#before i boot up da2

[teiasviago]

worst thing abt da2 and origins on my computer is that i can’t use my controller with them :/

[kenobihater]

downloaded wolfenstein after going on a jacob geller rewatch binge and getting intrigued by blazko. for reference i've played one fps in my 23 years and got stuck on the third level, so i'm either gonna cry and shit my pants or actually learn how shooters work. if you see me spamming ben affleck smoking reaction pics in my posts tomorrow then that's your explanation

[felassan]

David Gaider on Fenris, under a cut for length:

"Fenris. Now, DA2 is a story all on its own but I'm not going to go there other than to sum it up as "we had just over a year and a half to make this". It's why I only wrote one follower, Fenris, and although it'll make his fans mad: I probably shouldn't have. Let me explain. The way we'd approach making the followers is brainstorming a list of concepts covering first the array of gameplay classes (and sub-classes) and then making sure they each have some skin in the game when it came to the story's conflicts - ideally having characters on both sides of the major ones. Why? You can't make a player care about the world, but you can make them care about characters who care about the world. It's the easiest way to provide hooks into a conflict, outside of it knocking on the player's door. Heck, it's probably better than that. Players will burn the world for approval. After that, we'd decide things like romances/sexuality. Then the writers would pick who they'd write. I always let my writers pick first. I figured they do their best work when it's something they're inspired to write... and they got so few chances at ownership, I wanted to give it whenever I could It's why I (reluctantly) let Patrick wrest Cole from my grasp in DAI, a character I'd created in Asunder. It's also why I let Jennifer take Anders in DA2, who I'd started in Awakening. In this instance, it meant I was left with the angry elven warrior character who nobody else appeared to want."

"It should have been my first clue that something was up. The second was how the artists had zero clue what to do with him. The art concepts were all over the place - from mages to crows to... well, even weirder. No matter how hard I tried to explain the idea, the artists simply didn't seem to get it Does this mean he was a bad character? Not exactly. Just an idea that probably deserved some re-examining. You can tell when an idea has a certain spark, and part of that is being easy to communicate. Sadly, there wasn't time for any re-examining even if it'd occurred to me. And it didn't, not yet. If it had, if I had time, maybe I'd have re-booted him as a templar. Someone pro-templar rather than anti-mage, who could give a personal hook into Meredith and give the templars some badly-needed humanity. But this falls into the shoulda-woulda-coulda category. I had a follower to write. Quickly. I struggled, at first. It was hard to get away from "Fenris hates everything, all the time". It felt very one-note, and I didn't know where to take him. My third clue, I guess. I also wasn't sure if I was the right person to write a former slave. I did know that couldn't be the center of his story. I did know trauma, however. How it can eat you up. How the hate and resentment is like drinking poison and hoping the other person dies. How it can infect your relationships. Fenris's trauma isn't my trauma, obviously, but here I dipped into a more personal part of myself than I'd ever done before."

"It gave me the center of his story I was missing, but wow was it uncomfortable. In a good way, maybe. I likely wouldn't have, if I hadn't been so desperate. In a way, I think DA2 had some of our best writing *because* of the timeline. It was raw, with little time to sand down the interesting parts. I wouldn't have done the "Fenris doesn't talk to you for three years" thing if I'd known we were going to cut all the reactivity initially planned for the time jumps. When that call was made, I campaigned to cut the jumps to a year, but there was no time for the revisions it'd need. So, um. Awkward. I used to get asked where the name came from, and I... don't remember? Obviously it's derived from Fenrir, but I don't recall why we picked that. Someone pointed at Fenris the Feared from Joe Abercrombie's books... and I did read them, so maybe the name lodged in my head? Wouldn't be the first time. Casting Fenris turned out to be easy. He was the first time I requested a specific VA and got him. (The other times were Merrill and then Solas, my two "I want these specific Welsh actors, please".) Why? OK, if you must know, I'd played a bit of Final Fantasy XII. I heard Balthier. "Yes, that." 😅 And Gideon Emery was a delight, as it turned out. Consummate professional, and that lovely gravel in his voice... good god. Bite the knuckles. There was a struggle to find the voice at the outset where I did my best not to say "just pls do Balthier" but he found Fenris on his own and it was amazing. Overall, Fenris turned out better than he had any right to, considering the rocky start. He had a lot of soul, a vulnerability forged by pain that struck a chord with a lot of players, and I'm glad. Do I regret anything? Probably having him live in a corpse-filled mansion that would never update. That's a hindsight thing, though, as again the cut to reactivity over the time jumps came late. Outside of that, maybe letting the player give him back to Danarius? Poor shock value and a waste of resources because almost nobody took the option. Good evil options are ones that are tempting to take. And the lyrium tattoos. Interesting concept, but they're probably why you'll never see Fenris in a future DA. He requires a custom body, and the tattoos make that expensive. It's why I put Fenris in my 4th DA novel - the cancelled one. Don't fret, though. He died in it, so this way he lives on. 😉"

[source thread]

User: "Wait wait how does he die in [the cancelled novel]??" David Gaider: "Gloriously, after taking up a cause he didn't believe in at first but then made his own, one that allowed him to rediscover what it meant to be elven." [source] David Gaider: "I’m not sorry about the novel cancellation. I’m the one who cancelled it. I am kinda sad we couldn’t make it work, though. Considering it was after I left the DA team, it would have been my final DA hurrah." [source] David Gaider: "From my perspective, it was kind of "well if you're never going to use him again, let me at least give him a proper send off" and the story required a glorious death... but I get that's not the story his biggest fans would want (which is Hawke + Fenris 4ever), so it's just as well." [source]

User: "You all did some incredible work with such a tight deadline" David Gaider: "I'm of the opinion that even if we'd had only another six months to bake, DA2 would be remembered as a classic and not either a flawed gem or underbaked sequel, depending on who you ask." [source]

David Gaider: "Just to clarify the "they're probably why you'll never see Fenris" thing, as it's spawned commentary: 1. It's the reasoning as was explained to me back then. 2. Obviously, if Bio *really* wanted to, they'd find a way around it. But it was a complication that meant he couldn't be included casually." [source]

[thekingofwinterblog]

How to fix Halamshiral as a Zone

Inquisition is a flawed game.

I don't think there's anyone who is going to argue otherwise.

The only question is wheter you place it higher or lower than DA2.

One of the things I think it does better than DA2, is that it managed to give every place a soul, an identity of it's own, and at least a distinct, if not always amazing storyline.

The emerald graves doesnt have a very interesting plot, but it has some spectacular side quests, and atmosphere, inculding a haunted mansion, which might be my favorite possession based quest in all of DA because it shows much better than others just how dangerous untrained mages actually are to those around them.

The storm coast tells a story of what was once an important dwarven port, and shows how it fell and was repurposed over time.

The Hinterlands shows the aftereffects of the templar mage war, as well as solas stupid plan to give cory his orb, and the mage rebellion and an actually decent time travel story.

I could go on, but the point is, I usually have at least aomething nice to say about every single region.

All except one.

Halamshiral.

Halamshiral was the single worst part of all of Dragon Age Inquisition for me, and every single time I boot up this game, it's always the last thing i do before the temple of sacred ashes, despite how bizarre the game flows as a result.

And the reason is because i hate everything about it.

I hate it's unique attempt at side quests, i hate the characters involved, i hate the Orlesians who inhabit it, and i hate how this section tries to copy what worked so amazingly well with Orzammar and Denerim during the landsmeet section, and fails every single shot it lines up.

The ONLY good thing i have to say about this, is that it's at the very least relatively short.

So here's today's question. How to fix Halamshiral?

Let's begin with the three main players.

Celene, Gasparde, and Briala.

The big problem with every single option, is that they all suck.

Celene and Gasparde are both fucking awful people without any redeeming qualities, they have no charisma, and there is no prospect of the Empire reforming itself under either of them, the way Orzammar would under Bhelen.

Meanwhile, Briala is much, much better, but the problem is that we know exactly what is going to happen here if you support her.

Maybe today elves will have it better, but tomorrow, when Gasparde is gone, or celene turns on elves again as she always does all the progress will be repealed, and reversed, along with a few purged alienages.

Its an old story that's been told before in Dragon age.

In short, there is no reason at all to care about this overall plot. None whatsoever.

There were so many reasons to care about both Orzammar and Denerim in the same situation, and every single character involved had so much more charisma than either of these would be monarchs.

So let's fix that.

Starting with Celene, take the idea of her wanting to reform the empire, and actually take it to the next level.

Celene is genuine in wanting to reform the empire, and has already taken grand, successful steps to make the entire thing much better for everyone, even elves, giving them and serfs more rights, outlawing the practice of chevaliers having a tradition of killing unarmed city elves to graduate.

But the catch is, while she is genuinely making progress, she is doing so within the confines of the great game.

Celene has nonintention of changing the great game, no plans of wanting to remove this thing that holds Orlais back more than any other, this center stone of their nobility and it's culture.

Meanwhile, Gasparde is a different kind of reformer, one that takes the ideas he had of him claiming to hate the game, and actually doing something with it.

He is far less progressive, has no love for elves, is far more warlike than Celene ever was... But unlike Celene, his ideas of reform isn't going to act within the grand game.

He's going to break it.

Unlike canon gasparde, this gasparde is hated by every single noble family in the entire empire. His only support, and it's a strong one, is the army. The parts of the army that supports Gasparde, and they are a huge part, are loyal to him personally to the hilt.

And he hates them back. He hates the game, he hates the way it cripples the empire, and he wants to change things. Like Celene he plans to break the serfs free of their chains, for the good of the nation and it's power and economy if not for any progressive reasons.

And he'a going to start with Halamshiral.

For this Gasparde isn't merely positioning men to stage a coup... He's planning to kill EVERY SINGLE NOBLE in Halamshiral. Evety man, every woman, every child there.

He's going to reform this empire by wiping out it's cancerous nobility in one fell swoop, and install himself as supreme dictator to see his reforms through, and wiping out the entire Orlesian nobility that might have opposed him, french revolution style.

And thus the Inquisitor has a dilemma.

Unlike Orzammar, where only one side was a reformer, both of these Orlesians are... But you have to choose one.

Do you choose Celene? The more progressive candidate, who wants a more peaceful Orlais going forward? But who is not willing to get ridd of the grand game to do so, thus making it a permanent risk that all her reforms will be undone...

Or will you support Gasparde, and by doing so be complicit in destroying the entire nobility of Orlais, many of whom are not guilty of the shit that Celene and Gasparde here both hate so much? Gasparde is far less likely to create a peaceful Orlais going forward... But he will have obliterated the Grand Game for good and all, a prize that might be worth this Red Wedding style bloodbath.

Meanwhile there is Briala, the elven spy who has enough influence to allow, or prevent Gasparde's plans from going through.

Here there should be another moral dilemma, quite different from the base game.

Do you convince her to aid Gasparde, in exchange for the Elves getting a duchy of their own in Halamshiral? Do you then back her up with Inquisition forces and support, forcing Him to publicly announce her as such, and trust his own, twisted version of honor to actually stick to it going forward(Something he ultimately does), or do you throw her to the Wolves the moment things get rough?

Or alternatively, do you convince her to side with Celene, and bury the hatchet? And if so, on what terms? And similarly, if she actually wants to get something out of this, you actually need to back her up... Something you may, or may not choose to do.

And voila, here you have an actual story of intrigue, massive, lasting political changes as a result of the Herald's actions, and morally grey on grey choices.

Everything that Denerim and Orzammar had in spades.

Now moving on from the plot to the actual place.

Halamshiral has no soul.

It's a french villa on a mountaintop. Whoop de freaking do.

It has no interesting murals, unique art only found there, interesting geography, or anything really to make it stand out.

Compare it to Denerim and Orzammar, and the way they fleshed out the entire city's levels of power and criminal underworlds, and you see the difference.

Denerim is a very realistic, squat, squalid medieval city, with it's buildings built on top of every single bit of available space.

Orzammar is a full on high fantasy dwarf city lit up by a lake of lava.

Halamshiral is a villa presented as a city.

How do you fix that?

There is an artist here on Tumblr who pretty much showcased what Halamshiral could have been, if they had taken the idea of the Dalish(who were the original owners) taking inspiration from native americans(amongst others), and use that to build a truly spectacular city, which has long ago been paved over, but the structure is still there.

Make it a city on the water, like the aztex capital of Tenochtitlan, a marvel of canals and stone.

Make it this Venezia like city, with canals everywhere you look, and the entire city running on water. A marvel of Dalish city building, where they took something as simple as a couple of islands in a lake, and built the most beautiful city in the world.

And rather than just limit you to the palace, instead let you actually explore this city.

Expand the entire event from one night, to a week.

Let the Herald explore the city, meet the players, interact with the nobles, become friends with a few like you could with Ferelden's bans, which in turn makes the possibility of sacrificing them for the greater good hit so much harder.

Let you choose what fancy stuff to wear to the balls and meetings, rather than have this stupid motto of forcing you to wear one, pre determined outfit like this game had for some reason.

Let you discover the places where what little Elven Architecture and art still remains can be found, and talk with the elves who still live here, the descendants after the first elves the Orlesians enslaved.

Make the plotting of Gasparde and the positioning of troops be gradual, not instantly discovered and twarted.

And at the end, if you choose to back Gasparde, you mirror that scene from Dragon Age 2, where the Templars sail across the bay, and you either step aside and witness the bloodbath you just allowed to happen, or you fight them and be recognized by the nobility(most of which are horrible, horrible people) as a hero who just saved the day.

Have the venatori plot be to kill both Gasparde and Celene, rather than their involvement mostly be about handing the player the the easy knife for the knot of which monarch to pick without having to get your hands dirty.

Also have the entire group be gathered for once. Every inner member of the Inquisition just like at Denerim.

Each of whom have their own thoughts on the events.

Who supports who? What is the right thing to do? What is better for the inquisition? Are you staining your honor beyond repair if you back Gasparde? Does the Inquisitor maybe have a breakdown after witnessing what they just allowed to happen and they walk through the gardens or rooms filled with corpses? Maybe have the scene at the end with the love interest be about a moment of them truly comforting their lover in the aftermath of it all, understanding(or not) that as boss, it's your job to have to make the tough decisions. And now you have to live with them.

Or if you wanna go the other way, this could be one of the breaking points like Origins had. If you support Gasparde, Blackwall choses to tell you to get bent, and that he will die as benefits a knight. Defending the week, and calling you out on how you are just as bad as he ever was, a child killer who's going to run away from responsibility, to pretend you are some better person than what you actually are. You're a murder. Just like he was. You are just as responsible for the blood that's flowing as he was with that carriage back in the day.

It would have been a far more impressive reveal moment for his crimes, that's for sure.

Cole probably would be the one who would be second most upset, but wheter he leaves or ultimately stays should probably be depended on your other choices and your relationship with him prior to this, probably have his personal quest be the determinating factor of what he chooses to do.

And i could go on, but point is, this would be a return to Origins choices actually mattering. There were choices that could make or break a characters bond with you. Shale would not budge regarding Caridin, Leliana and wynne would stand against you if you choose to defile the urn, Sevran would choose to betray you for his old friend if he didn't like you enough, and of course the age old choices at the end of act 3 in da2, where you have to pick between templars and Mages, as well as anders fate, and chances are regardless of what you do, at least 1 person ends up dead.

If anyone reading this has any suggestions for how to further improve this storyline, feel free to share, but regardless, i think we can all agree that this is a vast improvement of what we actually got.

[milesmentis]

Bards

Day 5: Veilguard 30 (Filling in for @daisymeade with a snippet featuring her Hawke, the best worst only bard in Kirkwall ... DA2 didn't give us the bard spec because they knew that Marion would've been literally unstoppable.)

“And now, gentle patrons, I shall pass my hat.”

“What for?” A loud voice cut through the grumbling, catching the attention of very nearly everyone in the room. Cyric squinted. The speaker was a lanky man sitting in the far corner nearest the door. He was leaning back, his chair precariously balanced against the back wall, his booted feet up on the table. A heckler.

Cyric pulled himself up to his full height. “For the evening's fine entertainment, serah.”

“Oh, and when does that start?” The patrons snickered into their stale mugs of ale, even the ones who had been pointedly ignoring his luteing. “Sorry,” the man continued with a cocky grin, “but the Hanged Man doesn't run on credit.”

That really got the room going, a few whistles and stamps mixed in with the raucous laughter.

Cyric’s face burned, but he managed to snap back, “Well, I'd like to see you do better!”

At once, the man swung his leg down in a casual motion so smooth that it had to be practiced. As soon as his foot hit the floor, so did the legs of his chair and he was up and moving. He crossed half of the crowded room in a breath and Cyric couldn't help but gulp. The man was taller … and significantly wider than he'd originally assumed. His chest was broad and his arms rippled with lean muscle beneath his rolled up sleeves. His mouth still curved up in a languid grin, but from this close it looked much less friendly.

“That sounded like a wager.”

“And … if it was?” Nothing to do now but call his bluff … or possibly, he realized belatedly, take a very comprehensive thrashing. “Fancy a go?”

He held out the lute by the neck as if it was a dead chicken and the man's smile actually spread into a full grin.

“Well … I'll try anything once.”

“We know!” called one of the other patrons and the room cracked up again.

He turned to yell back over his shoulder, “And how was I supposed to know that was your sister? If she’d been mule-ugly and drunk, I'd have known to ask permission first!”

Ignoring the latest round of hoots and jeers, the man rolled his shoulders like he was loosening up to lift something heavy then held out a calloused hand.

“Terms?”

Cyric thought for a moment. “If you can play a song - any song - I'll cover all your drinks for the night.”

The man grinned. “Think you’ll get enough to pay up when you lose?”

Cyric stuck out his chin. “Having second thoughts about showing your ass in front of your friends?”

“Good one,” the man snickered. “But that assumes they haven't all seen it. Assumptions are like that.”

The man turned the lute back and forth, giving the instrument a critical once over before slinging the band over his neck. He settled his arm around it, a bit as if he were cradling a newborn calf and began to fidget with the tuning. Cyric snorted. Despite trying to look confident, the man’s “fiddling” would only take it out a tune - this was likely going to be more painful than embarrassing.

He plucked his first note, sour as curdled milk, and Cyric grit his teeth. More notes came in succession, trailing like lost ducklings in an arhythmic mess. He almost went to snatch his precious instrument back from the lout when he strummed a selection of discordant notes in a chord. It hummed sympathetically to the jarring notes hanging in the smoky room, creating a bridge. The man plucked again, a quicker run through the notes followed by the same chord twice, reigning in the chaos. Cyric winced again as the man’s rough fingers slid down the strings in a screech but it ended again in a chord, this one much more pleasing. The firelight danced on the man’s face, catching at his lips which now turned up in a less harsh expression, one of private satisfaction as if he’d just brought a difficult horse into line. The music was still not to Cyric’s taste, but there was a certain wild beauty to it. It sounded like a drunkard's waltz, swaying back and forth across the room until it bumped against those oft repeated chords.

As the phrase repeated again and again, the man began to embellish, adding trills and sympathetic chords until the song carried something remarkably close to a melody. The tempo increased and as the man began to stomp in time, Cyric realized with a start that not only was he swaying along with the beat, so were most of the patrons. Even the most hardfaced drunks were nodding in time or tapping mugs against the worn and sticky tabletops. The music built to a crescendo, quick triplets and a muddled mess of chords all crashing together. It came to an abrupt end with one final stomp from the redheaded man, but as a few cheers and some raucous applause drifted towards them from the table in the back he stomped again. And again. And again. Expectant quiet fell then, all attention drawn to him like metal shavings to a lodestone. And he began to sing.

Fortune, fortune, smile and fade

Haven't seen you much of late

His voice was like his luting: unpolished, lilting, and undeniably Ferelden. The cadence of his words swayed in an almost dirge-like rhythm as he continued:

Need you now, I cannot wait

But when I look you’re not around

Cyric startled when a few patrons joined in, the strongest voices coming from a table full of laborers, judging from the stone dust on their clothes.

Never minding what we do

The night’s still good for a dram or two

I’ll be drinking late with you

Until the morning comes around

Yea, I must be good for something

Yea, pray tell?

His crooning dropped deep into his chest at that last part, aching with a desperate longing. A tremulous chord hung in the air for a breath before the man threw back his head and, followed by almost two dozen voices, launched into the chorus.

Oh sinners come down, come gather 'round

Oh sinners come down, lay-o-lai

Dancing on cold feet

Marching down cobbled streets

Oh sinners come down, lay-o-laaaiii

[theluckywizard]

Kiss Me Moonstruck, Ch. 7: A Bid for Freedom

Hawke x Trevelyan | DA2 | Matchmaking Mischief | Fluff and Smut | Fish out of Water | Romantic Comedy

Chapter Summary: Rose sneaks out. Garrett discovers some kind of hooligan descending a drainpipe.

Fic Summary: Smashed together in a matchmaking scheme cooked up by their enterprising mothers, Garrett Hawke and Rose Trevelyan are forced to endure one another for a whole week over Satinalia at the Hawke Estate. Rose hears he’s a swashbuckling treasure hunter, as wild as he is handsome and as ill-bred as he is rich. Garrett suspects she’s a brat of an ingenue by the string of rejected marriage proposals behind her. Determined to prove to the other that they could not be less compatible, they quickly find their mothers’ plot might be working better than they thought.

Rating: Explicit

WC so far: 19,375

Excerpt under the cut 👇

Heading out the door to join his friends in Lowtown for Satinalia skullduggery, Garrett hears a metallic shriek around the corner of his home. With a hand hovering over the hilt of his sword he wanders to look.

He stares, seldom agape this way, astonished to see the fussy ingénue tenuously descending a drainpipe from her guest bedroom window. Gone is the stiff dress. Gone is the perfectly pinned hair. Instead it streaks down past her left shoulder in a long splintering braid over her cloak. After she stood up to all his nonsense today, perhaps he shouldn’t be so surprised. Smiling at the audacity, he sets his hands on his hips and shakes his head as he watches her hop down over the boxwoods. Dusting off her hands, Rose Trevelyan looks up the length of pipe she just climbed down, pulls on her hood, turns, and then walks straight into Garrett’s chest.

“Oh!” she cries, clutching her nose. He steadies her reflexively, unable to contain his laugh. “Shit— sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” he manages. “I saw you scrambling down from up there and thought perhaps— well I don’t know what I thought. I—” Staring at Lady Rose, her hair loosely braided, he feels that same whisper of familiarity, but it’s more potent. It couldn’t be. Impulsively, he picks up her bare hand on the off chance, turning it over. But there’s nothing.

“I’ll have that back, thanks,” she says, a little put out by the imposition.

“Forgive me,” says Garrett, watching her tug on some gloves. He purses his lips and decides to pivot the conversation. “So. Climb down a lot of drain pipes?”

The corner of her lips turns. “A few.” 

That can’t be all. He presses for more. “Off somewhere special?”

“Not really. I thought I’d wander around a bit,” she says. He blinks at her before recovering himself.

“At night… in Kirkwall,” he says, the doubt in his voice concealing his utter amusement.

“Well I can’t wander around during the day. Mother would pitch a fit,” she says, annoyed to be prodded. “I overheard you say you were going out to someplace called The Hanged Man. Can I come?”

Garrett’s brow lifts in surprise. It’s not as though he isn’t surrounded by surprising companions, but his mother’s never tried to fix him up with any of them.

“Look,” she starts. “I’m sure you’re off to see your lover or whatever. And we don’t need to pretend that either of us are actually interested in settling, let alone with one another. But if you’re headed that way, perhaps you wouldn’t mind me tagging along. I can take care of myself once I’m there. I’d do anything for a moment out from under my mother’s vigilant bloody thumb.”

“So you’ve bought the rumors,” he says, chuckling at his boots. “Wild Fereldan man beds half of Kirkwall.”

“They do tend to get more ridiculous with each pass, I suppose,” she answers, donning that blazing smirk again. He gestures in the direction of Lowtown and she falls into step beside him. Peeking over, he notes the handsome leather jacket and breeches she wears under the same enormous woolen cowl from earlier.

“What if your mother finds out you’re gone?” he asks.

“Oh I’ll blame you,” she says. “Obviously.”

He snickers through his nose.

“Do you always bring your sword and shield to the tavern?” she asks. 

Garrett stifles his next laugh, clutching his hand over his mouth before peering at her again. She looks up at him without a speck of irony, genuinely curious.

“I’m surprised you’re unfamiliar with the perils of Kirkwall. Given the fact that your mother expects you to live here…”

“I’m sure she conveniently forgot,” replies Rose. “She’s been trying to get rid of me for nearly five years now.”

“Must be desperate if she’s pawning you off on the ne’er-do-well son of an apostate.”

Rose sighs. “My mother— She’s more than happy to overlook your rapscallion ways if there’s enough money and prestige.”

“Rapscallion ways?” Garrett grins. “I suppose if the shoe fits…”

Read the rest here | Start the fic here

The two turkeys in grave danger (art by me)

DAFF Tag List:

@about2dance | @ar-lath-ma-cully | @blarrghe | @bluewren | @breninarthur

@crackinglamb | @delicatefade | @dreadfutures | @effelants | @exalted-dawn-drabbles 

@hekaerges | @inquisimer | @ir0n-angel | @leggywillow 

@oxygenforthewicked | @plisuu | @rakshadow | @rosella-writes | @warpedlegacy

[bearlytolerant]

9, 16, 19 for DA4 ask!

Thank you for these asks! I finally sat down to get them answered.

9. Which romance, if any, do you plan to pursue first?

Solas with my lavellan. I kid…unless.

Then Varric. I kid…u n l e s s.

The real answer is I’m torn. Everyone looks lovely! But I’m going to need to get to know them better in game before I can actually make any decision on who I’m romancing first. Unlike prior games, everyone I’ve seen in the new game is starting on the same level (even though I’ve got some snippets of chars from writing but I need more to go on).

16. What's one crack theory you subscribe to (yours or someone else's)

I don’t know. Probably none. Even my own I’m not fully subscribed to. A boring answer I know but I’ve got nothing. I’m just hoping we get some solid answers in the next game but it’s dragon age so—I expect I’ll get 12 more questions for every 1 I get an answer to.

21. Are you planning to replay any of the previous games, watch Dragon Age: Absolution, or read any of the books/comics/short stories, or are there other games you want to play in the meantime?

Yes! I booted up a new playthrough of da2 and Inquisition already. I have 3 of the comics to finish and I’m also working through Tevinter Nights again currently. I won’t read any of the other books though. Will probably watch absolution again too because I’ve only seen it once so I feel like a second time I’ll be able to glean details I missed prior from the show.

I’ve included vacation photos that Cole took of Sarya in the Elvhen ruins:

[snotsloth]

10 Characters/10 Fandoms/10 Tags

Tagged by @icehearts

Tagging, but don't feel pressured! (Also you do not have to make pretty pictures. Graphic Designer brain just took over and this happened.) @physicalvocalist, @sarenraegalpaladin, @vorpalbun, @captainqster, @leagor-majere, @sundered-souls, @ardberts, @hinganskies, @lilbittymonster, @janzoo

1. Harrowhark Nonagesimus - The Locked Tomb Trilogy

Harrow has true scrungly wet cat energy. I want to put her in one of those little backpacks with a window and carry her around in it for her enrichment. She's an absolute bitch. She is a pathetic little meow meow. She lobotomized herself to save the soul of the woman she refuses to admit she's in love with. She tried to kill a saint with soup made from her own bone marrow. She is a war crime. I like her so much!

2. Magneto - X-Men

He is the platonic ideal of my favorite trope, "Does all the wrong things for all the right reasons." Magneto has gone through the polar opposite of villain decay. The longer he exists, the longer the universe has to prove him increasingly correct on most things. All I can really say is, "Magneto was right."

3. Wei Wuxian - Mo Dao Zu Shi

Truly the most blorbo of all time. Are you also an ADHD burned out gifted and talented submissive brat with a praise kink? Boy howdy, do I have a character that you are going to imprint on like a baby goose! Wei Wuxian also has a hearty dose of, "Does all the wrong things for all the right reasons." Also like who multiclasses in wizard (specifically necromancer) and bard? This fucking guy apparently.

4. Hythlodaeus - Final Fantasy 14

I am so normal about Hythlodaeus, I made an entire AU around him. That is a reasonable thing to do about a character that you like a normal amount, right? The idealized lost love, trapped in amber, untouchable but also incorruptible by the sands of time that keep eroding the edges of your soul. And then they gave him lavender dead anime mom hair!

5. Varric Tethras - Dragon Age

I literally have a semi-viral post about how much this character has consumed my thoughts. Rule Number 1 of Dragon Age: Varric lies. He's a charming scoundrel. He's loyal to a fault. He knows everything worth knowing about Kirkwall. And he's a dirty fucking liar. The only reason Varric isn't romanceable in DA2 is that no other romantic interest would get any attention if Varric was on the table. I desire him carnally.

6. Temeraire - Temeraire

My most precious and smartest boy! I adore Temeraire so much. Swear to god, I did not read the Temeraire books before creating Orion as a character, but the parallels are so strong, you would think I had! He's a bookworm, a little awkward but full of opinions, and he has an unwavering moral compass. Temeraire will forever be one of my favorite dragon characters.

7. Jaina Solo - Star Wars Legends

I will never forget what Disney took from me. As a weird, nerdy girl who was also kind of a guy growing up, Jaina meant so much to me. She was an active participant in the stories she was in. She was an ace pilot, a skilled mechanic, and a Jedi to boot. She had her dad's sense of humor and her mom's moral certainty. I thought she was the coolest. Still do.

8. Ansur - Baldur's Gate 3

Ansur! My beloved! If you had told me that the character I would be most obsessed with from BG3 would be an undead bronze dragon who you don't even know about until the third act -- actually, no that checks out. He was so in love, and so loyal, and so bitter at Balduron for embracing his corruption! And that reveal! All the build-up, only to find his bones and then wham! the entire narrative of the Emperor gets turned on its head. I still get chills. Also, they were absolutely fucking.

9. Viktor - Arcane

Listen, as a disabled, obsessive nerd with too much to do and not enough time to do it all in, Viktor is my gender. I love just about everything about Arcane, but Viktor's storyline is my favorite part. I, for one, am very excited to watch his fall from grace and further corruption. I have already forgiven all of his atrocities. I do not care. He's babygirl.

10. Clark Kent - DC

You thought I was going to say Jason or Dick for a DC character didn't you? (Or even Roy!) Those would all have been very reasonable expectations. I am pretty obsessed with all of them. However, Clark Kent is a very special character to me, and yes I specifically am focusing on the Clark persona and not the Supes persona. Yeah, they are ultimately the same guy, but I much prefer Superman stories grounded in his Clark Kent identity. Superman is at his best when he is attached to the mundane world by things like his job, his family, and his love for Lois. (Lois/Clark is the ultimate het ship. I will not be taking questions on this. It just is.) Clark is essentially a demigod, and yet he chooses to spend his time loving people and living as one of them, and I think that's really fucking cool.

[greypetrel]

!! for the hand in hand starters, how about ∆ HEAL ∆   -  sender treats a wound on the receiver’s hand

Hello! ✨

No character stated? Uh. Let’s do something new, shall we. And since last prompt was light and very fluff...

Also I honestly don’t know how but in my first DA2 play I triggered Anders’ romance by mistake. I was running after Isabela and suddenly Anders tried to kiss me and I was there bitch what. Of course I kept it.

Tis the prompt list

∆ HEAL ∆   -  sender treats a wound on the receiver’s hand

Raina staggered back, bumping her back against the wall -she didn’t want to know what exactly fell when she did, she just felt something splorch under her boot and she prayed it was a patch of snow that hadn’t melted yet. She had no heart to peek down and look, she was better without looking. She fixed on her adversary instead, raising up her fists against her face, spitting on the side as the last of the thugs got close by, blabbering something she didn’t even care to listen to. She was panting, her left thigh hurt if she put her weight on her leg, and as per usual, that spot on her left ribcage had a bruise as well, with two or three others around herself. None on her back, tho, of which she was proud.

So much for her grand return to the Hanged Man after Anders finally declared her stomach healed and her good to go out. He would have probably killed her for running head-first into a brawl after her second beer of the evening, but in the moment she couldn’t care less. Things were finally back to normal, she felt alive again, adrenaline rushing and keeping her active. And she hadn’t even needed to put that much effort in finding the fight. Or well, starting it, but those were details. She loved Kirkwall.

She waited in guard for the last thug to approach her – he was a tall and buff mercenary always so quick in whistling at her and Merrill whenever they came around the tavern, big words, apparently no neck and slow feet, not intelligent enough to guess that if she knocked out his three friends, chances were that she would have done the same with him as well. But oh no, he was the last in town to know exactly who killed the Arishok. Raina wasn’t complaining.

He stepped up, gained speed -as much as he could- and raised his fist, ready to punch her… And she ducked last minute, crouching and slipping just below his fist and leaving it colliding against the wall where her nose was before. How unfortunate. She didn’t lose time, and spun around at once. He just started screaming in pain that she hit him, slapping hard against his right ear to make him lose balance and kicking him in the kidney, from behind, hard with her knee, building momentum by spinning on herself.

He fell on the ground, and she punched his nose -she heard the crack of the bone breaking and ignored the sharp pain in her knuckles as they collided against the skull. He was on the ground, breathing hard and holding his nose with both hands, groaning loudly in gurgling noises, throat full of blood. Raina panted hard, spitting again somewhere and waiting for him to cross her eyes.

“Say one more comment to any girl and I’ll get back to finish the work. Got it, Casanova?”

She smiled at him, leaving clear that she wasn’t joking. He luckily got the message, and nodded, not trying to get up again. Luckily for her, because her hand was throbbing pretty painfully, and she was tired. Too much time in convalescence, and surely there wasn’t anything tugging in her stomach. Nothing at all, uh-uh.

She nodded once, declared it had been a pleasure talking of basic decency with them, and as the group of thugs was raising back from the ground and scampering away scared from her, she entered back the tavern.

Cheers and whistles welcomed her in, and in all answer she curtseyed, as graciously and elegantly as her mother tried to teach her ever since she was a child. She had listened, just refused to do it for the Chantry Mother in Lothering, driving her mother crazy and Garrett laughing under his hand.

Satisfied with herself and feeling a little less cranky than when she entered the tavern, she went straight for the counter, winking at Corff and asking him whatever hard liquor tasted less like piss he had.

She heard someone calling her from behind, but honestly? She didn’t want the company. Not this evening. This evening was for getting in the first fight on the way, no daggers, no weapons, just good old punches and kicks, and getting horribly drunk. She killed the fucking Arishok and suddenly everyone in Hightown liked her, the hypocrites, she had sex with one of her best friends on a whim and said best friend somehow didn’t hate her, was ok with the thing, just told her to settle things up with the other friend she really liked and had sex with and tell her what she decided. And who never came to check on her whilst she healed. Not when she was conscious at least, she’s been told the piratess has been there in the first night, after they got back from the palace. But then? Nothing.

And Raina Hawke was never good at talking about feelings. And feelings, with Bela, were very clearly out of the discussion. So, she would have done the sensible thing anyone in her fucked up position would do. Drown the feelings that shouldn’t be there in… It was clear, it could be whatever spirit brewed in a cellar in Darktown- and get on with her life. Decided what she wanted to do with her life.

Maybe the answer was on the bottom of that glass.

But when she drowned it, all in one gulp, there was none, just her throat burning hot, and her hand hurting really bad. Fantastic, the thugs had hard heads for real. She shook the offending appendage in the air, breathing out the too strong liquor and, finally, assessing the situation. Her knuckles were angry and red, and the blood was hers too, gushing out from a couple of bad cuts across the bones. Right when her fingers bent, and she bent them enough not to let the cut close. Fantastic.

She grunted, rubbing angrily her hand against her jacket -it was dirty anyway- and asking for another drink. Maybe it would have been the right one for an answer.

Isabela, tho, arrived before her drink, casually leaning her back against the counter, right beside her.

“What next, convincing Martin to lower his prices by gnawing at his ears?”

“You know me, I live to serve.”

“A difficult course of action. If Anders entered now and saw you like this, he’d tie you to the bed.”

“He wished.”

She snorted, mirthlessly. Feeling horrible right after for the sarcasm she used. She didn’t know if it was already cool joking on it, or it was too soon after he tried to kiss her and she had to tell him she wasn’t interested. In boys in general. Never been.

Her liquor arrived, giving her at least a distraction. Another shot right down her throat, all of a sudden. It hurt less than the first, her throat probably numbing. The silence felt forced and tense, and she was about to ask for maybe another couple of small drinks, when Bela stopped her, placing a hand on her elbow and pulling a little.

“Come on, Champion, let me see that hand.”

“What for.”

“We wouldn’t want Blondie to throw a fit because you’re undoing all his hard work.”

She laughed, but there was little joy in it, and she refused to look at her in the eyes, carefully looking at a random point on the other side of the room. Raina nodded and followed her, snaking through other adventors and usual faces to climb up the stairs, Isabela leading her to the room she inhabited. It wasn’t the first time, Raina knew what to expect. Few things scattered untidily around with little care, trinkets on surfaces of little value, just to sway thieves so uncareful to go stealing from her, just the bed neatly done.

And what she met was a tidy room, knick-knacks at their usual place, but no clothes, bad romance novels, papers and quills and tools around. An opened sack tossed in a corner, evidently full. So that was it. Raina tried to ignore the sting of knowing she was leaving, didn’t comment in the least to anything she saw. She just politely asked for permission to ender the Captain’s quarters, in a mock salute, and went to sit on the foot of the bed, perching on the border, when she was allowed in. She didn’t take off the jacket, but just focused on her boots as Bela retrieved from her sack the small lacquered box she kept her medicinal tools in. Because a girls must be ready for everything. And brought to the bed the bowl of water from the vanity, with a clean cloth.

She offered her hand when she asked, not saying anything but a nod of her head and letting her work, washing it thoroughly and disinfecting it with a pomade she had for the occasions. It stung, it really stung, and Raina hissed through her teeth, instinctively trying to retract her hand.

“For a person who gets in so many fights, your pain tolerance is incredibly low.” She giggles, and if Raina had wanted to hurt herself more, she could stop and consider that behind her words there was some affection. But, no.

“Why being predictable, after all. Predictability is boring.”

“Exactly, why.”

Silence fell again as Isabela carefully rubbed the pomade on her knuckles, fingers very delicate on hers and pressing a little on the meaty part of her hand, in a proper massage. It shouldn’t have been so intimate, none of them even closed the door. But they’d been there in other situations, none of them had involved luggages ready for departure, and there hadn’t been any “I almost died to save your life” part yet.  When she finished, Bela didn’t let go of the hand, taking it in both of hers and placing it on her lap. Raina didn’t turn to look and let her do, stubbornly silent.

“Listen. I’m… I wanted to thank you for what you did. All of it.”

“I should thank you for coming back.”

“Yeah, sure.” She snorted. “You could have done it without me. You and Aveline could have stormed the Keep on your own, add your brother in the mix and neither the ashes would have been left.”

“I… “ I didn’t care enough to do it. Weren’t it for you, I would have left the city to the Qunari. She can’t tell her anything of that sort, tho. “… I don’t think so.” Better. Less pining. Maybe.

She heard sighing from her right, some more fumbling in the box, before something leant on her knuckles. A rapid glance on the side showed clean bandages being wrapped around it. The discourse looked concluded, but if Bela was really leaving, she had to ask. She needed to ask.

“You never came to say hi, ever since the Keep.” There. She couldn’t look at her anymore. “Why so?”

The work on her hand stopped.

“I am sorry. I… I was busy.”

Oh. So it was that. Busy. Well, she could understand it. After all, they had stolen back a relic from a gang of bandits whose boss was still around and knew who did it. And she also had had to organise her journey. Of course. Raina couldn’t reply, too busy, herself, to suppress everything, every nasty, self-deprecating and uncomfortable feeling that was arising in her throat. She wished it was alcohol, but she didn’t drink enough. She swallowed it.

“Well, you missed Anders almost getting along with Fenris, and Merrill playing doctor. It was fun. And Wicked Grace on my bed all together in our nightwear. Nothing much, anyway, we could do it again.” A pause. “Well, not the Anders and Fenris not trying to jump at each other’s throat, that would be difficult to recreate.”

“Merrill told me.”

“About the pyjama party? Yes, that was fun, Garrett and her built a huge pillow fort, Beowoof destroyed running right at it. It was-”

“She told me about you. And her.”

“… Ah.”

She froze, not replying in the least. And what to tell her? Yeah she had been crying and she was cute and I fucked it up but maybe not so much.

“She’s a good one, Hawke she’ll… She’ll be good for you.”

It hurt, honestly. It hurt even more than that luggage ready for departure.

“What about…?”

“We had our fun together. But that was it. Fun, right?”

“Yeah…” No, it was not. Not for her. “It’s been fun.”

She didn’t sound convinced, not even to herself. But, whatever doubts she had is ignored, swept away in that pile of unsaid and unexpressed that’s raising so high this evening. And with that, Bela deemed the bandage done, and patted delicately the back of her hand, satisfied.

“There, good as new. And that’s it.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow.”

“I see.”

“It’s… I can’t stay here, Hawke.”

“I understand.”

“Castillon’s men will look for me.”

“Of course.”

“And… I don’t want to drag you in. I already did too much damage to you.”

“I was the one to follow you and not Aveline.”

“It wasn’t Aveline you almost died in a one-on-one combat.”

And, Raina had no words to reply to that. She just slouched forward, propping her elbows on her thighs and crossing her fingers between them, observing with focus a larger crack between two of the planks of the pavement, following the nodes in the woods.

“I- Listen, I’m not good for you. Haven’t been from the start. We both know it. I told you I didn’t want feelings.”

“You did.”

“And, you found another person. It’s gonna be fine. Someone has to think of your own good, while you’re so busy thinking of everyone else’s…”

“It makes sense.”

She felt her eyes burning, and clenched her jaw, hard, not to cry. What had Merrill done to her, that she now cried at every given chance? So many years in carefully avoiding it and now, twice in a week? She hated Kirkwall.

A hand clenched on her shoulder -contracted to the limit shoulder, but the fingers managed to squeeze nonetheless.

“So, goodbye, Hawke. And thank you, really. For everything. I’ll… I’ll leave you here, take your time. It’s the least I can do.”

And with that, Isabela rose up, mattress swaying a little as her weight left it. One step, another, another one as the Captain reached the door, hinges squeaking-

“It doesn’t have to be one over the other.” Raina blurted out, unwillingly. She hated how desperate she looked. But she could care later. “I mean, if you two are ok… It works with both, for me. All three of us. If you’re ok.”

There, out in the open, the forbidden dream she couldn’t even admit with herself. Drooling out of her lips before she can even think about what she was saying. Her heart thumped so loud in her ears, nose pricked as the urge to cry got more and more urgent every second Isabela didn’t speak. But again, she suppressed tears for twenty years. She could resist some more, contracting her fingers on themselves until the knuckles still visible became white. And waiting.

“… Goodbye, Hawke. Thank you.”

And with that, the door closed behind Bela, and Raina was left to herself and her tears, bursting out suddenly and more violently than she would have expected. She didn’t care if she could be heard -the walls of that place were horribly thin- or of whatever. She just slipped to the ground, pressed her face between her thighs, and hugged her knees, crying and crying until she had no more to give.

By all means, all Isabela said made perfect, absolute sense. But this was Kirkwall, and this was her, and nothing in that city or in her life followed rules that made any sense. So, she just dragged herself to her feet, and marched right out of the tavern, straight to home.

There was alcohol that was more reliable, at home, for sure.

[the-technicolor-whiscash]

It’s always pretty funny going back to playing da2 after playing other games esp more recent ones cause like I just started another playthrough of horizon zero Dawn which is this beautifully crafted universe with rich characters and deep worldbuilding and stunning graphics and it’s like wow this is a good game. And then I boot up da2 on my pc and I’m crawling through identical dungeons that look like they’re carved out of cat vomit while also making friends with characters with some of the most insane moral dilemmas and life stories you’ve ever seen and it’s like oh yeah. This bitch needed some more time in the oven. The bread ain’t done proving Bestie you gotta let this bitch rise before you can bake it.

I still love da2. I would take a bullet for each of the companions. No exceptions even if I don’t like them as much if they’re Hawke’s friend we’re all fuckin staying together whether we like it or not. But boy. Boy.

[seigephoenix]

Kinktober 2024: Edging

Set during DA2 before Alissa and Garrett discovered what good communication and a healthy relationship looked like. XD

Ship: Alissa Trevelyan x Garrett Hawke Content Warning: cunnilingus, sass, a tinsy bit of angst, fingering Length: 3.7k

Alissa prided herself on being a very patient person, kind and understanding, but Garrett Hawke had managed what no one else had in Kirkwall in the almost ten years she’d lived in it.  He managed to get to the end of her patience.  No one seemed to know exactly where he was either, and Alissa knew they were keeping it from her on purpose.  She stormed up the stairs of the Hanged Man, to Varric’s personal chambers.  Isabela chuckled and turned back to her drink, wishing she could listen in to that conversation.  Everyone knew that Hawke had taken a chance on making a bet with Alissa, and now it was time to pay up.  Isabela heard about the stakes and she wished to be a fly on that wall but knew that Hawke had his limits.  Too bad though.  She thought she’d greatly enjoy the torment that was about to land in the hero’s lap.

“Varric Tethras,” Alissa said in the most menacing tone she could muster.  Varric looked up and gave her a jaunty grin while holding his hands out in welcome.  Alissa stomped over to him and gave him a look that gave him plenty of warning not to bullshit her.  “Don’t act cute with me.”

“C’mon now Dimples.  Would I act cute with you?” Varric asked as she stood next to his chair with her hands propped up on her hips and a vicious glare in those storm colored eyes.

“Varric.  I am nearing the end of my patience.  Where is Hawke?” Varric pretended to think about it and answered that he hadn’t seen him all day.  “Varric…”

“I’m telling you the truth Dimples.  I haven’t seen him all day.” Varric grinned and Alissa’s eye twitched in annoyance.  She crossed her arms and leaned in until they were nose to nose.  “I’m hurt that you don’t trust me.”  He grinned in the face of her ire even with the sweat dripping down his back.

“I see the game you’re playing Tethras, and I’ll raise your stakes.  Remember that you had your chance to give me the answer I wanted.”  Alissa straightened and stormed back out the Hanged Man.  Isabela joined Varric and propped her boots on the table.  She knew that Alissa had zero qualms using dirty tactics to get what she wanted.  She almost felt bad for Varric.  Almost.

“You know you should have just given up Hawke’s location.  Angering a woman like that isn’t very smart Varric,” Isabela told him with a grin.

“Well, Hawke offered up quite the prize if I didn’t tell her where he was hidden.”  Varric grinned and leaned back with his tankard of ale.  “Besides, I don’t know what Dimples thinks she can do.  Love the girl like a sister, but I just don’t see her outplaying Hawke this time.”

Two Weeks Later

“Hawke.  Hawke!” Varric burst through the estate’s door panicked and shut it quickly before anyone else could see him.

“Varric?  What is going on?” Garrett asked as he looked down from the railing.  Varric looked up at him and Leandra looked between them curiously.  Rarely did anything fluster Varric this badly.

“Hawke, I know you wanted to win this little tiff between you and Dimples.  I don’t think you’re going to manage that anymore.” Varric seemed nervous and that alarmed Garrett.  They both looked up as Aveline strode through the door, shutting it behind her as well.  She looked smug as hell when she stood downstairs below the railing with her arms crossed and her weight leaning to one side.

“Hawke.”  Varric and Hawke both stared as the guard captain joined Alissa’s side and then up as the door opened once again for the sultry pirate.  Both women didn’t look amused at all which sent alarm bells ringing in Garrett’s head.

“Aveline?  Isabela?”  Aveline turned as Isabela joined her.  “What is going on here?”

“You haven’t heard?” Aveline asked and Hawke looked at all three of his friends.  “Oh, you haven’t…”  Aveline looked at Alissa and sighed.  “Was this all to find Hawke?”

“Well, if you recall I did ask nicely first.  Hardly my fault when everyone else fails to realize I don’t lose.”  Alissa grinned as Aveline rolled her eyes before turning to face Hawke once again.

“Sunshine Meadery is closed for renovations,” Aveline began but Isabela stepped forward looking irate with Hawke.

“Closed until one of us gave up your location,” Isabela grumbled as she swept her arm out towards Alissa.  Aveline pinched the bridge of her nose.

“As such the city has a bit of a shortage going on.” Avelina shook her head as Hawke gaped at the three women standing there.  Alissa turned to look at him and the smirk on her lips pissed him off.  She played with people’s livelihoods by closing the brewery.

“Dimples, you wouldn’t do that to your workers would you?” Varric asked.

“You think that little of me Tethras?  Of course I paid them for the time off.  Told ‘em they earned some quality time off with their families.  Full two weeks of pay and those that stayed to do guard rotation got a bonus.”  Alissa waved her hand nonchalantly in front of her.

“Well, you found Hawke.  Will you please open the brewery again?  Please?” Isabela asked as she enveloped Alissa in a tight embrace.

“At the end of the two weeks I will.  It’s almost at the end.” Isabela cheered and told Hawke good luck before she trotted out with Aveline right behind her.  Varric looked at Alissa then at Hawke before he sighed at the plaintive look Hawke sent him.

“You’re on your own Hawke.  Sorry,” Varric backed away with his hands up and shut the door behind him.  Leandra cleared her throat and greeted Alissa.

“I do believe I shall visit some of the ladies for tea.”  She walked out with her head held high and only a slightly noticeable faster gait than normal.  Alissa resisted grinning as everyone abandoned Hawke, even Bodahn and Sandal found errands to run outside.

“Well, look at that.” Alissa shook her head as she heard Hawke grumbling upstairs.  Honestly, the man refused to pay up for losing that bet and it irked her.  She didn’t know what his problem was, it wasn’t as if she was asking for a lot to begin with.  “Pay up Hawke.”

“You ran my staff off, how in the hell am I going to pay up?” Garrett demanded from the landing.  Alissa’s lips twisted and he felt the panic settling in.  “If you’d want my cooking then be my guest for dinner.”  She sighed and crossed her arms.

“You know, all you had to do was pay up Hawke.  It was just dinner.  That was all you owed me!” Alissa yelled up at him as she made her way to the stairs.  “Dinner!  You could’ve bought that at the Hanged Man.  They know better than the poison me.”  She started going up the steps leaving Hawke panicked.

“Dinner, alone!”  She froze and her hand tightened on the banister.

“So that’s the way it is then?” Alissa asked quietly.  Hawke looked at her in surprise as she turned on her heel and started back down the stairs.  “Consider us even Hawke.”  She didn’t stop until the door shut behind her and Garrett had a sinking feeling in his gut.

Over the next few weeks he noticed there was one person absent whenever he went into the Hanged Man.  Garrett visited Varric and planted himself in between the dwarf and freedom.  “Okay, why is she avoiding me?”

“Who?  Daisy?  She’s not avoiding you.  She’s just lost.  Guess she ran out of that twine I gave her,” Varric said as he made a note to send her another one.

“No.”

“Rivaini?  Didn’t think she was avoiding you.”  Hawke’s fingers dug into his biceps as Varric spoke without looking at him.

“Varric.”

“Aveline?  She’s got a lot on her plate with those break ins and such.  That’s why you haven’t seen much of her.” Varric looked up at Hawke when leaned in.  It would be a menacing sight if Varric wasn’t irritated on Alissa’s behalf.

“Trevelyan.”

“Oh you mean Dimples.  Why are you so angry about that Hawke?” Varric asked with a sly grin.  “Thought you didn’t want to be around her anyway, what with you avoiding her and all not too long ago.”

“You know that’s different.” Varric tilted his head.

“So it’s okay for you to disappear and avoid the woman for two whole weeks, but it’s not okay when she does the same?  C’mon Hawke, I’m not the greatest mathematician but the math ain’t mathing here.”  Varric shrugged and Garrett’s lips twisted into a frown.  “You need to make a decision about Dimples.”

“That is none of your business,” Hawke grumbled but Varric simply shrugged.

“You made it my business by asking me to lie to my friend.  You’re my best friend but she’s my oldest friend.” Varric reminded him.  “She doesn’t deserve to be jerked around like you’re doing Hawke.”

Hawke knew Varric was right but there was still too much he was unsure about.  He didn’t have a title, just an estate in Hightown.  His blood ran red while hers was blue.  How could he stand by her side when he was so far beneath her station, it was laughable.  He tried to explain that to Varric who merely shook his head and laughed.

“Think about who you’re talking about.  Maybe her sister would care, and that’s only because I don’t know her sister like her.  This is Alissa we’re talking about here.  She doesn’t care about titles and the like, never has as far as I can remember.  She told me once that if it wouldn’t cause a scandal, her father would have disowned her years ago.  So take the fact she’s a lady because of lucky circumstances at face value.  Has Dimples ever given you the idea she cared about titles?”  Garrett opened his mouth to speak but he remembered that argument clearly.  She’d spat at him that she didn’t care about bloodlines since aristocrats had few branches on their family trees.  She’d rather judge a person on their actions rather than what a few words on a pedigree said.  Hawke’s shoulders slumped and he sighed in defeat.

“I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah, but we’ll let it slide this time.  If you want to speak to Dimples, she’s at her home in Hightown for the rest of the day.  Doing reports.”  Hawke was up and gone before Varric could finish speaking, leaving him chuckling at his friend’s back as it disappeared out the door of the tavern.  “You’ve got it bad for Dimples don’t you Hawke?  Good luck.”  Varric grinned and wondered if he could market this little love story but decided against it.

Trevelyan Hightown Estate

“Who is it!?” Alissa jerked open the door after the incessant knocking pulled her from her study.  She’d given the staff the week off so she could sulk in peace.  She had not expected any guests so annoyance rode high on her shoulders.  “Hawke!” Alissa paused for only a second before she tried to close the door in his face.  Garrett pushed against it and Alissa yelped in frustration as he pushed it open.  “Go away!”

“No.”  He took advantage of the way she froze at his answer to push his way inside her home and shut the door behind him.  Alissa took a step backwards before squaring off against him.

“No?  What do you mean no!?  Get out!” She pointed towards the door behind him but he merely tilted his head staring at her as if she was a child.  She hated that.  “Hawke.”

“Why have you been avoiding me?” Her jaw dropped open before she spun on her heel muttering about idiots as she marched back into her study.

“See yourself out.”  Garrett followed behind her despite the mumbled threats to his dignity spewing from the red head.  He stopped her from slamming the study door grinning at the irate expression on her face.  She looked adorable when she was angry but he was smart enough not to say so aloud when she had any weapons in the vicinity.

“Not until you tell me.”  Hawke paused when a pillow was thrown into his face.  “Resorting to violence?  I’m offended madam.”  He ducked the next one thrown at his head and scoffed as she called him names.  “Horse’s ass?  I thought you’d have more creativity than that.”

“I gave you what you wanted Hawke!” Alissa yelled, which caught his attention.  “I won our little game but victory tasted bitter after finding you.  I gave up!” She wanted to punch something but that never made her feel any better and she leashed the tears before they fell.  “I gave up.”  She turned her face towards the fireplace to hide the hurt she knew was there.  She’d never been the greatest at hiding her expressions, not when she was too overwhelmed with emotions.  She turned all the way around to face the fireplace while he remained silent.

“I’m not.” Alissa heaved a sigh as the words tangled on her tongue.  “You may think that I’m just some frivolous noblewoman toying with a man’s feelings based on my whim.  But that’s not me.  And I don’t know how I can make you see that.  I tease but never in a mean way.”  She crossed her arms over her stomach as she watched the flames dancing in the fireplace.  “You do know I never would have accepted the stakes if I knew you didn’t want to have dinner.  Or I’d have accepted dinner with everyone.  I’m.  I’d never force my feelings onto anyone.”  As she spoke, Alissa’s hand moved with her words as if to emphasize her point.

Hawke let her words sink into him and he realized how badly he’d hurt this person in front of him.  He’d painted her with the same brush the nobility used, but that wasn’t her.  The woman he knew wasn’t like that.  She used her privilege as a weapon against the other nobles in order to make sure the ones behind her were protected.  She’d never be that fickle or callous.  He rubbed the back of his head as he tried to think of the words to use, but words had never been something with which he was good.  He walked over to her and paused at her side, letting his shoulders brush against her.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.  He saw her shoulders stiffen before she looked away from him.

“Don’t be.  I’m the one who pushed.”  She sighed and rubbed her temple as if to ease an ache there.  “For pushing your boundaries I am sorry Hawke.”  Alissa turned away from him and the fire and towards her desk.  He saw the stack of papers there and wondered about them.

“I’ll accept your apology if you’ll accept mine,” Hawke told her and she heaved a heavy sigh again.

“Fine.  Apology accepted.  Now I’d best get back to this paperwork.” Alissa shook her head at it.  She didn’t want to respond to the Comte’s proposal of marrying into his family and this was the fourth time she’d turned the man down for marrying a relative.  He seemed to pull at least one cousin out every week.  She’d be impressed if she wasn’t so annoyed by it.

Alissa shrieked when Hawke’s arm went around her waist and he hauled her up over his shoulder.  She took a moment to process what had happened before she smacked Hawke’s back.  She winced and shook her hand to ease the stinging there, it was like hitting steel.  “Put me down Hawke!” Alissa yelled that ended on another shriek when his hand cracked across her ass.  Alissa struggled but nothing was budging that arm of his.  “Hawke.”  He turned and walked out of her study and towards the stairs.  “Don’t you even think about it!  I’m still mad at you!”

“I thought you accepted my apology?” Hawke teased as he walked up the stairs.  She grumbled about men being stupid.  “I can’t argue with you.”

“Hawke!!  Put me down!” Alissa squealed and grabbed onto the doorframe as they passed it.  Hawke barely paused in his stride before her fingers slipped off the wooden frame with a sound of defeat coming from her.

“Put you down?  Alright.”  Alissa had a brief second to realize what he meant before she was bouncing on her mattress and pushing against Hawke’s chest as he loomed over her.  She glared up at him with those amber eyes gleaming with mischief above her.  Her nose wrinkled in irritation as she pushed against him to no avail.

“Hawke!  No!” Alissa huffed at him but he merely captured her hands in his and pinned them above her head.  “Sex isn’t going to make me less mad at you.”

“I doubt anything short of the Maker himself forgiving me, would work on that.”  Hawke paused as his free hand slowly slipped the buttons of her shirt free.  “And even then, I have my doubts.”  His lips grazed over the soft skin exposed and she bit down on the moan.

“Hawke.”  Alissa yelped when his teeth nipped sharply along the side of her breast through the cloth there.  “That hurt.”

“And you’ve told me you enjoy pain.  What’s your point?” Hawke asked as he looked up at her.  She huffed at him.  “You’re cute when you’re angry.”  He grinned when she grumbled about his senses fleeing.  “They always do when you get mad.”

“You can’t honestly say you enjoy me yelling at you?” Alissa asked.

“Well, when you get this certain tone of voice with me it makes me rock hard.”  Hawke slowly rolled his hips against hers and she sucked in a breath.  “Gets me all hot and bothered.”  Alissa glared at him when he kissed a trail down from her collarbone to the slope of her breast.  Her head fell back on a moan when his lips closed over the nipple through the cloth.  “I love that sound too.”

Her hips rocked against his hand when his fingers dipped below her waistband to find her already soaked.  “You like it too.  And here you are pretending to be mad at me.”  She turned her head to the side at his chuckle.  “You’ve gotta be honest.”

“As if.”  Alissa paused on a moan when his palm made gentle circles against her clit.  “As if I’ll admit to anything.”  His lips curved against her breast.

“Is that a challenge?”  She tilted her chin when he lifted his head.

“It is.”  Garrett smirked.  His hand released hers and tugged her pants down before he settled in between her thighs before she could utter any sort of protest.  He merely rested his cheek against the inside of her thigh when her hand pushed at his forehead.

“What do you think you’re doing Hawke?” Alissa hissed but he shook her head off before leaning in.  Her back bowed when his lips closed over her clit.  She didn’t know what his game was, but she wasn’t going to lose.  Her fingers tangled in his hair as she stretched towards that pinnacle.  The pleasure was a tight ball throbbing between her legs, but right as she was about to fall, he pulled back.  Leaving her scrambling against the frustration cutting through the haze of desire in her mind.  He instead trailed his lips down her leg, leaving a path of fiery kisses and reddened skin in his wake.  The scrape of his beard against her skin never failed to leave her body throbbing in need.

Alissa struggled to contain her breathing as the throbbing lessened and Hawke returned his attention to her needy clit.  Alissa’s fingers tugged when he brought her to the edge and backed away again.  “Why?”

“Are you still mad at me?” Alissa’s eyes narrowed at the question and she turned her head away from him.  “Ah, still mad.”  He grinned before turning his head and nipping at the skin of her inner thigh.

Alissa whined when he pulled away yet again after bringing her to the edge.  “Hawke.  Don’t tease me.”  She crossed her ankles over his back trying to keep him close to her when he sat back on the bed.  His hands rested on her thighs, keeping them spread open for him.

“Are you still mad at me?” Hawke grinned as she huffed at him.  “That sounds like a yes.”  He grinned when she scrambled to sit up and reached for him.

“No, I’m not mad anymore.” Garrett grinned at the desperate plea in her voice.  He wanted to torment her just one more time.  His palm massaged her clit with slow small circles.  He hissed when her nails bit into his skin, dragging along little lines of fire in their wake down his back.  Her legs trembled with the need he knew was building inside of her.  Just once more.  Just one more time.  He wanted to see the frustration on her face, the tears in her eyes, and those lips begging him for release.

Alissa’s voice cracked as she begged him for relief.  Heat clouded her mind and all she wanted was to fall over the edge.  To come and come hard.  Garrett leaned in and brushed his lips against her collarbone, the rough scrape of his beard heightening the intense heat swirling inside.  Her back arched, her fingers dug into his arms, and she clenched her teeth as the tension coiled between her legs in a messy, sloppy heated knot.

The sound of the door opening downstairs startled them both.  “Alissa?” Alissa’s eyes widened and she practically jumped away from Hawke’s hand.  Her body screamed at her in frustration and Garrett gave her a concerned stare.  She met his concern with panic and he looked over at the door as the sound of footsteps reached them.

“Hawke, hide!” Alissa hissed as she rolled away from him.

“Why?”

“That’s my mother!”  He reached for her and pulled her in close.  His lips covered hers in a heated, devouring kiss before releasing her and he stepped out onto the balcony.  Leaving her aching, frustrated, and wanting more.  She shook off the haze as best as she could and yanked on her pants before her mother made it into her room.

[dragonagepolls]

#hey why the fuck is the amount of people who voted merrill so high#i work in IT and part of my job is tech support and im an expert on this so#merrill: very tech savvy. knows all the lingo. i would not question het about whether she has already booted her computer. shes the kind of#person who. if she were to call IT theyd all be like ''oh no it's merrill who wants to answer...'' bc i KNOW her tech problems would be some#nightmare problems no one on the internet has ever before even looked up. like. something that takes a long time to solve#bc she has already tried everything and shes tol busy to do more#bethany ans carver: know how to operate a smartphone and the very basics of using a laptop#aveline: she knows the programs she needs to use at work. rarely has problems. could do shit with excel.#varric: he would be capable of using tech. but also. if you were to ask him something like ''do you use one drive on your computer'' hed ask#u to repeat that in english. i know it in my heart. he does not know what a cloud is. he knows how to send emails and look stuff up and use#some programs or sites and thats enough#sebastian: im sorry ive yet to play da2 dlc but he looks like a tech bro (derogatory). i doubt he would be but. yknow.#fenris: ''he cant read'' ok shut up thats irrelevant. he would get by and he's resilient and a fast learner#he doesnt need help with the same problem more than once#now. isabela. she. okay she is so very smart and capable and i love her but could you honestly see her using any piece of technology#she would not be an instagram influencer she would have a rotation of burner phones#using a computer is nerd shit. she has the sea what kind of tech do u need there. actually yeah modern ships have a lot of tech#she would be proficient with those. man i voted wrong.#my point was going to be that i cant see isabela using a phone or a computer ever#ok no yeah i still cant see her being good with tech. isabela my love im sorry.#anders: he knows the basics of using a computer and could do VERY simple html to post on forums#hed have a shitty ass webbed site#i dont think hes generally good with tech though. doesnt give me the vibes. (via @perilegs)

[ars0nism]

me having 100+ approval with zevran and neutral with literally everyone else except wynne for some reason???

[kiivg]

What your art process? Do you do the backgrounds first or last? How do you pick colors? Sorry if you answered ask like this before. I am just big fan of how the art is completed looks! I like looking at all the small things and people in background!

.Thank you so much!! I am trying very hard with my art at the moment to do a few new things, always trying to improve, and I'm super enjoying it at the moment despite the 8,000,000 year art block I had hahaa.

.There's a sort of in depth look at my process below, but also I have a gigantic grand total of 2 videos on my youtube channel and I do not know how to record on this tablet so idk what's going to happen there :)c.

.So initially, I don't ever just sit down and draw something, like I have to at least have a vague idea in my head of what I want to draw. Right now it's all Dragon Age because I replayed DA2 and actually managed to do the Fenris romance, and then I wanted to try his rivalmance because Anders' rivalmance is delicious but apparently Fenris' sucks so... Wah. Also Sebastian ehehehee.

.Anyway, (if these pictures are unreadable I will scream and upload them separately), Depending on how clear my idea is on what I want the picture to look like depends on how clear the initial sketches are that I do. Like I could try to draw a few different angles or a few different poses, or start drawing like, for example, Hawke dancing whilst playing the lute thinking he was going to be in a tavern, and then changing it to a more sombre version of him in Crestwood at night with a few of the Inquisitor's companions. Like I say a lot, I like to have a story in mind with each picture, so the Champion in Crestwood image lead to things like, does Hawke have a fling with Dorian where he's very clear about not being able to give him what he wants (re: a boyfriend), because he's still in love with Sebastian, despite them breaking up years ago (re: Anders blows up the chantry). And I think that adds up to a lot in the picture, because it lets you put more things in that fit into a context; even if the majority on that picture is covered up by people.

.If I don't know what I'm drawing entirely, then I'll draw it in sections, like I'll draw what I know I want to draw, and then kind of fit things around it. The exception being that if I have a particular angle I want to draw, then I will sketch only the thumbnail and then the background, and then fit the thumbnail sketch better to the background, and then carry on as usual. Most of the time, the background is just framing lines and maybe the vague outline of what could end up being a pillar, or a flag, or a statue, or those kinds of things.

.Somethings end up being like a foreground filler (Varric is surprisingly good for that haha), which add another layer to the picture and hide something that can be quite monotonous, like drawing Meeran's trousers in that last picture, I didn't feel like they were interesting enough, so I just put two people playing cards in the front. It makes it a lot better, like yes, I did draw Meeran’s trousers, and his boots, and I ended up removing them. 

.But that’s a lesson I had to learn. I can actually draw something, completely line it, and then decide, actually it’d be cool if this was there instead, and just erase part of my picture. Like so many times I’ve watched youtube timelapses and watched people sketch everything, and then line everything, and then colour everything, and nothing is ever thrown away. But you can throw it away if it doesn’t fit, and you don’t get special artist points for not doing that or whatever idk, imaginary artist rules are dumb.

.One thing I do want to say is that when I’m drawing, I do take several hours to do a picture. Because like the Fade picture, that background is so line heavy, so many lines, so much to colour in and shade and everything. But it looks so cool haha. And since I take several hours I can get bored of just linearting the same thing. I’m not going to enjoy drawing someone’s outfit from head to toe in one sitting. It’s just too samey for me, so I like to flit around the picture. I’ll draw Carver’s face, and then I’ll draw Hawke’s face, and then I’ll draw Carver’s hands, and then start on the Inquisitor. Not only does it keep my brain finely tuned to what I’m doing, it also gives me fresh eyes on what I’ve already drawn. 

.Adding to this, it’s also good to go back to the sketch when I’m slowing down on lineart. I don’t know about other people but I don’t use pen pressure, all my lines are 3px, that is extremely samey across the whole picture, it can become kind of repetitive. So I go back to the sketch, and if there’s nothing that I haven’t drawn properly or clearly enough (I hardly ever sketch hands/feet or the things connected to on the first go round) I just add something else in. Maybe someone could be wearing another belt, or some fancy embellishment on their clothing, or maybe a whole other dude is there in the background. Just the simple action of going from clean straight lines to messy chicken scratch kind of loosens up the hands and switches the brain round, and after I’ve sketched what I need to, I’m fresh on the lineart again.

.So onto colour, I’m not going to lie, I do a lot of colour picking initially from my old stuff haha, and then edit it from there. It allows me to kind of pick skin/hair tones and then build off of those, so I’m not just white canvas to colour immediately. I also tend to sick to a very loose colour gamut, ranging from desaturated blues, purples, pinks, reds, and sometimes desaturated yellows. I don’t like using orange and I don’t like using green, the exception being the Fade picture which HAS to be green so I’m brave, I left my comfort zone there, and it worked, lmao, whatever.

.But what I start with is a limited palette, I have maybe three or four colours to start with, and then I slightly change those colours depending on what I need. Like for an example, does Sebastian’s jacket need to be lighter than his pants or darker, then I can just grab the colours of his pants and then change it as per what I want.

.The secret, imho, is putting the colours of people into the surrounding area like I explain below. It makes their skin or their hair or their eye colours fit in to the picture; it’s like an alternate version to reflective light (I think?). Yes this character does have blue eyes, but in this picture? Purple. Yes this character does have grey hair, but in this picture? It’s golden. It’s reflective light, it’s a colour gamut, and it’s colour theory. Which I’m not an expert on and other people can probably explain it better :).

.Throughout the picture’s process I will tend to change the colours of some things, or add layers of “Darker Colour” or “Subtract” or all those fancy things because I sort of know how they work. I used to use the “Soft Overlay(?)” but I prefer “Lighter/Darker colour” because it will only change a percentage of the image. Like for the picture above I made the whites of Sebastian and his wife’s clothing more yellow and subsequently warmer using the “Darker Colour” filter. If you experiment with those, you’ll learn how to use them how you like.

.For changing the colours of things (like Varric’s coat or the wine tray), it’s mostly about trying to balance the image out. It added some darker elements to the picture above because everything was no longer super pale. It frames Sebastian, his wife, and Hawke in a better way, they are essentially the brightest things in the picture.

.I also found out that personally I like to make things dark and the add highlights as opposed to the other way around. I feel like adding an orange light can be more beneficial than adding a blue shadow. But you could also do both which looks banging. Another thing with colour is the actual colour of the lineart. I usually take the darkest colour on the picture, and put it at anywhere between 15% and 50% on a layer above that only affects the lineart. (Can’t remember what that’s called exactly oops.) but that also helps to tie the picture in together.

.Anyway!! Thank you again! I’m having a lot of fun drawing and have gained a lot of followers lately, hello :). I’m always open to questions (especially about my OCs god if you ask me about them I will just be ecstatic) and I love reading all your tags and knowing all the pain I caused with that picture of Carver in the Fade >:)c hehhehehehh.

.Hopefully this is helpful? Or Interesting? Or, if this is TLDR: Sketch, lineart; you can do those things simultaneously, colour gamuts are your friend, the state of your art is not permanent, and I love you :).

[crossdressingdeath]

v-arbellanaris

but the avvar and the dalish don't have an apprenticeship system? it's not like lanaya or merrill or lavellan are going to get kicked out of the clan if they "don't do well" in their training? lanaya, merrill and lavellan are receiving training as FIRSTS specifically but lanaya mentions there was competition for the /role/, not that all other mages in the clans were simply not trained?

for similar reasons, i don't think the avvar have an apprenticeship system either? because food, lodging, etc aren't dependent on their "role" or "job" or "training" as a mage, and the "training" isn't about providing inexpensive labour but about education.

and the argument for malcolm kind of proves the point, doesn't it, that community-based mage education is better? malcolm may have taught them how to cast as he was taught to cast in the circle, but he's NOT teaching them in the circle, and he's teaching them his own interpretation of what it means to be a mage, the responsibilities you have that come with magic etc. and some of that is informed by the circle, but it's also a very clear departure from the party line..

I think what's happening here is that you're using "apprentice" in a different way from how I'm using it. We know that the Dalish do refer to the First of the clan as the Keeper's apprentice; it's in mage Lavellan's description on their tarot card when you first boot up the game, for example (in fact it's not even clarified if they are the First, they're just referred to as the Keeper's apprentice, they could be the Second or not even hold any particular position if we ignore the "only three mages" retcon). Similarly, Master Ilen in DA2 refers to having apprentices as a craftsman (he intends to leave with them if the clan doesn't leave Sundermount soon), and 'master' is his actual title. We know that "apprentice" is a word they use for students learning from a particular person in a particular skillset, whether their use matches the standard modern definition or not, because... well, they use it, and yeah, they're probably not going to kick the First out if they don't perform and I doubt they're demanding labour for food and lodging. I'm using the word in relation to general non-Circle teachings because setting aside the "food and lodging for labour" thing (which at least some groups in Thedas clearly don't use as part of the definition) it's a good description. Also I like the way it sounds.

And with Malcolm... I mean, given how much Bethany hates her magic the question of how well he got away from his Circle teachings is a bit up in the air. But my point was more that Malcolm's teachings aren't really proof that there's no need for a school for mages, because he came from... well, the Circle, which unfortunately is the closest thing to a school for mages southern Thedas has (at least before the College is established). I don't think someone whose teachings come directly from what could (very charitably) be called a school (more or less) is proof that there's no need for a school, because even with him doing his best to get away from the worst parts of the Circle's teachings most of what he taught Bethany and mage Hawke would've come from his lessons in the Circle. (Flemeth would be a better example, but then again she's... the way she is. Not a lot of notable apostates outside of the Dalish, Avvar and Chasind who didn't come from the Circle.)

While a mage school would be great for those who seek it, its not needed. The Avvar mages do just fine. The Dalish mages are well-trained. Not sure about the Chasind, but I'm certain their mages do well too. Then there's Bethany and mage Hawke. They are not Circle mages.

Ah, but you forget. Bethany and Hawke aren't Circle mages, but they were trained by a Circle mage; their father trained them, and he learned at the Circle. The Avvar and Dalish mages do fine (not sure about the Chasind, if we got lore about that I don't remember it), but training their mages is pretty firmly hardwired into their cultures so finding a teacher isn't an issue for them. Some of the human nations of Thedas (most notably Tevinter, but also Rivain and to some extent Nevarra, although Nevarra I believe does send a good number of its mages to the Circles? I don't really remember offhand) do have systems in place for training mages outside of the Circles and to some extent outside of a formal school environment, but as things stand in large chunks of human society if you don't have the good fortune to have access to a trained mage (whatever system they learned from) who can then train you, it's the Circles or figuring it out on your own. Sure, an actual formal school isn't the be all and end all of learning how to do things and the Circles should absolutely be destroyed (both the institutions and possibly the actual physical buildings given all the Veil thinning that happens there), but other cultures with radically different approaches to magic and the teaching of mages doing fine (setting aside Chantry interference, of course) doesn't automatically mean that their system is the only one that's needed. An apprenticeship system isn't going to be viable for everyone; it works really well for groups like the Dalish and Avvar because they don't seem to generally keep more than a few young mages around and someone in their leadership is guaranteed to be a mage, meaning there will always be at least one magic teacher available. You can't guarantee that that'll always be the case. Basically we can't just say "Well there's no need for any sort of new arrangement because these groups manage just fine without it" for the same reason we can't just say "Well we can just shove all the baby mages into magic school and let their teachers sort it out": there's no "one size fits all" approach to teaching and learning, and every method has people it just won't work for.

[theluckywizard]

Hey Lucky, happy Friday! How about a prompt for Hawke and one of the twins for pre-Blight/DA2 shenanigans? "Grabbing their shoulder to stop them from doing something they would regret." Happy writing!

Thank you Ocean! This has been in my box since June! 👀 Here's a little Hawke Sibling Fluff for you this evening for @dadrunkwriting

Characters: Garrett Hawke, Bethany, Carver and Isabela WC: 486 Rating: Gen

oOo

Hawke extends both hands delicately to his sides and digs the toe of his boot into the dirt of the street.

Carver watches him from where he’s leaning against the railing as they wait for the next ferry back to Kirkwall’s docks, the stinking, cluttered water of the bay sloshing behind him. “What are you doing?” he asks, brotherly disgust hanging on his words.

Hawke smiles coyly at his brother behind him and then brushes away an imaginary bit of dust from his shoulder with his pinky. “What?” 

“That. Whatever you’re doing. Stop that.”

“Stop what?” asks Hawke, settling with his hip jutting to one side, his hand set upon it. Few things gave him greater joy than provoking his siblings.

Bethany stares, a veritable storm cloud brewing behind her tawny eyes. “I see it too.”

Finished with their business in the Gallows and more than a little entertained by his sister’s preening and posing before the newly minted Knight-Lieutenant Cullen, there was little option but to roast her for it. Even Hawke could admit the man was damnably handsome, but as one who would lock her in the clink at the first reasonable opportunity, the absurdity of it was unparalleled.

“That is not how I stand, Garrett,” protests Bethany, crossing her arms and settling with her hip to one side.

“Is there some way you stand?” he says, his composure failing. “I hadn’t noticed.” 

Unable to resist, Hawke flounces toward a merchant mixing up fresh shikanji for Templars in too much armor for this Justinian heat. He makes it approximately four steps before Carver arrests him by the shoulder. 

“Andraste’s tits, Gar, don’t be a moron. Like we need more attention on us while we’re here.”

“We can’t all be lumbering brutes, Pup,” calls Isabela from where she’s sitting in a sliver of shade against a crate. “Perhaps Hawke is trying to turn over a new leaf.”

Hawke waves off his little brother and carries on to the shop to buy drinks.

“I don’t walk like that either,” Bethany protests loudly.

“It’s fine, Bethany,” says Isabela. “He might have a veritable tiller up his backside but there’s no denying he’s hot.”

“Who?” demands Carver, his disgust with the whole affair plain.

“Knight-Lieutenant Stick-in-the-Arse,” explains Isabela.

Carver slumps as he turns to his sister, sky colored eyes indignant. “You can’t be serious, Beth,” he moans and then drops his voice to a hiss. “He’s a sodding Templar.”

“What!? I’m not anything! I wasn’t doing anything!” Bethany protests, the whole of her face betraying her.

“Well I think it’s sweet,” says Isabela, standing to collect a drink from Hawke, which he offers with a pinky extended.

“Eugch, don’t encourage her,” sulks Carver.

“You’re all mad. I’m just standing. And walking!”

“Yes like a little baby coquette,” Isabela smiles and then settles into one of Bethany’s darling, ridiculous poses. Hawke joins her. Bethany stares daggers at them both.