blow on Florianne, allowing Cyrus to swoop in, finish her off, and position himself as Celene's avenger.

[valentin10]

Adelaide 36ers vs. Illawarra Hawks - Game Highlights - Round 8, NBL25