#but if i let him die. varric sad. AND FENRIS ALONE :((((((((((((

[kurp-stuff]

.

[justcallmecappy]

I just realized something, if an Anders-romanced Hawke gets left behind in the fade in DAI, the Inquisition can end up as another institution that took away someone he loves. The Circle and templars took away his family and his first love. The Wardens took away Ser-Pounce-a-Lot but I feel it's more like he was forced to give him away because the wardens cannot provide him anymore protection from the chantry and its templars. I know he'll never be alone since he has Justice with him and Hawke's mabari that keeps beating him at cards (pretty sure that Hawke left their dog to their respective LI while they're helping out the Inquisition), but the thought of him losing another person dear to him just breaks. While Varric's reaction to losing Hawke in DAI is already sad enough, I sometimes wonder how the other companions (especially the LI or sibling) would feel about their demise, I think I would be more devastated even if I am curious about their actual reactions. I feel like Anders will not handle the news very well and would resent the Inquisition for letting Hawke die.

Hawke being left in the Fade ?? ? 🙂 Whatever do you mean anon, Hawke is alive and well and living their best life with their bffs the Kirkwall Squad which obviously includes their favourite mage and bestest healer Anders, who is also alive and well, and is being loved and supported and validated ahahahah what Fade 🙂 I don't see no Fade 🙂 Fade never happened! It was all a dream~ 🙂

//curls up into a corner and ugly sobs 😭

Lol but in all seriousness, yes I agree with you anon, I think romanced!Anders would not take to news of Hawke dying (??) or being abandoned in the Fade very well. It would devastate him, and he would be just wracked with guilt ("I should have gone with them; I should have been there; If I had been there I could have helped; I could have taken Hawke's place") and possibly blaming himself ("If I wasn't on the run from the Chantry I could have helped Varric watch over Hawke").

I'm not sure what romanced!Anders would have done after receiving news that Hawke was lost to the Inquisition. Anders would have deeply resented the Inquisition, yes, and I'm sure after losing Karl, losing Hawke to a Chantry-led institution would have put him into a deep depression. At this point, I think it's absolutely crucial that his friends (Varric, Isabela, Merrill and Fenris, however you want to headcanon it, or his friends in the Wardens) check up on him and make sure he's alright (I'm not going to imagine otherwise -- Anders is cared for and beloved in all my world states lol ❤️).

But Anders is also a man of action and a problem-solver -- I'm thinking he wouldn't have let things lie as they are, and probably would have tried to find a solution once he understood the full context of Hawke's disappearance.

And out of all the companions, Anders could potentially have the most experience delving into the Fade (his Harrowing; the Blackmarsh in DAA; the Night Terrors quest in DA2 to rescue Feynriel), plus he has Justice as his in-built Spirit GPS, lol. He probably would have tried something to try and rescue Hawke from the Fade (although right now it's up to the realm of fanfiction to say whether or not he succeeds).

At the point of writing this response, I am not sure if DA4 will explore the fate of whoever was left in the Fade in DAI (whether its Hawke or Alistair/Loghain/Stroud), or if they are truly permanently dead. I have my own theories and suspicions but I'm just withholding them until the game is released (or possibly exploring them in fanfic heheh).

Thanks for the ask, anon! 😄

[lesetoilesfous]

Hi! How about a fenders is 64 from the kiss prompt list? 💕

Oh man anon this became SO much more sad than I’d planned, so fair warning for that. I hope, you enjoy?

(If you’d like me to write you a dragon age fic, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Fenders

Characters: Anders, Fenris

Tags: planned suicide / euthanasia, Anders answers the Calling, established relationship, angst

Rating: Mature

They’d planned this. They knew it was going to happen. They had known for years, had understood the vague presence of a threat they could no more easily escape than death itself. It was for this reason that Anders had never sworn any vows to him, unwilling to make an oath he could not keep. This was the tempest that Fenris had chosen to approach over a decade ago, and he could not claim now that he had been unprepared for the storm. 

They had planned tonight. Anders wanted to leave on his terms, before madness drove him to distraction and foiled any effort he might make at taking a swathe of the horde down with him. They had discussed it at length, and Fenris knew in his mind that this was what he wished for his lover. The wits to die on his terms. Standing. Fighting. 

Still.

Fenris had made dinner, and Anders baked desert. They’d broken out one of the last bottles of Aggregio Pavali that had survived the many years since Kirkwall, and a more recent gift of oak-aged Antivan Whiskey from Varric after that. Anders had hummed soft songs that he only half-remembered now, and lead Fenris in a waltz around their kitchen. They had embraced, and made love, and held one another. Anders had given Libertas a meal of boiled chicken and held her till he wept. Outside, Fidelis had whined on the porch, too intelligent for her own good and well aware that something was wrong with her masters.

Now, the traitorous arms of sleep are tugging at the back of Fenris’ head, trying to pull him toward an oblivion that for once he has no desire to fall into. Now he is awake, and Anders’ body is alive and warm in his arms. This will be his last chance to fall asleep beside his lover, and Fenris thinks, as he strokes over the rough scarred tissue of his back, that he cannot believe how much time he has wasted. That he cannot count how many times he had taken this for granted, and that he wants to go back and shake every iteration of his younger self for being so careless. To tell him that he does not know what this will feel like, when it is taken away.

So Fenris tightens his arms around Anders’ chest, forearms pressing into the soft mass of his belly, and presses slow kisses against his bare shoulders, feeling the tickle of his hair on his nose. Anders shivers, and turns over, looking up into his eyes as his fingers splay gently over Fenris’ cheek. “You need to sleep, love.”

He does. They had agreed. Both of them knew that Fenris could not, would not let Anders go consciously, no matter how many times they had discussed the logic of it. Anders would leave whilst he was sleeping. And when he woke up, he would be gone. He could not leave until Fenris slept. 

So Fenris could not sleep. 

Fenris shakes his head, and leans forward, pressing in for a deep, slow kiss, drinking in the breath of him through his nose and mouth, trying to savour some part of Anders that he might keep, after.

The touch of his lover’s magic is familiar, gentle and soothing as spring water. Tears sting Fenris’ cheeks as they fall. “Sleep, Fenris.” Anders murmurs against his lips. His forehead touches Fenris’, the dots of lyrium in Fenris’ skin there aching like an old bruise. “I love you.”

Fenris tries to say, “I love you, too,” but the sleep spell is already weighing on his tongue. With something like panic, he presses closer, squeezing his lover tighter in his arms as he kisses him again and shuts his eyes, trying to memorise this: the shape of him, the give of his lips and the line of his nose, the scratch of his beard and his scent, the ever-present cloy of elfroot and the acrid tang of lyrium. Fenris keeps kissing him, unable to open his eyes, not done yet - not finished learning his lover, a man whose pages he thought he had read a thousand times but now realises he’d barely begun at all. 

Fenris does not know when he falls asleep. But he is alone when he wakes, and the sunrise washes the ghost of their last kiss from his tongue. Fenris presses his fingers to his lips, anyway, as if he could hold the warmth of his lover there, like fire stolen from the sun.

[bitch-of-the-wilds]

Dragon Age 2: Abridged

You start the game and as you're running 🏃‍♂️💨 away from the Zombi- I mean Darkspawn, the very first thing that happens is one of your 2 younger siblings fucking dies. ⚰️💀🥀(RIP Carver)

Then there's a dragon 🐉 which is awesome! But also: fuck, there's a dragon and you're level 1. But wait, now the dragon's an old lady who you swear sounds familiar. 🧙‍♀️ But she won't teach you how to become a dragon, so who cares.

Anyway, your mother cradles your sibling's cooling corpse to her chest and blames you for their death because you're the oldest and (somehow⁉️) you were supposed to protect them from the massive 5-ton ogre and stop it from crushing their rib cage like a gerbil in the hands of a vindictive toddler. 🐹

It's mentioned in passing that "At least they're with father now," and oh, yeah, guess your dad is dead too.

Surprise! Welcome to Dragon Age: 2 -The game where the plot is made up and your feelings don't matter. 🎆🎇

After you finally escape the fuckin 🍭🔥Candy Land from Hell🔥🍭: you're sold into servitude (see also: slavery) to pay your way into the city because your drunkard of an uncle has gambled away every penny of wealth your family ever had, including the house (and the dog too, but don't worry, there's DLC for that 🐕)

Then, after a year of smuggling and/or shady mercenary work for the dickheads that hold your leash, you're still broker than a ramen-filled Millenial with an undergrad degree in psychology, so you have to go into the Deep Roads to find your fortune.

Do you take your only remaining sibling with you into one of the most dangerous places in Thedas? Or do you leave them in Kirkwall, an almost equally as dangerous place, without even little ole' you there to protect them or your aged, decrepit, spiteful mother (who still kinda hates you for letting your sibling die)?

📱VOTE NOW ON YOUR PHONES! 📱

The kicker is that NO MATTER WHICH CHOICE YOU MAKE, you still lose your sibling! They're taken by the Chantry, (the ⭕Circle/⛑️Templars) if you leave them at home, and if you take them with you, they fucking DIE.

Oh, UNLESS you brought that one edgy, possessed, fugitive Gray Warden you met in the ass end of Darktown with you. Then they don't die. Instead, they themselves are given to the Gray Wardens to try and save them from 🤎😩The Taint 😩🤎 who then disappear back into the Deep Roads for 3 fucking years. IN FACT you don't even know if your fucking sibling LIVES or DIES until Shit City winds up on fucking 🔥FIRE🔥 and they just happen to run into you while you're up to your tits in body organs.

And also that one edgy Gray Warden rebel, Anders -who you actually kinda like, even if he is a whiney bitch, happens to stay on with you because you helped him kill his ex boyfriend (*Micky Mouse voice* it's a special tool that will help us later!🎁)

Oh, and let's not forget that Grand Adventure where your ancient ass mom 🤶 is kidnapped by a Coo-Coo for Cocoa Puffs serial murderer and then canabalized into a semi-living sex doll 🧟‍♀️(that smells a bit like formaldehyde under the stench of rotting old lady flesh) just because she happens to look a little bit like the dude's dead FWB/wife. 👩‍❤️‍👨

So, when you finally fucking find her -buried under a cesspool of blood, shit and demons (where else?)- you obviously have to kill the dork-ass, serial-killing, LITERAL MOTHERFUCKER who took her.

But OOPS! His blood magic🩸 was the only thing keeping her build-a-bitch body alive, so naturally it disperses as he death-rattles on the floor.🤮

She only lives long enough to say her last regret is leaving you alone in 🗡️ Murder City™️ 🗡️ by yourself before she fucking DIES IN YOUR ARMS in front of your sad ass friends and probably your love interest.

Speaking of which, I hope you didn't dick-down the pirate 🏴‍☠️ then fuck around and find out you caught feelings and shit, cause she straight up leaves your ass to skip town on bail with a Super Special Book. 📖

And god forbid you romanced Fenris because his broody ass just ups and leaves you after a mediocre as fuck one night stand, leaving you with Lyium-blue balls. 🧪 Oh, did I mention that it took 3 fuckin YEARS of courting to get him to into bed? 🛌 But at least he stays with you, helping kill bitches and whatnot, casually twisting that little knife in your heart an inch at a time because he has enough emotional baggage 🎒👜🧳🛍️ to sink a fucking naval armada to the bottom of the Boeric ocean. 🆘⛵🛥️🛳️⛵🚢🛥️🆘

But the fun doesn't stop there! No, no! Because while you may have lost your entire family -i.e. your mother, father and both baby siblings- and potentially your love interest 💔 (You can keep your shitty drunken uncle tho lmfao), that doesn't matter cause we're not done with our field trip through hell just yet kiddies. 🚎 Beep beep, bitch.

So, what's next on 💥Apocalypse Bingo?💥 Oh, that's right, you gotta stop the invading force of massive roid-raging dragon-people with kick ass horns, and their leader just decapitated the king👑 in front of you.

Also they burned 🗑️Trash Town🗑️ to the ground and you have to pick of the pieces of your shitty city. Again.

And after you've done that, after you've done what all the king's horses 🐎🐎🐎 and all the king's men🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️ couldn't fucking do, you're awarded the title of Champion because no good deed goes unpunished!

Yay! You're the savior of Shit City! Hooray. 💩

✨🌟⭐ But wait! There's more! ⭐🌟✨

That one Glowy Red bitch you've seen around the Gallows when you're not ogling Cullen's noodle hair is pissy at Skeletor the Secret Blood Mage. Time to play peace keeper.

It doesn't go well. They're both still assholes. 🤷🤷‍♂️🤷‍♀️

Oh but, remember Anders? The edgy Gray Warden dude? The one who hears voices in his head, but swears it's just his 👻☄️Spirit Friend☄️👻 The one who you kinda like?

He needs to go grocery shopping. For... cookie ingredients. 🍪

Here's the list: 📜

-Mushrooms 🍄

-Literal, actual shit 💩

-Sulfur 💨

-Amonium Nitrate 🔥

-Other shit, this time metaphorical🚫💩

Okay, weird request, right? But he did help you kill some hoes and give you the map to the Deep Roads which may or may not have gotten your sibling killed, so you owe him one, right? And, well, maybe you kinda like this edgy weirdo who occasionally turns blue when he's mad 👺, so you're willing to do him a solid.

Well, turns out that trip to Kirkwalmart wasn't for ingredients to Anders' fav cookies.

It was actually

⚡💥💣☢️A FUCKIN NUKE☢️💣💥⚡

which he uses to blown up the church ⛪ which happens to be in the city 🌇 your pathetic ass spent 6 years Humpty Dumpty-ing🍳 killing a few hundred innocent people and probably at least one or two dogs🐶💀🐶 so either way he's a fuckin dildo.

Oh, and that kicks off World War Thedas, and the FBI 🚔 thinks you're responsible, so you have to leave your Shit City and lay low.

But you got to meet Varric so it was worth it. 👍

Probably.

[musetta3]

For the hug prompts: please give Fenris a cuddle pile! ^.^

Hi @ellie-effie! One Fenris cuddle pile, coming up! <3 <3 The poem Fenris reads is an actual poem found in The Noladar Anthology of Dwarven Poetry . 

Hug Prompts

Fenris perched on the edge of his nephew’s narrow bed, book in hand. He and his nephew read together every night, just not with such an…audience. He raised his eyebrow.

“Are you settled?” He asked. Five stuffed animals stared at him at their places around the pillows. “And all your little ‘friends?’”

“They have names,” Leto protested. He pointed to a stuffed griffon. “That’s Ani, and there’s Cassius, Craugis, Zephyr—”

“Well. Tell Zephy and Weffy or whoever they are that they’re rather uncomfortable.” He pulled a stuffed rabbit from behind his sore back. “No wonder.”

“Uncle!” The boy tugged on his sleeve, impatient. Fenris sighed, turning to where they’d left off. “‘A poem by Paragon Seuss,’” he began. “‘Do you like fried mush and nug?

I do not like them, Mister Klug,

I do not like fried mush and nug.

Would you eat them on a rug?

If you eat, you'll get a hug!’” He narrowed his eyes at the book before him. He could feel his brain rotting, reading this ridiculous drivel.

“Keep going, Uncle, with the funny voices. Please?” He shot his nephew a look of desperation before clearing his throat and squeaking in a falsetto.

“‘I would not eat them on a rug,

From you I would not want a hug.’ This is horrible. Can’t we skip it?”

“Uncle!” Fenris mimicked his whine with a laugh.

“Leto!”

“Finish the story, please.”

“You mean this inane drivel? Never.” He tossed the volume across the room with a smirk. “‘I will not read that stupid book,

I won’t give it a second look,

That poetry is very bad,

it makes your uncle very sad.’ A poem by Fenris El-Khoury, 9:37 Dragon.” His joke fell on deaf ears, it seemed; his nephew pouted quite pitifully. Fenris sighed.

“There are much better stories than that, like… the time I slayed a dragon with your Uncle Varric in the Deep Roads. Wouldn’t that be much more interesting than nugs on rugs?”

One good thing about Varania having a son instead of a daughter, was that Leto was very predictable in his preferences. The boy bounced in place on the mattress, wide-eyed. The stuffed animals toppled over.

“Uncle! Did you really slay a dragon? Like the Hero of Ferelden?”

Fenris laughed. “Several, in fact. Two in the Deep Roads, and a giant one,” he leaned in with a growl, “at the Bone Pit outside Kirkwall.” Leto squealed in delight.

“What is going on in there?” Varania asked, knocking on the bedroom door before she stuck her head in. “I thought you were reading?”

“Uncle sat on Zephyr and he threw the book across the room—”

“What?”

“And he’s going to tell a story about slaying a dragon with Uncle Varric—”

“What?” She made to enter, nearly tripping on the dogs as they squirmed through the ajar door and jumped on the bed, much to Leto’s delight and Varania’s dismay.

“Shoo!” she cried. “Get off!”

Fenris sighed. “They just had a bath.” He ruffled the dogs’s still damp coats.

She huffed. “They smell like wet dogs.”

“Damp dogs; there’s a difference.” His sister sat on the other side of him, effectively sandwiching him between his nephew, his toys, and the dogs. His eyes went wide, he reflexively tensed from the contact.

“I’m very curious about this dragon,” Varania said, failing miserably at hiding her laughter. “Must’ve been terrifying, if you’re frightened just thinking about it.” He gave her a dirty look.

“I am not afraid—”

“Don’t frown so; your face will stay that way.”

He stifled the eye roll. “Venhedis—”

“Uncle!” Leto tugged his sleeve impatiently. Fenris cleared his throat, absently scratching behind a dog’s ear.

“Your Uncle’s book told of the frost dragon we encountered in the Deep Roads; what he didn’t mention was the dragon had a mate…and it was very angry.”

He focused mainly on the action and setting, glossing over the gory bits for the boy’s sake. He told of the great cavern—as large as their house—and of the grand staircase beyond, leading to their freedom. Of their desperate fight towards the stairs; how one by one, they fell to their knees in exhaustion. And just when they thought all was lost—the ground shook. The dragon had found its mate, and its roar was so furious, even the very air trembled.

A weight fell against his ribs. Leto leaned against him, enraptured by the tale, green eyes impossibly large. Fenris wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulders and gave a reassuring squeeze before continuing, stealing a glance at his sister. She smiled back with an encouraging nod.

“The dragon charged me, teeth snapping and its talons swiping. The others had, by then, fallen in battle; I was completely and utterly alone. Wounded and exhausted, I hung over my sword, catching my breath. If I ever wanted to get out alive, I had to press on. But it hurt to breathe, let along fight, how would I ever accomplish it? I thought of the others, of Hawke and her sister, of your Uncle Varric, and I knew; I could not let them die. I gripped the hilt of my sword, listening. Swing too early, I wouldn’t have time to recover. Swing too late, and I would be dead. Just when the dragon was almost upon me—”

Leto’s head lolled onto his arm. Fenris gently righted it so it leaned against his side. “I swung with all my might, and the dragon fell with a shriek, a finger’s length away from me.”  

A comfortable silence fell on the room, one that Fenris etched into his heart, for this wasn’t just a silence. This was the sound of safety. Of home. Of gratitude, as he held his family close, the family he thought he’d never have. His sister leaned her head on his shoulder.

“You were right, little brother,” she said quietly, “that was infinitely better than Paragon Seuss.”

[midnightprelude]

“Don’t ever be afraid to cry in front of me, okay?” For DWC Welcome to the writing Circle!

Thank you so much for the @dadrunkwriting​ prompt! I did a little Varric & Hawke friendship scene and some FenHawke sadness.

“Well, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but you look like shit that’s been sitting on a swine herder’s boots for about three weeks before being scraped off and used for fertilizer.” Varric placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Hawke didn’t move, his hand wrapped around what had been a full flagon of ale, face down on the table. He guessed it hadn’t been his first drink of the evening.

“I was afraid I’d find you here,” Varric continued, undeterred by the silence. “At least you’re predictable, if nothing else.”

Hawke really did look awful. It was clear he had stopped bathing several weeks ago, his hair coated in a thick layer of grime. He was starting to smell, and not of roses. Varric tried to breathe through his mouth. Even his coat felt filthy, with his hand pressed against the cloth, he could feel that it had hardened slightly from the sweat and mud. He hadn’t seen Hawke neglect his appearance so severely since they had first met and the man was leaving his year of servitude to a mercenary band, long before he’d come into his fortune.

He had found him in the Herald’s Rest, alone just as he had feared, after Varric had made the mistake of giving him a letter from Fenris and allowing him to read it alone. He had not known what the letter contained, though he should have guessed at the idea, if not the exact wording.

They had just returned from Adamant, still reeling from their lovely little vacation in the Fade. The one where his best friend had tried to sacrifice himself to cover the group’s escape from the Nightmare demon. An aptly named monster, if there ever was one. Varric had told Fenris that Hawke lived, because he thought someone should. Even if Hawke has hardly mentioned the man since he came to Skyhold. Even if he pretends that nothing had happened between them.

He leaned in close, against the will of his protesting nose. “Hawke. I am not leaving without speaking with you.”

With that, Hawke finally stirred. His eyes were unmistakably red, his face pale. “You told him.”

Varric nodded, frowning deeply. “He has a right to know.”

“I should’ve been the one to tell him.” Hawke grumbled, words slurring slightly.

Varric sighed, pulling a chair up to the table and sitting on it backwards, facing his friend. “You’ve done such a great job of that in the past. Have you even written him at all since you’ve been here?”

“No. I told you. We can’t be together. I’m a fugitive and he’s…” Hawke stalled, grasping for words.

Varric nodded. “You’re a fugitive and he loves you. A tragic tale. You gave him up, gave up your own happiness, gave up the life you could have had together for what? Another opportunity to try and get yourself killed? Hawke, I’m terrified for you. You’ve shown so little regard for the value of your own life.”

“How many people have died because I didn’t stop Anders when I could have? I’ve taken far more than I’ve given. If you’d have allowed me to save you all instead of Stroud… At least I could have evened the scales a bit.” Hawke motioned the bartender over for another drink, but Varric quickly waved him away.

Varric shook his head. “Self-loathing has never looked good on you, my friend.”

“Did you just come here to read the letter?” Hawke pulled the parchment from his breast pocket, extending it to Varric. It was wet with something, he could tell the ink had run just by looking at the outside of the letter.

“I know it may be a great surprise for you, but I care more about you than gossip. But if you’d have me read it, I won’t say no.”

He took the letter from Hawke’s outstretched hand, unfolding it slowly so as not to damage the delicate paper.

Hawke,

I’ll have you know that I needed to seek out Merrill’s help to draft this letter. She was delighted and kept asking after you. I only told her that you were alive. She is concerned.

Varric told me what you tried to do. I do not wish for you to end up a martyr. I respect your decision to end our relationship, though I think it has more to do with your desire to demolish any chance of your own happiness more than your dissatisfaction with me. I hope I do not overstep in saying so.

If you wish to die for some cause you deem just, I would do so by your side, if you would only let me.

Being alone was your choice, but it does not need to end that way.

-Fenris

When he looked up, Varric saw that Hawke’s eyes were beginning to brim with tears. The other man turned away, facing the wall, running away from the comfort of a friend yet again.

Varric sighed and did his best to wrap his arms around Hawke’s massive shoulders. “You don’t need to worry about crying in front of me, Hawke. We’ve been to the belly of the earth and hell and back. I think I can handle a few tears.”

Hawke nodded, turning back to face his friend. “Being with him will only hurt him in the end.”

“Don’t you think you should let him make that choice?”

[enchantment1385]

🐉 Age Questions

I was tagged by the very lovely, @nerdierholler to give up some of my darkest gaming secrets... Yaaay! Thank you, darling XD 

1. Favourite game of the series? Wow... Not pulling any punches, are we? Honestly, they all have things I adore and all have things I dislike. I’ve played DAO more than the others, but that’s because it’s the oldest of them all. I love the camp mechanic and just how in depth Origins is, but the combat is... dated? Da2 has Hawke, which for me is a winner in itself.  And DAI has so many wonderful characters.  

2. How did you discover 🐉 Age? I honestly can not even remember at this point! I remember playing DAO when it was quite ‘new’. I remember dying, aaannnnd then i didn’t play it again until someone showed me how amazing DAI looked. So, I bought it and then got back into them all in a big way, and destroyed my life in doing so! 

3. How many times have you’ve played the games?  Ahahahahaha... Umm... I don’t know..?  Let’s put it this way, on my laptop alone (as in ALL my console hours, which is a whole lot, not counted.) I have clocked up over 1200 hours on DAO, 720 on DA2, and 1250 on DAI... So, yes. Now you all know how very sad I am... 

4. Favourite race to play as? Dwarfs, they hands down have the BEST and funniest dialog options.

5. Favourite class? DAO; Dual wield rogue  DAI & DA2; Mage. Oh, so many mages...

6. Do you play through the games differently or do you make the same decisions each time? I kinda vary it, but not as much as I sometimes want to. I’ve never done a pure ‘asshole’ playthrough, even though sometimes I would like to see how it ends up. I blame Bioware for making the NPC’s likeable.

7. Go-to adventuring group? DAI: Alistair, Zevran, Shale. DA2: Varric, Fenris/Carver, Anders. DAI: Varric, Dorian, and random. My 3rd spot always changes so I can hear as much awesome dialog as possible. 

8. Which of your characters did you put the most thought into?

This poor sod...  Viridis - My DAO dalish elf is a close second, but she’s dead, so her struggle is over, and she went out a hero. Poor Faeron suffers every. single. day. And still finds some reason to try and smile. 

9. Favourite romance? Alistair. But that is helped hugely thanks to cute (and not so cute) mods.  This is actually hard because, Although I like to romance certain people more than others, that isn’t me saying that their romance is my favourite.  I mean, I freakin’ love Dorian, but out of all the romances I feel his was done really well, but... A little quick compared to others which had a nicer, spread over time, thing, going on. 

10. Have you read any of the comics/📚? I read one... But that was a long while ago now.  It was good! They’re just pretty pricey and very rarely on sale. 

11. If you read them, which was your favourite 📓? The one I read? 

12. Favourite DLCs? All are acceptable answers, bar trespasser. - I don’t care what you say, I know it was amazing. I know it was stunning. I know it answered a lot of questions and set up DA4 in a great way and such - BUT

This. This is too much. HE’S ALREADY LOST HIS LOVER - AND THEN THE AVERAGE, BALD, WOLF, WHO STOLE FAERON’S ARMOUR BTW, THEN RIPS HIS SODDING ARM OFF?! 

FUCK YOU, BIOWARE.

13. Things that annoy you? Invisible walls. Boundaries and made to be broken!  And doors in DAI. I am always getting stuck behind one instead of running through the doorway. Please tell me it’s not just me?! I miss the doors of DAO and DA2. I am willing to sacrifice immersion on that one small point, I just want to get through the doorway, please. 

14. Orlais or Ferelden? Who in the shit picks Orlais? For Ferelden!! 

15. Templar's or Mages? Mages. Especially as i’m playing one 95% of the time.

16. If you have multiple characters, are they in different/parallel universes or in the same one? Depends.  Jereth, Xander, Tobias, and Faeron & Nico, are all from the same timeline, and my ‘canon’ run if you like. Xander also has a sister (other than Bethany) who is from the same time, but also has her own separate parallel play-through.  I mix and match backgrounds. 

17. What did you name your pets? (mabari, summoned animals, mounts, etc.) Jereth called his mabari, Captain blightballs, because he is forever 12, and thinks it’s funny. Xander’s mabari was named Wrex, as in Wrex from Mass Effect.  Faeron’s Halla is named Ghilas, which is elven for ‘to go’.  Nico’s horse (yes a horse and NOT a halla) is called stormy, which is a RP in joke.

18. Have you installed any mods? Oh hell yes! Many, many mods. Gods bless you mod makers! You guys make everything so much better! And I say this as someone who has played all the games, many times, totally un-modded.  Lots of better textures for CC, gameplay changes, cheats. You name it! It’s not like I don’t know the base game at this point. 

19. Did your Warden want to become a Grey Warden?       Yes, and no.  Did Jereth want to get out of the circle, and possibly being made tranquil? Oh yes! Yes indeed. However, did he want to drink blood cocktails, watch his bromies die, and actually have to do stuff?  Not so much. 

20. Hawke’s personality? Purple. They always all end up as purple... Or at least, varying degrees. I can’t not.  Xander is 100% purple, bar maybe 4 occasions in the whole game. 

21. Did you make matching armour for your companions in Inquisition? Heh... I have TWINS. I had to try and remember who was wearing what, and which parts were dyed, and then make two sets... Utter nightmare. 

22. If your character(s) could go back in time to change one thing, what would they change? Jereth wouldn’t change anything, because he isn’t that wise. Plus, in his mind he ended up coming out ahead.  Xander would have tried to save Bethany and paid more attention to his mother. He’d just try and be more responsible, I guess, but probably end up failing and just being the same smartass as ever.  Faeron... My poor boy... Faeron would do it all differently if he could. I think, if he could change one thing, he’d have let Morrigan drink from the pool. Having yet MORE voices in his head was the last thing he needed, not to mention a constant reminder of who Mythal really is...  Nico wouldn’t let Dorian get close enough to Faeron for the relationship to start in the first place. It was was a big enough thing for her to accept it in the first place... But when he decided to leave, and said Faeron couldn’t go with him... Nico didn’t take kindly to it. 

23. Do you have any headcanons about your character(s) that go against canon?  Twins? Someone dating Varric? The fact that Hawke, Amell & Alistair are all alive?? Sorry Stroud. (not sorry) Yeah... I substitute that bit... You know all those pictures of Hawke or Alistair’s LI waiting on them? Well, I just can’t ever kill Alistair and leave poor Jereth holding some wilting daisies, pouting. I mean... Who would put up with him full time?? Leliana?? I think not! 

24. Are any of your character(s) based on someone? Yeah, me. All of them. Well, mostly. Tobias for example is nothing like me in any sense. But Jereth, Xander (& his sister Lola), Faeron and Nico are all some part of me. Some of my other wardens and Hawke’s too. 

25. Who did you leave in the Fade? Sorry again Stroud. (Still really not sorry...) 

26. Favourite mount? Faeron on his Halla is definitely most epic... But the Hart sound... It’s like having PTSD, I’m forever on edge and thinking ‘Don’t stop suddenly... DON’T stop suddenly...’  I did get this awesome Dracolisk mod which made them look like Maleficent’s dragon, which was so good for my qunari mage. 

Tagging: @heraldofwho @tessa1972 @keeperscompanionsdai @ielmoe @shannaraisles @dreadhobo @gugle1980 @inquisitorsmabari @sassylavellen @dickeybbqpit @dalish-ish @john-cousland @long-liv-prairies

[a-shakespearean-in-paris]

Stains

An art trade @ladylilac and I partook in! This is my half, a piece featuring her Maéva Hawke and Fenris. I hope you enjoy! 

Things changed, as time went on. Laugh lines around his eyes became more pronounced, while lines engraved from her own hardships became more apparent. Inward things changed as well. Perhaps it was odd that as he learned to let himself be loved, she retreated into a shell, though the people she closed herself away from weren’t him. Never him.

Yet however small, it was nice to know that some things never changed. Even if it was a silly thing, it was nice to know. Comforting, like the tube of lipstick she carried in her pocket.

Red lips, crimson colored and vibrant against her fair skin had always been the constant thing in her life, and the one thing she always indulged in. Even when they lived with Gamlen and they struggled to even put food on the table, Maéva put a bit of money away to have her crimson lips. Even now, on the run with him, she kept a few spare tubes of lipstick. It was her signature, Isabela told her once, and Varric tucked in the idiosyncrasy in The Tale of the Champion along with so many others. She couldn’t not have her signature or her small idiosyncrasy. Besides, there were so many memories with it. The first night  Maéva and Fenris were together, her lips left stains on the skin between his tattoos, making red marks. She gave him her favor after, her red scarf, and he said that it reminded him of her lips and the things that they could do to him. They were so young back then, sharing their first night together. They made sure to make up for all the times he wasn’t there, and she was alone in her room, wishing to stain him.

Yes, some things never changed. :ike her silly red lipstick and the marks it made on her lover, marks different from his lyrium tattoos because they were marks and stains of her love. Yet not everything could stay the same in her life. Some things happened in cycles.

And now, instead of him whispering I’m sorry, all I wanted was to be happy, and leaving her, she was standing on a cliff’s edge, trying to find a way to tell him that she would have to leave him.

He was the one that kept her from the conclave. Varric too. She couldn’t pretend she wasn’t grateful for that. Yet back then they never suspected Corypheus, not after everything that they went through to make sure he wasn’t breathing at the end of their encounter. Something burned inside of her when she read Varric’s letter the previous day, something that didn’t stop. She knew it then. She had to go. She tried to find a way to tell him ever since.

Running, running. That was another thing that stayed the same in her life. She always ran. In the months that followed the battle of Kirkwall she ran away from the city, Fenris running with her.  Standing in the aftermath of battle, he promised he would run anywhere with her.  So run they did, out of the city through the Free Marches. So many places. The forest, the city, now to Lindvale, by the sea. They were there for a while, and that’s where Varric knew the two of them were. Perhaps if they ran again she wouldn’t have received his letter, but Maéva was tired of running. The sea too was welcome, along with the salty air and wind that made her strands of long, raven black hair dance. They made a camp on the beach the day she received the letter, and that night in the tent the waves lulled Fenris to sleep. They lapped onto the shore in tandem with her beating heart. They didn’t make love that night. Part of her wished they did. She would have held onto it, made it last. One last night, where he made love and lost himself in her body without knowing he would have to let her go. If she had that to hold, she could have run swiftly toward the Inquisition. How swiftly could she run now?

They watched the sunset in a comfortable silence, Maéva knowing he sensed her melancholy. It wasn’t unusual for her to be melancholic. It came in waves. Sometimes the tides were low and soft, mimicking the ebb and flow of the waters they stared at together as night beckoned a new day was on the horizon. Other times her melancholy took on a violent storm. There was no mercy in those moments. Yet in all of them, Fenris was always there, holding her hand, stroking her hair, kissing her. And as his fingers wove through her hair, her back against his front, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and her secret spilled forth. The Inquisition needed her.

She couldn’t see his face, but she could feel him tense. “Cruel,” he murmured simply, holding her closer and resting his chin on her shoulder. “You cannot go through this. Not again. I will not allow it.”

“Corypheus is my responsibility,” she said.

She felt him shake his head. “Ours.”

She had to tell him now, didn’t she? To him it was already a given he would go with her. He could not see a world where he would not go with her.

She told him.

The gentle motions of his fingers weaving through her hair ceased. Slowly Maéva turned around, hoping she would look into his eyes and see that he understood. Yet when she looked, she wasn’t sure what she saw in his sad green eyes. Was it pain? A deep anguish? Anger? Everything?

“I can’t lose you,” she said, imploring him to see her reasoning. “I won’t lose you.”

“And what of me? What if I lose you?”

She couldn’t answer that.

The waves crashed, no longer a gentle ebb against the shore. If there were spirits of the sea, and perhaps there were, they must have sensed the growing storm within the rain that began between the two of them. Soft pattering, yet incessant. Melancholic.

She grabbed his hand, brought it to her beating heart. “Trust me,” she beseeched him. “Fenris, I—"

“I do trust you,” he insisted. “More than anything. Anyone. That’s why—"

“What?” She cupped his face in her hands. “What?”

“I thought this would be the end. We would be happy.”

“We will be,” she said, “I promise. After this is over. We will be happy together.”

“We can be happy now. Take me with you.”

She clenched her eyes shut. Looking at him—it would be too much. “I can’t,” she said, her voice cracking. “Fenris I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I will not have you die. I cannot watch you die.”

He didn’t respond.

She sighed, taking his hand. The red scarf was tied snugly on his wrist. She kissed him there, kissed his palm. He purred her name, part in adoration for what she was doing, but mostly because he still sat at the edge of the cliff, begging her not to fall into the water and drift away from him.

“Do you not trust me?” she asked him suddenly.

Just as swift came his response. “Of course I trust you,”

“And I am asking you to trust me now. I have to do this by myself. I know you. You would kill yourself to protect me. And if something happened to you because of me…”

“I told you. Nothing is going to keep me from you.”

“But we don’t know what will happen when I leave.”

“Don’t.”

She wanted to agree with him, say she wouldn’t go. So much. She wanted to do what she had always done, run.

She knew she couldn’t.

“No,” she said. “I’ve run all my life. I cannot run from this, not when I know I can help.”

“Look what they’ve done to you. Look at what they’ve taken from you.”

His words cut her deeper than any blade. The Blight took away Bethany. The Grey Wardens took away Carver. Her mother was taken away, and it all finished with a crescendo with the battle of Kirkwall, taking away everything. Yet what remained unsaid and unknown was what would be taken from her if she went to the Inquisition. So help her, it would not be Fenris. It was the one thing she would never, ever allow.

She looked into his eyes, still afraid of what she would see, but not wanting to be a coward any longer. She saw understanding, yet a heart that was still shattering. Like it shattered that night he left her. Fate, circumstance, and his own self did the shattering that night. This time, it was all her. She would take the blame. She would do it, because she couldn’t protect Bethany, or Carver, or her mother. But she could protect Fenris.

He nodded, though he still did not fully accept. Merely, he nodded because he knew and understood. It was one of the many reasons she loved him.

They gravitated towards each other, his lips ghosting over her hers in not quite kisses. She breathed in his scent, the smell of leather mingled with the salty sea air that clung to him, all underlain with the subtle smell of steely lyrium that was so cruelly engraved into his skin. It didn’t hit her that this could be their last time, at least for a little while. It was like any other time she was with him at first, times when their differences didn’t matter and their hearts beat together. He could always do that to her. Yet when she heard him whisper it, his desperate, imploring, come back, she remembered.  

Silent tears she didn’t know she had streamed down her cheeks. “I’ll come back,” she murmured. “No matter what it takes, I will come back. That thing will not have me.”

“Do you promise?”

He wiped the tears away. “Do you trust me?” she asked.

“You know. More than anything.”

“Then you know the answer. I will. I will.”

“I—”

Words of reassurances he wanted her to give him turned into reassuring kisses. Perhaps even more so they were more fitting than words. They learned how to love, trust, and listen to each other with time, but before it wasn’t always like that, so seamless. Their rocky start lent itself to words being fruitless sometimes, and during their first night together, they learned that their actions could say more than words ever could. The way they touched and made love to each other succeeded where words were meaningless. Making love, that was were everything melted away, save for raw want and need. Passion. When everything else was stripped away save skin, lust and desire, that was when the truth became revealed.

He was her truth. Her love for him, more tangible than her magic, stronger than the waves that crashed against the shore. It was another constant she realized. No matter what happened in the Inquisition, he would always be her truth.

Time and togetherness made them attuned to each other’s feelings, and their wants. Simultaneously the want and the need for each other coiled, so they migrated from the harsh wind outside to the comfort of their tent. Would it be how he wished her farewell? To make love to her while the waves lapped onto the shore? She wanted it to be happy and joyous, wanted him to love and worship her the way he usually did. She didn’t want their last time, at least for a little while, she had to remind herself, to be awash in sorrow and regret. She hoped for soft kisses and murmurs of love like during their times of playful ardor together. She wanted passion and forgetfulness. Fenris gave her something else.

Passion was still there, but when Maéva helped him remove her clothes, his own tunic and breeches falling in the same pile, there was a notion of the here and now. Nothing else mattered save what was happening between them now. There was no past, present, nor future. Only this night. It was the only night of his existence. For her, it was the only night she would ever hold onto. All the others, they would blur together into one singular day. She would commit every step of the night to her memory, so she may relive every step. No matter what the Inquisition took away, it would not take away her moments with him. It would not take him away.

They laid on their sides, no clothes separating their naked skins. The only thing he wore was her red scarf. He slowly skimmed his hand down the line of her body, gripping her hips, her thigh, everything. He cupped her cheek in his hand, caressed her. Her world was the green of his eyes staring into hers. It shifted when he inched closer, changing to a whirling of gentle presses of his lips on every part of her skin he could reach. He kissed her, and she opened her eyes. There it was, that familiar residue of red on his lips he often received when their lips met. It made her giggle. He was marked by her kisses.

She rotated the two of them, so she may kiss a line down body, and love him the way he always deserved. It was selfish too, she knew that, but she needed to allow every dip and sinew of his body to burn in her memory. She needed to remember so she may play the memory in her mind, when she was far from him. His tattoos glowed faintly in the darkness. She littered every part of his skin with her lips, leaving marks of red here and there. She stained him, mirroring what he had done to her. His love stained her, changed her, and no matter where she would go, she would cling to that. It would be the only thing that made her  Maéva.

“Is this…your goodbye?”

She looked at him, her ministrations temporarily stopping. “No,” she said. “It’s my I love you.”

His I love you too was laying her back down, sliding inside her. He remained like that for a while, neither moving nor kissing, only gazing into her eyes, before his fingers drew circles at her clit. She came with him still inside, and it was only with the last ebb of her orgasm did he begin to move. She threw a calf over his shoulder, deepening their connection. He felt good and familiar. He felt like home.

Home.

Where would she have home, when she was away from him?

He grasped her hips. “Maéva..”

“Fenris….”

“Stay.”

Tears stung her eyes, tears she wiped away. “I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I will not run.”

He closed his eyes, stopping his movements temporarily to rest his body atop hers. When still he did not move, she held him, kissed his forehead.

“I’ll come back,” she promised. “If I have to tell you a thousand times, I will. I will come back.”

“One more day.”

One more day would turn into two more days. Then another two. “Fenris, I—”

Waves of sorrow were engrained in his eyes. “I know.”

“The same stars,” she muttered. “The same sun. We’ll be under the same sky.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He made those last few moments last. He made her come again and she saw the world alter, saw the life they would live together after. No more running. She would be free. They would be free.

Stains. They were everywhere on her and him. They stained each other with marks and kisses, and she hoped that when she was far from him, they all could see how she loved, and who she loved.She would not lose that love, not allow the stain to fade.

The morning came. She couldn’t remember sleeping, just laying with him, listening to his heart and watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. But cruelly the morning came, and never did she hate the sun more. It would have been easy and cowardly to leave him before he woke. Goodbyes were always too difficult for her. He didn’t deserve that. So she waited.

There were no words in the morning when he woke, only kisses. His body was still stained, here and there with red. Soon they would fade. But they marked deeper than the skin, she knew the stains marked into his soul, to always remain. No matter what happened.

“Don’t leave,” he begged, after their final kiss. She couldn’t kiss him again after. One kiss and she would do anything he asked. So she squeezed his hand, told him she carried his kisses like stains that burned to her very core. They made her stronger.

He watched her go. She felt his eyes on her still as she left for Ferelden, back home. Yet it wasn’t home, was it? Not without Fenris.

She went about the motions of duty.The vibrant crimson of her lips faded, and she could not renew it. She left the rest of it with him. Maybe he toyed with the various tubes she left behind in his fingers, the silly thing bringing him comfort. It brought her comfort to think about home a lot, and how the stains of him didn’t fade.

All her life she ran. She wouldn’t run from the Inquisition.

When it was over, she wouldn’t run back to Fenris. She would swiftly walk into her future with him. And she would never look back.

Wow that was emotional to write. Thank you for reading, please consider reblogging if you liked it :) And also you should totally follow the lovely @ladylilac, she’s a talented artist and super sweet! :)

[lypreila]

I will not say; Do not weep

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Fenris x F!Hawke

She burns Sage, and the nightmares don’t go away. She wards her room, and still they slip in. She downs sleeping draughts, prepared by a sympathetic Anders, and all it accomplishes is to leave her stranded, unable to wake as her mother's corpse jerks upright, shambles forwards.  She gives herself over to fighting, patrolling the streets with Aveline, and Varric, from whom she can not hide that something is wrong. But there are no tears.

Days spent gardening with Merrill, hands dug into the stubborn alienage dirt, coaxing flowers and vegetables forth so there will be food for the hungry, beauty for the weary. The elves of Kirkwall come to know and accept her, ‘Not just a friend to the Shems’ they whisper, and gift her flowers to cheer the estate. Never, of course, white lilies. Occasional nights spent in Isabela’s bed, rarely for sex, mostly for the comfort of another person there, arms ready to hold and soothe.  Isabela, Hawke comes to learn, knows nightmares well. They are old friends, she says.

“It’s ok.   Cry if you need to. Scream if you want. I understand. I’m right here, Hawke.”

The tears and screams stay locked inside. She convinces herself she doesn’t need them.

She doesn’t avoid Fenris, not exactly. He’d come to comfort her, and it was appreciated, but it was difficult enough to deal with the conflicting storm of emotions that losing Leandra had brought about. She didn't have the energy to wonder about him, about her, about them.  Her heart aches for what could have been, but she tries to give him the space he needs. ‘Maybe… one day.’ she thinks to herself.

Grief, as immediate and painful as it is, has a way of fading, and though the nightmares don’t leave, they take on a monotonous familiarity that she can almost live with.  Eventually some of the joy begins to return to her. She laughs at one of Varric’s jokes. She braids the flowers sown by her own hands into the hair of a young elven boy, humming a tune that sounds sad, but with a happy smile as her deft fingers work through coppery locks.  She watches others die, Seamus in his father's arms, broken and bloody, and inwardly she weeps for his loss. Outwardly she lets slip a curse that makes Sebastian blush, stutter, and protest her rude mouth in front of the Grand Cleric. She lets him know, in no uncertain terms, that she doesn’t care one whit about Elthina’s sensitive disposition.  She begins to feel normal again, and hates herself for it.

Some of her calm bravado is back by the time she stands in front of the Arishok.  Fenris is talking to the Qunari, stance firm, his sonorous voice unheard to her. Seeing Carver had been a balm to her soul, even for those brief, blood soaked minutes. He has stuck with Stroud, a hurried word tells her that Kalazar is far away, in Tevinter, and She can tell that Carver is as glad of it as herself.  

Fenris is looking dismayed, and Isabela horrified, but in the moment Hawke doesn’t care.  Her ears are filled with the sounds of the whimpers and screams, the explosions and clash of swords that are only dimly muffled by the walls of the keep, and she is eager to lose herself in the dance of battle.  She eyes the Qunari soldiers. A few spells, and they could end this. Her grip tightens on her staff.

“A duel.”

Fenris grabs her by a shoulder, grip tight, eyes burning.

“You must fight him alone,” he whispers, and then recoils when her smile only widens.  A gentle hand pushes him away. She strides forward, cold gathering in the tips of her fingers, staff slowly twirling.  She can do this. She must do this, to save those she can, to apologize to those she couldn’t. Hawke screams a desperate battle cry, and throws a spray of freezing ice at the Arishok’s feet.  

When the sword pierces her, she finds it odd that, rather than a burning pain, she feels a cold, spreading numbness.  There isn’t time for much more than that, and she lays one hand on his face as he lifts her, still impaled, overhead. A shard of ice pierces his brain, and they fall in an inelegant tangle of staff, limbs, sword, and horns. In the dead silence that follows her head lolls to one side, and there she is.  Leandra standing in the crowd, nodding, eyes tight with worry but chin lifted in pride.

The tears and screams finally come, but are lost in a crescendo of noise that rises up from around her.  She is still screaming as Fenris gathers her into his arms, ignoring Anders protests, and flees towards Avelines quarters.  She tries to reach out to her mother, but the world goes dark.

She awakens at home, in her own bed, and they are all there. Her friends, her family, Orana with a mild broth to help her regain strength.  Merrill is busy stocking every free inch of space with the flowers that pour in from everywhere. Her favorite bouquet comes from the alienage, stocked not just with beautiful flowers, but ones that will be useful even after they wilt, with leaves that can be dried and crushed into healing poultices. Anders, who looks as though he hasn’t slept in weeks, is overjoyed. There are herbs as well, and beads, and a small Mabari carved with enough detail so that she could see a specific pattern of Kaddis.  Sandal with a rune he presses excitedly into her hand. “Enchantment.” She squeezes the boys hand in gratitude. Aveline is in and out, and Isabela is there, though tense, and Hawke can’t seem to stay awake long enough to talk to her. Varric reads to her. Sebastian prays, and is understanding when she tells him that she can’t. Not right now. Maybe not ever again. Both Meredith and Orsinio attempt to visit, but Bodahn sends them away, polite but firm.

Only Fenris is missing.  Each time she wakes, she searches for him, disused voice croaking out his name. Orana dabs beeswax onto her chapped lips, tells her that he was downstairs, or helping Aveline with clean up. One time she tells Hawke that he’d stayed the night, but left early that morning.  Hawke barks a hoarse laugh, the stitches in her wound straining and aching.

“What else is new" she mutters before drifting off again.

Then, finally, she wakes once in the middle of the night and there he is. He sprawls in the chair next to her bed, a simple book in his lap.  When she moves one hand towards him he wakes, sitting up, the book tumbling to the floor. They stare at each other, wordless moments stretching out.  She only realizes that she is crying when Fenris reaches out a hesitant hand, one thumb gently brushing beneath her eye, coming away wet. Wordlessly he moves to sit next to her, hands gripping in the flickering light of the lone candle.   She can hold it in so longer, the tears flowing freely but silent, choking on her voiceless sobs, pain blooming from her wound, spreading to clench her in iron bands.

He is silent through it all, till the end, when at last she has exhausted herself.  Stepping to a table, he returns with a draught, encouraging her to sip at it, knowing it will help ease the pain. He bends down as she drifts off, brushing a lock of icy blonde hair, stuck to her face with tears and sweat, behind an ear.  Darkness enveloping her, she still manages to hear the whispered words.

“Leandra would be very proud of you, Kyana Hawke.”

She drifts away with a smile on her lips, the demons of regret and grief at last calm and silent within.  

[thejourneymaninn]

If this speaks to you: Angst - "I don't want to do this without you." For male Hawke and Fenris? :)

For this drabble list

Angst: 4 - “I don’t want to do this without you” (mentions of injuries and implied potential character death - so you can decide for yourself just how angsty you want it to be :) )

Well, that sure is alot of blood…

How much of it is his? He can feel it seeping into his armour, oozing from a hundred cuts, a thousand,tastes pain, fresh and sharp on his tongue with every stubborn breath. Stainedleather, all that remains, the only thing that’s tangible, real, in this sickly mist, this barren world where nothing hassubstance and everything’s a nightmare.

Nightmare – like theone at his feet. Solid enough to hurt him. Real enough to die.

Your threats were nomatch for my blades.

At least it wasn’t for nothing. They made it out of here.

And they shut the doorbehind them. How thoughtful. Tell me, Hawke, who created the prison too weak tohold him? Who kept the secret, threatened your family, colluded with demons?Whose sins did you so readily choose topay for?

You are too willing toinvolve yourself in the affairs of others, Hawke.

The words echo in his head as lets himself sink onto a jaggedrock. He winces, the change of position tugging at his wounds. The stone iscold, of a blackness that seems to absorb all light. Just one minute. Just oneshort break.

He always gets rid ofspiders for me. He knows how much I hate their hairy little legs. Should havelistened to him. Should have listened to him more often.

I am sorry, Fenris.

My responsibility, myass.

What’s done is done. And it wasn’t for nothing. The thing isdead. The Inquisition still has a chance. Whether it deserves it is anothermatter…

It’s out of his hands now. No one left to protect. No worldto change, no wars to win.

Lost. Free. No difference, no meaning.

So this is how itfeels.

In the distance, he can make out shapes. Not solid like thepitch-black rocks and warped buildings around him, no, they are twisting,moving. Lurking.

But for now, they are merely specks on the horizon. He canspare a moment, allow himself to close his eyes, and think. Of a hand shootingup to cover a sudden giggle, of brows arched in mock reprimand, of that one,deep furrow that forms between them when he’s displeased and how it feelsbeneath his lips when they brush against it, of the one-sided twitch of hislips when he tries to hide his amusement, and a sly smile challenging him toreveal his hand at Wicked Grace.

He smiles back, at his audience of none, a feeble, sad smilethat takes more effort than it should. How much time has passed?

Are these shapesgetting bigger?

Perhaps he can take them on. Perhaps he can outrun them. Buteven if he does….this place cannot sustain him. It was never meant for livingthings.

How many fights do Ihave left in me?

“So this is how it ends,” he whispers as he tries to hold onto his eyes, his smile, the balm of his voice. “I don’t want to do this withoutyou.”

He’s been feeling uneasy for days. Nervous, restless, alwayson the hunt for another task to keep him from obsessing over the thought that something isn’t right.

What, Fenris doesn’tknow, but the feeling doesn’t care for facts and knowledge; it won’t abate.

There’s been no wordfrom Hawke or Varric.

No reason to worry, certainly. Hawke hardly ever sendsletters. He prefers to return to him with a booming “Surprise!” and a smugface. Fenris misses his face. His voice. The warmth of his body in the dark.

Neither of them trusted this new, powerful organisation whose influence spreads fasterthan the Blight. Still, Hawke asked to go alone, fool that he is. And fool thathe is, Fenris agreed.

Varric will keep an eye on Hawke. He would not have involvedhim if it wasn’t safe. It always takes him a while to finish his novel-lengthletters. Lies and elaborations aren’t spun quickly, it would seem. Nothingunusual, no need to worry.

But he can’t help it, this feeling of dread, like antsbustling beneath his skin. It’s as though something is reaching for him, always just beyond the edge of hisvision. He can’t get a grip on it, can’t bring it into focus. Try as he might,it slips through his fingers, leaving nothing but dread.

What is it that he cannot see?

The door slams into the wall with a bang that can only signify thearrival of a Hawke.  

Just not the one he’s been hoping for.

“I thought you had left with Isabela. Weren’t you supposedto smuggle the survivors to—“

“There’s no time for that,” she cuts him off. When did shebecome so brusque, so decisive? Hawkewould be so proud. “Get your things. Isabela’s off to pick up the others. I’llexplain on the way.”

She stares him down from the doorway Hawke’s mabari at her heels.

Can dogs look worried?Or is he merely whining to get a treat?

His sword is always at hand; his bag always packed. Younever know when you’ll have to run, wheneverything might fall apart. When they’ll come for you.

He doesn’t argue. If Bethany says there is reason to hurry, there is reason to hurry. But that he trusts her doesn’tmean he won’t inquire what is going on.

He makes it as far as “What—“

“I had a dream,” she states as though it explainseverything. “And I think I know a way to find him.” For a moment, her eyesclose; she seems unsteady, swaying on her feet. “If it isn’t already too late.”

[ofrevas-archive]

Detailed companion verse

Name: Alanari Tillahnnen

Race: Elvhen

Class & Specialization: Arcane rogue

Varric’s Nickname for them: Bright Eyes

Default Tarot Card: The Chariot

How they are recruited: Encountered protecting a group of elvhen refugees in the Hinterlands. If the correct dialogue options are chosen, Alanari may become an agent or a companion.

Where they are in Skyhold: before renovations are complete, they can be found on the second floor of the barn. Later, they will move in to one of the vacant rooms overlooking the garden. If romanced, their belongings will move to the Inquisitor’s tower.

Things they Generally Approve of: compassion towards marginalized people, limiting the Chantry’s influence, defending elves

Things they Generally Disapprove of: prioritizing the interests of nobility over everyone else, hostility towards elves, turning elvhen artifacts and history over to humans

Mages, Templars, Other?: afraid of both (though that is not something they’ll easily admit), slightly favors mages. Greatly dislikes the Circles.

Companions

Friendly: Varric Blackwall Cole

Indifferent/neutral: Sera Dorian Solas Leliana Iron Bull Josephine

Unfriendly: Cassandra Vivienne

Romanceable?: By elvhen Inquisitors. If the Inquisitor refuses to help rescue their brother, or if Morrigan is allowed access to the Vir’abelasan, there is a potential outcome of Alanari breaking off the relationship.

Small side mission: tbc.

Companion quest:

Triggered upon reaching the Dalish camp in the Exalted Plains. When the Inquisitor exits conversation with Keeper Hawen for the first time, they will approach him on their own. They become more and more distressed, and run from his side mid-sentence to ask that the player accompany them to the Emerald Graves to find their brother, Hawen’s First.

Option 1: Refuse to track Taven and his group. This nets you a ‘greatly disapproves’, and Alanari will temporarily leave the party to find him on their own.  There is, after this, always a hint of disinterest bordering on coldness in their voice when speaking to the Inquisitor. This option will also end any romance, no matter its progression.

Option 2: Agree to help. When next entering the Emerald Graves, a cutscene outside of Din’an Hanin will trigger. You hear combat ahead, and Alanari rushes ahead. The party follows, and the next scene shows Alanari cutting down combined Red Templar-Venatori forces alongside a small group of elves. All appear to be defending one elf in particular, who bears more than a passing resemblance to Alanari.

Like Fenris’ personal quest, if the story progresses and their quest is not completed, Alanari will disappear from Skyhold or camp, and return only when they find Taven.

Tarot card change

Option 1: Five of Swords: discord, promotion of self-interest, conflict

Option 2: Page of Wands: enthusiasm, welcome news

Romanced: Six of Cups

Cole’s reflection on their thoughts: “Quiet, sad acceptance. Say it doesn’t hurt until it feels real.”

Comment(s) on Mages: “Alone and desperate when the entire world either wants you dead or wouldn’t care? No, I have no idea what that feels like.”

Comment(s) on Templars: (sarcastically) “I do appreciate how well they protect everyone from ‘the dangers of magic’.”

When looking for something: “Wait, this could be useful. Let me...there!”

When finding a campsite: “I’m fine to set up here. Or move on. Your choice.”

When the Inquisitor falls: “Hey! We still need you here!”

When the Inquisitor falls (romanced): “No! No, no, no...I’m coming!”

When they are low on Health: “Some help over here!”

When they see a dragon: “Couldn’t we find another path? We’re intruding on its home.”

If the party decides to attack the dragon anyway: “Really?”

During their small side quest:

Greeting:

Cold/Hostile (-75 to -5): “What, you need me to go beat someone up because he didn’t bow to you quickly enough?”

Neutral (-5 to 34): “What is it?”

Warm/Friendly (35 to 125): “Falon?”/”Lethallen?”

Sample banter:

(adapted from here.)

Varric: You don’t talk much about yourself. Alanari: *laughs* I talk enough. Varric: No, what you do is put out hot air, and hope no one notices. Not the same thing. Alanari: What do you want me to say? My life wasn’t some magical adventure. Or constant stealing, despite what I know humans like to believe. Alanari: Why do you want to know so much, anyway? Varric: Everyone has a past. Alanari: So make it up. Everyone else does.

Leaving the Inquisition: “Not that I expect you to care, but I’m out. I want nothing more to do with where you’re heading.”

Detailed approval/disapproval: major quests

Champions of the Just:

Lord Abernache: Care to mark the moment? Ten Orlesian houses walk with you.

(Nobility Knowledge) I celebrate this pairing. : slightly disapproves

Perhaps an overblown speech?: slightly approves

Banner ritual:

Andraste first: slightly disapproves People first: approves Templars first: disapproves

Templars allied: disapproves Templars disbanded: no change

In Hushed Whispers:

Connor: That's me. The boy with Redcliffe's blood on his hands.

It wasn't your fault.: slightly approves I'm surprised you're here.: no change They should have killed you.: slightly disapproves

Fiona: As one indentured to a magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you.

You've made a huge mistake.: slightly approves That was fast.: no change You're ignoring the Breach?: slightly approves Then tell me who does.: no change

Lysas: Were you really looking to ally with us?

Yes. Mages should be free.: approves You sound doubtful.: no change No. You should be contained.: slightly disapproves

Dorian: The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it's unraveling the world.

This is a lot to swallow.: no change Do you have evidence?: no change I don't trust you.: slightly approves

Felix: And I can tell you one thing: whatever he's done for them, he's done it to get to you.

How do we stop him?: no change I'm flattered.: no change He doesn't scare me.: slightly disapproves

Alexius: Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives.

Perhaps we should include her.: approves Because you simply ooze trust.: slightly approves Let's get to business.

Alexius: The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange?

We have connections.: slightly disapproves Nothing.: slightly approves I know you want me dead.: no change Let's talk about time magic.: slightly approves Tell me about the Venatori.

Alexius: Felix, what have you done?

He's concerned about you.: no change Your trap has already failed.: no change Why are you really here?: no change

Alexius: You're nothing but a mistake.

What was supposed to happen?: slightly approves What is the mark?: no change Who killed the Divine?: no change

Alexius: The Elder One has power you would not believe. He will raise the Imperium from its own ashes.

Who is the Elder One?: no change You're a fanatic.: slightly approves What kind of power?: no change

Conscript mages: disapproves Ally mages: slightly approves

In Your Heart Shall Burn

If all six townspeople were helped/rescued (only party members): approves

If you don't save all six townspeople, but do manage to save at least one (only party members): slightly approves

Dorian: From what I gathered in Redcliffe, it marched all of this way to take your Herald. / Cole: The Elder One doesn't care about the village. He only wants the Herald.

I'd give myself to save Haven.: slightly approves Why? Why does he want me?: no change How do I stop him?: approves

Roderick: She must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me so I could... tell you.

Cullen, can you get them out?: no change Rocks won't stop a dragon.: no change Go. I'll distract them.: slightly approves

The Ceremony

Cassandra: You.

(Surprised) But I'm not your chosen one!: no change (Pleased) I'm honored./My faith is rewarded.: slightly disapproves (Confused) Everyone agreed to this?: no change But I'm not even human. (non-human only): slightly approves You trust this to a mage? (mage only): slightly approves (Mad) I don't want this!: slightly disapproves

Cassandra: There would be no Inquisition without you. How it will serve, how you lead: that must be yours to decide.

A dwarf will stand for us all. (Dwarven only): no change An elf will stand for us all. (Elven only): approves A qunari will stand for us all. (Qunari only): no change I'll set an example as a mage.: slightly approves I'll be a servant of faith.: slightly disapproves I fight for order, not faith.: slightly approves I'll do it because it's right.: slightly approves Corypheus must be stopped.:slightly approves I will lead them to vengeance.: no change I'll do it for my own power. : disapproves

Here Lies the Abyss

Hawke left in Fade: disapproves Warden left in Fade: no change

Wardens exiled: no change Wardens exiled (if Jana was sacrificed): approves   Wardens allied: no change Wardens allied (if Jana was sacrificed): slightly disapproves

Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts

I'll talk with Florianne. (Publicly expose the duchess' crimes to the court, avoiding further bloodshed.): no change I will execute her myself. (Kill the duchess.): no change Take her away. (Give the Duchess to the guards.): no change Detain the duchess. (Save Celene's life, then deal with the duchess.): no change Wait for Florianne to attack. (Allow the empress to die before dealing with the duchess.): no change

Celene rules alone

Briala is an accomplice. (Gaspard executed. Implicate Briala as well.): disapproves (Special) No, spare Gaspard's life. (Try to convince Celene to let Gaspard live.): slightly disapproves

Celene and Briala rule together

Briala helped stop Florianne. (Use the evidence gathered about Gaspard to support Briala.): slightly approves What about Briala's reward? (Gaspard executed. Attempt to reconcile Celene and Briala.): slightly approves Reconciliation successful: no change

Public truce

All of you were at fault. (Try to force the three leaders into a truce.): no change Work together for Orlais.: no change You've been outplayed.: no change

You work for me now.: slightly disapproves

Gaspard rules alone

Gaspard will be emperor. (Use the blackmail material to discredit Briala and support Gaspard.): greatly disapproves

Gaspard and Briala rule

Briala can take over. (Use blackmail material to put Briala in power.): greatly approves

What Pride Had Wrought

Follow rituals to access temple: approves Follow Samson/Calpernia: slightly disapproves

Accept alliance: approves Reject alliance: greatly disapproves

Allow Calpernia to leave: slightly approves Destroy Samson’s armor: slightly approves

Elvhen inquisitor drinks: slightly approves Inquisitor allows Alanari to drink: greatly approves Morrigan or non-elvhen inquisitor drink (potential crisis point): greatly disapproves

Detailed approval/disapproval: minor quests

Flowers for Senna:

approves

Jana (Crestwood):

"Don't join the Wardens." /  "Solas?": slightly approves

"Go ahead and join." / "I can see the appeal.": disapproves. applied during “Here Lies the Abyss”.

From the Beyond:

desecrate the graves: disapproves.

clear the site of demons and leave: approves

Someone to Lose:

“He was brave.”: no approval change.

“Teenagers are stupid.”: slightly disapproves

“Blood magic.”: slightly disapproves

allowing Alanari to explain what happened: slightly approves

By the Grace of the Dalish:

each time a task is completed: slightly approves

The Knights’ Tomb:

give the scroll to Keeper Hawen: greatly approves sell the scroll to the Chantry: greatly disapproves

Bestow Mourning Halla (wartable):

Cullen/Josephine: approves Leliana: slightly disapproves

Freemen of the Dales:

each time a cell is wiped out: slightly approves

Judgement approval/disapproval

Gereon Alexius

Execution: no change Imprisonment: no change Put to work for the mages: approves Made Tranquil: disapproves Forced to research magic arcana for the Inquisition: no change

Knight-Captain Denam

Execution: no change Imprisonment: no change Given to the Templars to be punished: slightly disapproves Exiled to the Sea of Ash: disapproves Conscription: disapproves

Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons

(if alive) Encloisterment: slightly disapproves Recruit her for the Inquisition: no change Farm work: approves Exile: slightly disapproves Make her the Inquisition's court jester: slightly approves

(if dead) Ignore her: no change Put her remains to use: no change Return the trade routes to the reigning monarch: slightly disapproves Void her claims: no change

Magister Livius Erimond

Imprisonment: no change Execution: approves Made Tranquil: disapproves Remand to the Grey Wardens: no change

Ser Ruth

Divine Forgiveness: disapproves Public Humiliation: no change Imprisonment: no change Refuse to judge a Warden: slightly disapproves   Exile like the rest of the Wardens: no change Exile to the Deep Roads: no change

Samson

Serve the Inquisition: no change Give him to Dagna for study: no change Remand to Kirkwall for judgment: no change Exile to the wilderness: disapproves Imprisonment: no change

Captain Thom Rainier

Pardon: approves Give him to the Wardens after the Inquisition ends: no change Servitude to the Inquisition: greatly disapproves

Chief Movran the Under

Banishment: slightly disapproves Put on public display in a gibbet and "probably" released: disapproves Arm and Exile to Tevinter: approves Assign to Abernache: no change

Mayor Gregory Dedrick

Give him to the Grey Wardens: slightly disapprovers Exile: slightly disapproves Give him a clean death: no change Lock him up in Ferelden: no change

Crassius Servis

Imprisonment: no change Returned to Corypheus: slightly approves Recruited as an Informant: no change Recruited as a Smuggler: no change

Mistress Poulin

Have her rebuild the town: slightly approves Released: disapproves Put to work: no change Execution: no change Money confiscated for House Trevelyan: disapproves

[purplehairedhero]

A Fen/Femhawke Baby Fic List

A Fenris/FemHawke family/pregnancy/baby fic lists. Still a WIP. Only criteria is that it is FemHawke/Fenris, and it can’t be sad/depressing (I’m looking at you “Here Lies the Abyss” fics). Send me recs! Edit: 10/19/17 New stories added, Natural by Cannibal Kats and several at the bottom. 

“Hiding, Not Quite Hidden” by Brosca-Pride. Hawke and Fenris, together forever, even if it means hiding themselves and children from everything.

“Was it Worth it:?” by CannibalKats. Just a short piece about Fenris and Dahl Hawke during Inquisition. Bonus Papa Fenris.

“Take Care of Her” by CannibalKats. Anders, Hawke, and Fenris are the only members of the Kirkwall crew still on the run. Fenris catches Anders leaving in the middle of the night and promises not to let Hawke follow.

“Natural” by CannibalKats.  A short bit of fluff. The birth of Fenris and Dahl's first child. While not graphic childbirth is described from Fenris' pov.

“Wander Wild and Far.” by Spirrum. After Adamant Hawke leaves for Weisshaupt as planned, but finds instead an entirely different adventure, a stray Fereldan Queen, a dragon, and that being pregnant wile the world is ending is not all that it’s cracked up to be.

“So Much Hinges on a Maybe.” by Spirrum. Hawke and Fenris, and trying to get pregnant.

“Frostling” by Spirrum.You can grow to love a great many things.

“Smaller Flames.” by Spirrum. Their youngest discovers her magic, in true Hawke fashion. With an explosion

Broody Porcupine Snapshot Series by TheFlamingNymph. An AO3 collection.

“Little Monster” by TheFlamingNymph. Hawke just wants a nap. Just one.

Fenris and Hawke’s Family Series by SassyOrlesian. An AO3 collection.

“What I was made for” by MiaCousland. Hawke and Fenris’ child is brought into the world.

“Steal and Shadow” by MiaCousland. Hawke has to find her way throught the Frostback Mountains to answer a letter that has been sent by an old friend from Kirkwall. Note: Haven’t read this one personally yet.

“The Elf and the Babe” by Gaqalesqua. Fenris, romanced by a female Hawke, turns up at Skyhold wearing a baby sling with a baby in it. Trevelyan investigates.

“The Life We’ve Wrought” by ClockWorkSymmetry. Hawke x Fenris is adorable.

Wil and Cro Hawke Series by NovemberOcean (TwilightHawke). An AO3 collection.

“A Change in Principles” by K4t3yk4t. He hadn’t expected things to end up like this. Of course, there had been signs, and of course, they’d planned for it, but he had never expected anything like this to happen. Not to him. He feels rooted; an immobilization worse than any command had ever caused, worse than seeing Hawke nearly die, worse, so much worse. And yet...

“Ardently” by Uniqueinalltheworld.When Marian Hawke decided to leave her children with responsible adults before helping the inquisition, she had counted on being able to find one somewhere. Unfortunately, it seems like Anders and Fenris will have to do.

“Dawn” by Alistairweekend. “Mm...your kid before five in the morning.”

“Hawkquisition Series & other Stories” by Rannadylin. Most of her work has a baby or pregnancy existing somewhere. Special mention goes to Sapling.

Misadventures of Mari Hawke Series by Wintryone. An AO3 collection.

“A Different Kind of Magic” by sevanderslice. Fenris’s thoughts after the birth of his children.

“Finally together, Birds of a Feather, part 1″ by Hatsepsut. Fenris and Hawke are together after three years, and their relationship evolves. Moving in together, falling even deeper in love, going through the paces that are life, having a family, while the world crashes around their ears.

“Come Back to Me.” by Hatsepsut. Fenris leaves he City of Chains after the night he spends with Hawke; heavy words had been exchanged and everything between them looked hopeless. Eleven months later, he is back, determined to win the affection of the woman he can't forget again. But she seems to have a secret...

“On Waking” by loquaciousquark. Years after the events of Act III, Hawke and Fenris’s six-year-old daughter tries to figure out her mother’s past, her place in the tiny town of Wilhaven, and why her father never wakes up. AUTHORS SEAL OF APPROVAL.

“No Labor Like Love” by loquaciousquark. Hawke is pregnant. Fenris copes as best he can; everyone else laughs from a distance. A series of unconnected vignettes spanning the pregnancy of a Champion. AUTHORS SEAL OF APPROVAL.  The quintessential pregnancy/family fic.

“Given Respite” by loquaciousquark. Dorian meets Fenris. An interlude set after “Here Lies The Abyss.” Same universe as On Waking? AUTHORS SEAL OF APPROVAL. Honestly anything written by loquacious is amazing but this is a BABY fic list but seriously do yourself a favor and devour their work. Has a “sequel” written by Jade_Sabre called “Memorare” but not very related to this list either.

“A Deafening Sound” by loquaciousquark. Fenris and his newborn daughter.

“Whats that Holiday fic” by loquaciousquark. Carver meets his newborn nephew. This. THIS. This is the story I started this list looking for. I knew I wasn’t crazy! But on tumblr of all places???

“More Beach fic” by loquaciousquark. The fam is at the beach.

“I Mourn your Absence.” by loquaciousquark. Fenris and Leda go after Hawke.

“In Retrospect, a chicken was a bad choice.” by jadesabre301. The title says it all. Features laquaciousquark’s Leda Hawke.

“Always Safe with Us.” by Tadeusz. Hawke thought raising a baby with a trio of parents would be easier than with just two. That’s hilarious, Hawke. Totally cute that you think that. All it does is create more confusion about who has to get up when that baby cries at night.

“Hands and Feet” by Toffle. The revelation does not come in ice, or fire. It comes only with a gentle touch.

“Celebration” by Scurvaliciousbay. Fenris wakes up to Katra making a cake for their daughter’s first birthday. “Three Words” is a sequel. Fenris is putting his daughter to bed when she says something unexpected.

“New Beginnings” by onemooncircles. Heading home after concluding his business with the Inquisition, Varric pays a visit to some friends he has lied through his teeth to protect.

“The Wolf Within” by Ivy_Adair. Five years after Fenris left Marian Hawke behind in Kirkwall, he returns to discover that some things never change but others, like the addition of a little girl with black hair and green eyes, change completely. He mush come full circle to realize that he isn’t his past and that the wolf within him won’t be his future. A modern!AU.

“Medela” by mahuika. It surprises him, as it always has, how resilient a heart can be when he’s so used to seeing them ripped out and half-beating in his hand. Or, Varania is invited to meet her niece. AUTHORS SEAL OF APPROVAL.

“Exhale” by Chalahandra. Rhonwen gurgles, pushing herself up from the quilt. It’s a sunny day, with birds chirping and people talking quietly - and for the first time in a very long time, Fenris lets himself smile.

“A Cold Winter Day.” by Pinkwebby. Hawke has been pregnant for nine months, and she is ready to give birth to this child. Is she really ready to have a kid though?

“Playing in the Rain” by servantofclio. Hawke watches her partner and children in the rain. Has sequal “A Reunion and a Reckoning.” Fenris catches up to Hawke at Skyhold.

Dragon Age: Generations Series by DancingMantis. Roots and Wings more relevant to list.

“She Came Back.” by LittleWritings. Fenris finds Hawke at Weishaupt. Its a little rough but different than most.

While you were Sleeping Series by hollandmarie. VERY CUTE.

“The Hawke Child.” by CaptainStornChaser. "Am I the father?" He asked her, standing from where he had been waiting for her inside the entrance hall of her estate, reminiscent of the night the child may very well have been conceived.Marian merely stared at him evenly for a few moments. "You should go home, Fenris."

“What If.” by RaddishRodya. Hawke and Fenris have a discussion about what would happen if they had children. Also, Fenris learns how to play dictionary tag.

“Hesitations” by wiltedartist. Dehlian Hawke knows one thing and thing only: She has no idea as to how she will inform Fenris he will be a father. Sequel “The Empty Thirst.” How strange, he realized to himself, that he never knew just how much he needed one thing. Control. Fenris!F!Hawke, pregnant sex and dominant Fenris

“Mama Bird” by sparkyarcher. Elia comes home to a suspiciously quiet estate. Adorableness ensues.

“Another Heart” by aryadeschain.One sleepless night turned out to present Fenris a pleasant surprise.

“For What it’s Worth” by Nyessa. Years after Isabela runs away from Kirkwall with the Tome of Koslun, Imogen Hawke catches up to her in Denerim to settle some unfinished business.

“Dragon Age Prompts” by Jawbones. Chap. 4 “Lullaby”  "The way you said 'I love you': Not said to me" Might be more in series.

“A Hawkling Tale.” by Sportsoma.  Hawke surely does, and there's a little memento in case she wants to forget. However, being a mage and fearing the Chantry will take her expected bundle of joy, Hawke flees Kirkwall. Also a series sharing same name.

“Under the Skin.” by Lavender_Seaglass. After all that she's been through, Hawke doesn't plan on going anywhere else, let alone leaving him behind. This is, however, not something she's sure how to face. Doing things is easy; it's the regrets that kill you.

“Unplanned Consequences.” by Dragondreads.  When Hawke finds herself in the awkward position of being pregnant after the only night of passion she found with Fenris, she turns to her friend Varric for help

“Sweet Vermouth” by AngelicSentinel. Fenris would do anything for Hawke—Even conquer the Fade itself.

“I remain at your side.” by Lourdes23. When Kirkwall fell so did its Champion. Changed by betrayal, hunted and outcast, Hawke must find the strength to rise up once more in defense of a world gone mad. Yet humans can only withstand so much before desperation drives them beyond reason. When she's at her breaking point, and the weight of her duties seems too much to bear, who will stand with her and share the burden?Who will champion the Champion?  

“New Beginnings.” by Jessica Pendragon. He has dealt in death for so long and now only wants to hold life in his hands.

“Find Your Own Way Back Home.” by locketofyourhair. These books are slim, without names on the covers, and when he opens one, he can see that some of the pages are blank. Others are covered with small handwriting that he knows well, and it feels like a blow to see it again. They are journals; they are Hawke’s journals.He reads them as he finds himself adrift without her.

“Of Sausages and Surprises.” by RedIn. It was one of those evenings when her mother tried to make a noble fragile flower of her. She invited Comtesse Berauear and her two cocky daughters; Lizzeta and Pavetta. It was meant to be a boring, annoying evening or so Hawke thought.Sandal was the last person who she thought would interrupt the boredom of their well-mannered Hightown style party.

“Foxes on the Run” by ms45. Hawke gives birth whilst on the run from the Chantry.

“Milk” by Persephone. Hawke/LI - Lactating. Smut.

“Only You.” by kellbelle. This is a story of Hawke fleeing Kirkwall alone, having never romanced anyone and believing the man she loves could never love her back.

“Isabela and the Dread Pirate Captain Hook” by Dakoyone. Isabela tells a story from her grand pirating adventure days to the littlest Hawkes. No actual mention of Fenris but all her other stories are Fenhawke and there is a father so...

“That Which is Lost” by Niamh_St_George. A decade after the events in Kirkwall, Amelle Hawke and Fenris have made a quiet life for themselves. But when their idyll is shattered, Fenris discovers that while men are dealt with easily enough, it is once again magic standing poised to take everything away.

[dovabunny]

Army Greens

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Category: M/M

Fandom: Dragon Age II

Relationship: Anders/Fenris

Chapter: 1/1

Series: Fenders Ficlets

Additional Tags: Modern AU; Fenris goes off to war; Anders Week 2017; day 3: charity and greed; Fenders Friday; Happy Ending

Summary: "Forgive me Anders. This is something I have to do. For those who saved me, for those like me, and those like you. Goodbye love.”

Fenris goes off to war against Tevinter, leaving the love of his life behind. A heartbreaking fic with a happy ending for Anders week.

Anders stared at the closed door. Angry tears still streamed down his face where he sat on his knees. From the corner of his eye he caught Fenris walking down the sidewalk in his army greens towards the waiting bus.

He could feel his heart breaking, their fight still ringing in his ears…

  ___________________

  “You don’t have to do this Fenris! Violence is no way to achieve peace!”

  “Says the man who started a revolution! Not to mention you were a Grey Warden!”

  “Exactly! I know what is lying ahead if you walk out that door! I won’t let you do that!”

  “Anders, love, please understand. I have to do this. Tevinter needs to fall for the slavery to finally end, the slavery I was saved from!”

  “But killing Fenris… You’d be murdering mages.”

  “Anders,” Fenris took his face in his hands, gentle thumbs wiping away brimming tears beginning to spill. “They are nothing like you. You are good, and kind, and fair… You’re the best man I know. I need to know that others like me will be free to be with someone like you. Please, I know you’re afraid for me, but you need to let me go…”

  “No!” Anders ripped Fenris’ hands off him, tears streaming in anger. “Don’t ask me that, I can’t do it! I won’t! I won’t send you out there to die! You can’t expect that of me! Please, PLEASE Fenris! I beg you…” Anders dropped to his knees and Fenris knelt with him. Anders pleaded like he never pleaded before. “Don’t do this!”

  “I’m sorry Anders…” Fenris slowly rose, avoiding Anders’ gaze

  “Fenris! Fenris, if you leave now, I won’t be here when you come back! I can’t live knowing my lover might die any day!”

  Fenris opened the door and stood in the doorway, the hurt in his eyes a sharp knife twisting in Anders’ chest.

  “Forgive me Anders. This is something I have to do. For those who saved me, for those like me, and those like you. Goodbye love.”

______________________

Anders felt his heart shatter as the bus pulled away, taking half of him with it into a warzone. The years of war with the Imperium having culminated to this, and Fenris, being a military reserve due to his knowledge of the Imperium and the specialist training forced upon him as a slave, was called into the special ops that were going to deliver the final blow across enemy lines.

It was a suicide mission.

Anders felt hollow, lost, angry, but most of all hurt. So he did what he knew best - he worked.

He got up, put on his scrubs, and left early for his shift at the hospital, not even bothering to take his lunch.

_______________________

Over the next few weeks that was all Anders knew. Work.

He gave and gave of himself until there was nothing left to hurt, no energy left to think of how Fenris walked out on him and their life together.

But every returning soldier that came through those doors was a painful reminder of what might be. Every night he lay alone in the cold bed too big for him and reached out to the empty pillow, he dreamed of what could have been.

Finally, after six weeks of rarely eating or sleeping and overworking,  Merrill, the sweet receptionist that always seemed like she didn’t know what was going on, pushed a pen and paper into his hands with a knowing smile.

“Write to him.”

So Anders did.

He wrote of how sorry he was, how terribly he missed Fenris, how the nights and days without him were empty and dull. He wrote of Fenris’ smile, his laugh, his delightful dry wit, his sharp mind, his tender touch, and his overwhelming love.

Anders wrote and wrote, every day for a month, without hearing anything back. Everyday he would run out to the mailbox only to have the mailman give him a sad smile. But that didn’t stop him.

Anders visited the local army base once a week to hear if there was any news on Fenris’ unit, only to be told time and time again that their mission was a covert one and no news was coming from beyond enemy lines, it was too dangerous.

The next to reach out was Sebastian.

The young brother sat down next to Anders where he was sitting on the sidewalk, waiting for the mailman.

“You know, your letters might not reach him, but the Maker can.”

So Anders prayed. He worked, and wrote, and prayed, and waited. Nothing.

Varric came then, offering friendly support and comfort.

“You know Blondie, what you need is distraction. How about some Wicked Grace? Or books perhaps? I happen to know a great writer, if you’re interested.”

Anders didn’t want to face his friends, didn’t want to see the empty spot next to him at the Wicked Grace table. Fenris’ absence was already tangible enough, so he took option two.

Anders worked, and wrote, and prayed, and read, and waited. He gave away his time, mind, and energy freely to pass the time. And pass it did.

_______________________

The calendar read 97 days. 97 days without light or laughter or love. Anders worked, putting in overtime helping those who couldn’t help themselves. He wrote, pleading Fenris to forgive him and come home. He prayed, begging the Maker to keep him safe. He waited, patiently, for a letter or news of the love of his life. He read, to keep his mind from wandering and seeing his lover hurt and broken, or imagining he heard the bus pull up and footsteps walking towards the door and the doorbe-

‘Dling-Dlong!’

-ell ring.

A timid knock on the door had Anders turn in his seat towards the door. He couldn’t see who it was from where he sat. His mind quickly supplied an image of uniformed men holding a flag.

‘Dling-Dlong!’

Anders was up on his feet before the next breath, barely falling over. Rushing to the door he dropped the book that was on his lap to yank it open.

There, in the doorway, in army camo pants and boots, a simple black t-shirt, and a duffle bag stood the man he thought he might never see again. A bad scar over his left eyebrow and cheekbone suggesting he almost never did.

Anders just stared, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to be sure this wasn’t another dream or fantasy - that he hadn’t completely lost his mind.

“Am I still welcome here?” a cautious voice softly asked as emerald eyes shyly looked up into his.

Tears answered before words did, Anders feeling a dam of worry, stress, and relief burst all at once and flood his heart, waters bringing life where for 97 days it had been broken and barren.

Arms wrapped around Fenris’ neck as Anders buried his sobs into his lovers neck, clinging for dear life as if the Maker would rip him from his arms at any moment.

“Fenris…” Anders cried into his shoulder. “You’re home love.”

Slowly at first, arms moved around Anders’ back, then held tighter as an answering desperation took over Fenris’ body.

“Oh Anders…” he sniffed. “Thank the Maker. You don’t know how many letters I wrote, how many nights I laid and prayed over your picture that I could come home to you.

______________

  Fenris holds the picture to his forehead. It’s a picture of Anders smiling directly at him when he took it. Those amber-gold eyes so full of life and love. Will he ever see those eyes again? Will those arms be open to him when all this is over? Or did Anders mean the words he said in his hurt when they parted?

  Commander Cullen gives the signal, and they stand. One by one they move out and jump from the plane, dropping down into enemy territory. Their target, the hideout of the Imperium’s leader, is below.

  Things go according to plan. Fenris guides them through the maze of underground tunnels and direct them towards the main chamber, taking out guards as they go. It was only after he heard the soft click of a landmine that he knew they was in trouble. There was barely enough time to warn everyone to get back as he jumped to shield the bulk of the group from the blast so they could continue with the mission - they were so close.

  The last image that came to mind was Anders, the love of his life. A smile on his face as he thought at how angry Anders would be at him for giving his life.  

  . . .

  Everything was a haze. Fenris sees Anders, his bright smile and warm eyes, hears his gentle voice. He hears Anders’ shy laugh at a bad joke he made, sees him blush as Fenris asks him to have coffee with him. Feels lips slightly quiver as they meet his in a first kiss. More memories and smiles and laughter and tears. Anders’ face in the throes of passion, looking up at him, eyes filled with such devotion and wonder as words of love tumble over soft parted lips gasping for breath as heated bodies rocked together. Anders shrieking in excitement at his graduation. The tears of their first big fight. The tears when he asked Fenris to move in with him. That ring he had bought just before he got the call that he had been enlisted...

  “Fenris? Fenris! There you are. You gave us a fright there man. Good to have you back! You’re a blightened hero is what you are. Saved the whole bitch-ass mission! What were you thinking though, dude? Jumping in front of a Tevinter turd?”

  Fenris smiled, both at Hawke’s expression for a landmine and at the question asked.

  “Of home”

  _________________________

Fenris stood up straight, and started his walk down the aisle. Everywhere eyes turned towards him. A tunnel brigade of his squad mates stood on either side in their matching formal uniforms of black, white, and gold, holding their swords to their chests in respect.

Fenris walked proudly to the front smirking at Alistair trying not to cry. They all sported similar medals for being the squadron that executed the enemy’s leader triggering the surrender of the Tevinter forces, except for Fenris who also wore the Blue Cross for his exceptional bravery in battle.

He turned and waited at the end of the aisle. Sebastian gave him a smile and a wink.

The music changed and everyone rose to their feet. The men lifted their swords and crossed them, forming an arch as the doors opened for Anders.

Long silken blond hair was loose and falling over his shoulder, dressed in his own Warden formal wear of navy and silver. Elegant black boots came up to his calves, his mage Warden blues with adorned silver showing the curve of his tall frame and broad shoulders.

He blushed prettily and shy at the room full of people all looking at him, but when his eyes met Fenris’ there was nothing else but them.

. . .

“Anders, do you promise to be his, in mind, body, and soul, as long as you both shall live?”

“Wholly and completely, I do.”

“And do you Fenris, promise to be Anders’ in mind, body, and soul, as long as you both shall live?”

“With everything I have and everything I am, I do.”

“Then by the power vested in me by the Chantry and the Maker - I now pronounce you husband and husband!”

Cheers erupted in the room as Anders grabbed Fenris around his neck and pulled him in for a passionate kiss.

“I am yours Anders, now and forever,” Fenris whispered to his husband over the cheers.

“And I greedily accept every second,” Anders smiled back, “and give you all of me”.

[griffinsanddragons]

Unexpected Developments [Part One]

Amid an important investigation, Aveline needs Hawke to stay out of trouble and Anders reluctantly agrees to help her–for Hawke’s sake.

Her troubles, however, aren’t as simple as her friends believe.

AKA, That feel when you and the person you hate share a mutual friend who can’t stop doing shady things.

I’ve been gone because I’ve been sad, but I wrote a thing to share. 

Part 2 coming…eventually. 

Takes place sometime before ‘My Dearest Sister.’

Happy Reading.

The Guardsmen had two problems--the first filtered into the second. First was the body of the man laying dead on the ground and the second was the scrutiny of the Guard Captain.

As for the man, whoever killed him broke his nose; it sat bloody, bruised, and twisted on his face. 

Ghastly purple bruises sat right below his eyes and welts lined the rest of what might have been a handsome face before the beating.

“Let it be someone else’s problem!” His partner shot from the mouth of the alley. “He won’t be going anywhere.”

Sickly gray fog settled like smoke against the cold stone streets and buildings of their city, but the shining metal plate of a Templar could not be ignored despite the low visibility.

Someone, inevitably, would find him, run to the Guard or a Templar and The Captain would not be happy.

“Second one this week.”The Guardsmen sighed, recalling the lazy report written by the guard who found the first of the bodies.

Someone had to tell The Captain something–And it may as well be him.

Once the Templars were called to move and identify brother-in-arms, The Guardsman wrote a thorough report that pinned the murder on a random, Lowtown gang.

As suspected, however, Guard-Captain Aveline wasn’t happy.

“That’ll be all, Guardsman.” She dismissed him with a flick of the wrist.

Outside, he could hear the others whispering. He imagined them crowding behind the door and sharing looks of sympathy. No one, if they could help it, submitted their daily reports so early. 

“What will you do, Captain?” He asked, confused by the haunted look that took her stony facade away.

She recognized departed’s name.

“Search for answers.”

A search that would lead to the estate of an old, and frankly quite troubling, friend.

[Keep Reading]

Hawke’s attic, Aveline discovered some time ago, was the largest room her mansion had to spare.

The squatters, she assumed, transformed the space into a library of the magical, arcane, and smuggled Tevinter literature–the things any good Andrastian would burn or throw away. 

But Hawke preserved it all, keeping everything in place. 

She potted plants, however, and let them spread across the room without boundary: they grew wildly upon tables, hangers, hooks, and shelves, forming a bright, harmonious display–a stark contrast to her more recent moods. 

Hawke sat at the table in the center of the room with a solemn expression and deep, tired bags that dampened her umber skin’s glow. A book was laid before her, though she’d apparently given up on reading. Instead, she gazed across the room, looking out at the city through the attic’s dormer window. 

“Hawke,” Aveline greeted, “I see you’ve found that hobby we’ve discussed.” Contrary to her previous demeanor, Aveline spoke in a calm, friendly voice.

“Yes well–plants are far easier to deal with than people; I can replace them if they die and they won’t abandon you.” Hawke smiled through her words, biting back their bitter edge. She turned toward Aveline.

“Thinking about Bethany, I take it?”

“I’m always thinking about Bethany.”

The day she left for the Circle, (the same day Hawke, Varric, Fenris and Anders returned from their expedition of the Deep Roads,) Hawke confided in Aveline:

‘I’ve spent my whole life taking care of her,’ she confessed, her voice wavering, teetering back and forth like a ship at sea, ‘I fought so she wouldn’t have to, gave her everything I could, I-I’ve done everything to keep her from the Circle and now…I don’t know what to do. How do I-What do I do?’ Aveline didn’t have an answer–only leads: a job, a hobby…a cause she could believe in. Something to do to help soothe the grieving.

“Have you heard anything?”

“No. And I doubt I ever will.”

“Hawke-”

“You’re not here to help me wallow in misery, are you? I can do that fine alone, Aveline.” She looked down at the table, staring as though she found the polished wood interesting.

“No.” Aveline stood at the edge of the table as though moving any closer would cause Hawke to break. “I came to ask about this.” She waved the report before her, causing Hawke to look up again.

“It’s…a report, Aveline–written by a very bad speller,”

“The name, Hawke. You recognize it, don’t you?”

“Should I?”

“This isn’t the time for games. What do you know about this?”

“Nothing.”

“Did you, or whoever gave you the names of those Templars, do this? Did you have this man killed?”

“That does sound like something I’d do, doesn’t it?” Her voice was an awkward blend of dejection and whimsy, “But I’m hurt that you’d accuse me. Beatings aren’t really my style, you know that–they’re far too messy.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“No Aveline,” Hawke sighed, “I did not have that person killed.”

“Continue.” The paper rustled as she folded her arms and searched Hawke’s expression for a tell that she was lying.

“And I didn’t beat him to death either.” 

“You truly expect me to believe it’s a coincidence both Templars we’ve found were involved in Bethany’s-”

“Abduction?” She cut her off, filling in the words bitterly. 

“Departure.” Aveline finished, prompting Hawke to scoff and rolled her eyes. 

How she acquired such information, Aveline didn’t know and Hawke had no interest in telling. All evidence pointed to Varric, however, who seemed to know just about everything happening in the city–but that didn’t matter, not yet.

What mattered was how adamant she’d been about extracting her vengeance then, and how she plotted their demise. It was only after Aveline reminded her of the promise she made to Bethany that Hawke backed down from her violent claims.

She wasn’t to do anything reckless.

“When you consider the brazen way they tend to rip apart families, I’m sure both those Templars made plenty of enemies–I wouldn’t be surprised if someone in one of the gangs had a mage for a father or a sister or something–it isn’t unlikely.”

Aveline narrowed her eyes, placing Hawke at the center of her dangerous gaze.

“That’s an oddly specific circumstance.”

“Shouldn’t you be asking these questions to the gangs down in Lowtown? You know, the ones who really did the killing?” Hawke smiled for the first time that day; it was a toothy, flagrant grin that didn’t make it to her eyes. Had it not been Hawke, that smile would have told Aveline all she needed to know about the case.

But she wanted to make things difficult.

“And besides, Aveline. The city really is better off without them. I’d like to think of these things as justice, for all the families they’ve torn apart and broken.”

The last thing Aveline needed was to play one of Hawke’s silly games–she wasn’t as charming as she’d like to believe–her words, however, gave Aveline another lead.  

Justice was her cue to look for answers elsewhere.

“You!”

Cracks of blue broke out across Anders’ skin in response to the harsh, angry tone of her voice. And as he turned to defend himself against the hostile intruder, his stone pestle fell and rolled across the floor.

Justice retreated back into the confines of their mind, however, when there was nothing in their line of sight to be afraid of.

It was only Aveline.

“Have you changed your mind about that salve? Or are you here to arrest me for something?”

“I might be.” She approached him at the table, glaring at she reached into her pack for the report she’d shown Hawke earlier. “What can you tell me about this?” She held the parchment before him, the top wrinkling beneath her tight, rigid grasp.

“It’s a report.” He sucked the air through his teeth, “clearly.”

“Read it, you ass.” He took the paper from her with a roll of his eyes and read the hurried, slanted script of a guard too frantic to check their spelling.

He recognized one of the names–it had been spoken in passing by one of his contacts in the gallows. They weren’t particularly cruel–but not particularly helpful either. 

“So a Templar is killed and I’m to take responsibility? Is it so surprising there are others who hate them in this city? Or are you so far gone you’ve taken to casting stones at the first apostate you see?”

“Shove it, Anders,” Aveline’s voice was sharp and firm, her underlying hatred of him clear as the sun on a summer day. “I spoke with Hawke–This is your damned influence isn’t it? Taking advantage of her to further your misplaced cause–is there anything you won’t stoop to?”

“Taking ad- you think Hawke did this? You think I asked her to?” He wasn’t sure what to address first: her adamant belief he held some sort of sway over Hawke’s actions, or the fact she referred to his cause, freedom for all mages, as ‘misplaced.’

“I believe she could have, with the right accomplice. ” She folded her arms across her chest and stood firmly on her beliefs. 

He scoffed.

“But you’ve no proof of anything.” Typical. “Then again, who needs facts when you’ve got the power to dictate the truth? Do you plan to arrest us together with your unfounded claims?” He’d fight her if he had to, though he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Hawke trusted Aveline, though he didn’t fathom why, but he trusted Hawke. 

She’d never allow Aveline to take him.

“I plan to put an end to this before she, or anyone else, winds up dead.”

“And if she’s innocent?”

“Then I owe her an apology.” 

“I’d pay good coin to see that.”

“I’m sure.” She took the report from his hands and looked it over again. “If you’re as innocent as you claim, then help me.”

“Help you protect Templars? Should I check your head for injury?”

“Must you always be such a tit?” Was ‘basic civility,’ not a lesson taught in the Circle?

“I’m told it’s a part of my charm.”

“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes, “Just–talk to her.“  Aveline advised him, “she listens to you. What do you think happens if she’s caught? Or if anyone else turned their eyes to her? She may not be guilty, but this is where the evidence points. She needs to stay out of trouble and if she won’t listen to me, perhaps she’ll take advice from you.”

“Fine,” He agreed. “I’ll speak with her.” She was the first real friend he’s had since his time fighting alongside The Warden Commander and rest; Anders couldn’t see her rotting in some Templar dungeon or arrested for a crime she may not have even committed.

“That’s all I ask.”

[black-emporium-exchange]

Return of the Pinch Hits

Hello nuglets! We have three (count ‘em, THREE) new pinch hits that need a new home. Can you help out? EDIT: ALL CLAIMED!!

Pinch Hit #1  CLAIMED

Female Hawke/Isabela/Merrill, Fanart, Fanfiction 

Zevran Arainai/Fenris, Fanart, Fanfiction

Male Hawke/Varric Tethras, Fanart, Fanfiction

Isabela/Josephine Montilyet, Fanart, Fanfiction

Female Brosca/Sten, Fanart, Fanfiction

Cassandra Pentaghast/Leliana, Fanart, Fanfiction

Pinch Hit #2 CLAIMED

Male Hawke/Varric Tethras, Fanart, Fanfiction

Gerav/Varric Tethras, Fanfiction

Maevaris Tilani/Vivienne, Fanfiction

Female Hawke/Original Abusive Templars, Fanart, Fanfiction

Female Hawke/Original Qunari Character(s), Fanart, Fanfiction 

Anora Mac Tir/Female Aeducan, Fanfiction

Dorian Pavus/Fenris, Fanfiction

Anders/Morrigan, Fanfiction

Thorold Tethras/Maevaris Tilani, Fanart, Fanfiction 

Pinch Hit #3  CLAIMED

Female Amell/Leliana, Leliana/Female Surana, Fanfiction 

Female Adaar/Lace Harding, Fanart, Fanfiction 

Aveline Vallen/Isabela, Fanart, Fanfiction 

Female Trevelyan/Leliana, Female Lavellan/Leliana, Fanfiction 

Cassandra Pentaghast/Leliana, Fanfiction 

Lace Harding/Josephine Montilyet, Fanart, Fanfiction 

Cassandra Pentaghast/Female Trevelyan, Female Lavellan/Cassandra Pentaghast, Fanart, Fanfiction

Additional details below the cut.

Pinch Hit #1

Letter: n/a

REQUEST 1: Female Hawke/Isabela/Merrill | Fanart | Fanfiction

PROMPT:

Fluff only, please! I'd love to see them having a fun time at the Hanged Man!

No rape mention or incest please! As for DA-specific things: please don't have Hawke/Fen/Varric agree w/ Anders or have romance w/ him. In fact, if you want to pretend like Anders doesn't exist, that's ideal for me! Please no slavery/slavery AUs, torture, or abusive relationships of any kind, especially when writing Fenris! Also, please no Fenris pining for Hawke - if they aren't endgame, that is. And sexy!Merrill is Not My Thing.

REQUEST 2: Zevran Arainai/Fenris | Fanart | Fanfiction

PROMPT:

No smut, please! I want to see happy Fenris! I'm a big fan of domestic! AUs :)

No rape mention or incest please! As for DA-specific things: please don't have Hawke/Fen/Varric agree w/ Anders or have romance w/ him. In fact, if you want to pretend like Anders doesn't exist, that's ideal for me! Please no slavery/slavery AUs, torture, or abusive relationships of any kind, especially when writing Fenris! Also, please no Fenris pining for Hawke - if they aren't endgame, that is. And sexy!Merrill is Not My Thing.

REQUEST 3: Male Hawke/Varric Tethras | Fanart | Fanfiction

PROMPT:

Happy with angst or fluff, but would love a happy ending! Something many years post-fade? Or some flirting spawned from Varric's stories?

No rape mention or incest please! As for DA-specific things: please don't have Hawke/Fen/Varric agree w/ Anders or have romance w/ him. In fact, if you want to pretend like Anders doesn't exist, that's ideal for me! Please no slavery/slavery AUs, torture, or abusive relationships of any kind, especially when writing Fenris! Also, please no Fenris pining for Hawke - if they aren't endgame, that is. And sexy!Merrill is Not My Thing.

REQUEST 4: Isabela/Josephine Montilyet | Fanart | Fanfiction

PROMPT:

Fluff, please! I have a feeling Is/Josephine might not get along... at first, that is ;) aka, give me that Slow Burn.

No rape mention or incest please! As for DA-specific things: please don't have Hawke/Fen/Varric agree w/ Anders or have romance w/ him. In fact, if you want to pretend like Anders doesn't exist, that's ideal for me! Please no slavery/slavery AUs, torture, or abusive relationships of any kind, especially when writing Fenris! Also, please no Fenris pining for Hawke - if they aren't endgame, that is. And sexy!Merrill is Not My Thing.

REQUEST 5: Female Brosca/Sten | Fanart | Fanfiction

PROMPT:

No smut, please! Love fluff, angst, slow burns, and mutual respect. And happy endings!

No rape mention or incest please! As for DA-specific things: please don't have Hawke/Fen/Varric agree w/ Anders or have romance w/ him. In fact, if you want to pretend like Anders doesn't exist, that's ideal for me! Please no slavery/slavery AUs, torture, or abusive relationships of any kind, especially when writing Fenris! Also, please no Fenris pining for Hawke - if they aren't endgame, that is. And sexy!Merrill is Not My Thing.

REQUEST 6: Cassandra Pentaghast/Leliana | Fanart | Fanfiction

PROMPT:

Prompt: Varric's stories lead to Cass/Lel showing their goofy romantic sides!

No rape mention or incest please! As for DA-specific things: please don't have Hawke/Fen/Varric agree w/ Anders or have romance w/ him. In fact, if you want to pretend like Anders doesn't exist, that's ideal for me! Please no slavery/slavery AUs, torture, or abusive relationships of any kind, especially when writing Fenris! Also, please no Fenris pining for Hawke - if they aren't endgame, that is. And sexy!Merrill is Not My Thing.

Pinch Hit #2

Letter: http://kmfillz.dreamwidth.org/2017/09/25/

REQUEST 1: Male Hawke/Varric Tethras | Fanart | Fanfiction

PROMPT:

* Fic

Any trope, any rating. Pining, angst, humor, smut, h/c, huddling for warmth, bed sharing, undercover as a couple, undercover as master/slave, marriage of convenience, sex pollen, fuck or die, bets, drinking games...

DNW: established relationship, Varric rivalry, unhappy or bittersweet endings, poly, futurefic, vilifying Bianca Davri, AUs (except Modern Thedas), 2nd person POV.

* Art

Any style, any rating, as long as it's unambiguously shippy. Fluff, humor, smut all welcome. In smutty art, prefer if Varric tops.

DNW: AUs, anything sad.

REQUEST 2: Gerav/Varric Tethras | Fanfiction

PROMPT:

There's more to this story than Varric told Leliana.

Could take place pre-Bianca Davri, post-Bianca Davri, or as part of a Bianca Davri/Gerav/Varric OT3.

DNW: AUs, infidelity, vilifying Bianca Davri, 2nd person POV.

REQUEST 3: Maevaris Tilani/Vivienne | Fanfiction

PROMPT:

What happens when two powerful women from different societies who have fought their way to the top despite detractors meet? Verbal sparring in the Winter Palace? Magical sparring in the courtyards of Skyhold? Flirting at the spa? Sex on the Sunburst Throne?

DNW transphobia, dysphoria or mourning as major story elements. DNW 2nd person POV or main character death.

REQUEST 4: Female Hawke/Original Abusive Templars, Female Hawke/Original Qunari Character(s) | Fanart | Fanfiction

PROMPT:

Noncon smut, please.

* Apostate Hawke (or a Hawke who has been concealing her apostate sister) has finally been caught red-handed by the Templars, and they are making an example of her. (Templars of either or both genders welcome. Named Templar characters welcome.)

* When Hawke fails to turn over the Tome/Isabela, the Arishok sentences her to an unusual punishment.

DNW 2nd person POV. DNW snuff, maiming, or Tranquillity. Default Hawke preferred.

REQUEST 5: Anora Mac Tir/Female Aeducan | Fanfiction

PROMPT:

I can imagine dozens of different angles on this pairing, and I like them all. Aeducan could be shrewd or gullible, kindhearted or cut-throat, honest or two-faced, stern or soft-spoken, etc., etc. However you interpret this pairing, I'm more interested in how the relationship or rendezvous began than in observing an already established relationship.

A few ideas:

- Perhaps Aeducan admires Queen Anora's deviousness, as a former cut-throat noble herself, and together they form an unstoppable team that turns romantic.

- Perhaps Aeducan has persuaded the Queen that marriage to the sister of the King of Orzammar would be more useful than marrying someone who could sire an heir.

- Perhaps Anora shows up at Fort Drakon herself to rescue the Warden -- or to taunt her.

- Perhaps Queen Anora vacations in Amaranthine, to the delight (or dismay) of the Warden-Commander.

- Perhaps Alistair sits on the throne, and Aeducan visits the defeated former queen in prison.

- Perhaps Alistair was supposed to be sole king but died fighting the archdemon, and now Aeducan has to work with the woman she previously helped dethrone.

DNW 2nd person POV, poly, or main character death. Noncon is OK.

REQUEST 6: Dorian Pavus/Fenris | Fanfiction

PROMPT:

There is no way these two would trust each other the first time they met. They are both prickly as fuck and proud, and Dorian is just about everything Fenris hates. They both ran away from abuse in Tevinter, but Dorian has a very different and much rosier view of his home country, to say the least.

If they can get past that initial dislike of each other, I think they'd get along splendidly, but getting past first impressions and early missteps would be no small hurdle. I am all about watching them navigate that thorny maze.

DNW: 2nd person POV, asexual headcanons, infidelity, unhappy endings.

REQUEST 7: Anders/Morrigan | Fanfiction

PROMPT:

I'd love to see these two arrogant mages trying to one-up each other over who can be more bitter about their crappy upbringing.

There are a number of different ways they could meet. For example, Anders bumping into a fellow acquaintance of the Warden when she's passing through Kirkwall, Morrigan finding a bedraggled fugitive in Orlais, and so on.

DNW 2nd person POV.

REQUEST 8: Thorold Tethras/Maevaris Tilani | Fanart | Fanfiction

PROMPT:

The magister and the dwarf. We don't know a lot about Mae, let alone about her dwarven husband (was his last name even Tethras? Was he exiled to the surface after Andvar's crime, or was he a member of Ambassadoria in good standing?). How did they meet? How did they fall in love? What was a day in their life together like?

DNW transphobia, dysphoria or mourning as major story elements. DNW 2nd person POV.

Pinch Hit #3

Letter: n/a

REQUEST 1: Female Amell/Leliana, Leliana/Female Surana | Fanfiction

PROMPT:

Any Warden is good! I'd love something of Leliana trying to deal with the Warden's realization she has to sacrifice herself to kill the Archdemon. Can be in-canon or extend post-canon; Warden can survive or not. Maybe the outcome has an impact on the person Leliana evolves into after DA:O? That said, absolutely any and all Leliana character development stuff is welcome -- maybe focusing on how she evolves away from the person who was taken in by Marjolaine, or the person who took refuge in that Lothering Chantry, or how she deals with being in Ferelden and reconciles that with how she remembers her Ferelden mother.

REQUEST 2: Female Adaar/Lace Harding | Fanart | Fanfiction

PROMPT:

Tag says it all. Write me the romance Harding should've had with the Inquisitor, make size a thing. Sex or romance or both, sex welcome but not necessary, no non-con or dubcon please. If you want more inspo, for some reason I've got this thing about the Deep Roads -- maybe Adaar takes Harding for all she's worth against those cold stone walls and Harding is sure glad she's a surface dwarf but her ancestors would've been proud, or something.

REQUEST 3: Aveline Vallen/Isabela | Fanart | Fanfiction

PROMPT:

I'd love filthy, throwdown sex for this. Ideally a gradual seduction where Aveline is highly stubborn, shooting down every pass Isabela makes, but Isabela catches her blushing at something she says and slowly chips away at her resolve until Isabela's eating her out on her Captain's desk, or something. I'm not actually particular on how you end it but slowly take Aveline's figurative armor off with flirtation, please.

REQUEST 4: Female Trevelyan/Leliana, Female Lavellan/Leliana | Fanfiction

PROMPT:

Man, I was so disappointed when Leliana wasn't romancable in DA:I. Any Inquisitor is fine. Make Leliana hardened or not -- I just really love Leliana, and exploring her character is really the most important thing here. An interesting idea is to investigate how the Inquisitor's remembrance of Leliana's torture in the "a year in the future" flash-forward, if you side with the mages, affects Inq's relationship with her. Does she tell Leliana about it? Does she keep it a secret but still think of it? Another option: how do Leliana and Inq deal with distance while she's always out and about and Leliana's stuck at Skyhold?

REQUEST 5: Cassandra Pentaghast/Leliana | Fanfiction

PROMPT:

I love love love the idea that these two got reeeeally close as the left and right hands of the Divine. Whether they slept together once in a fit of passion and never spoke of it for years; whether one blamed the other for the Divine's death or for not protecting her; whether sexual tension merely boiled under the surface for years upon years and they never spoke of it until one furious argument in the Inquisition years and the dam finally broke. Some sex would be ideal but okay to hand-wave it! Some plot and background to facilitate pining, please. I just want that burning passion and their belief and faith and desire to serve to undercurrent the whole thing. No noncon.

REQUEST 6: Lace Harding/Josephine Montilyet | Fanart | Fanfiction

PROMPT:

This can kind of be anything! I love Josephine deeply and Harding just as much, I bet they're both frustrated at how they're constantly running around and exchange letters constantly updating each other on gossip and so forth. It can evolve into a romance over time, or it can be smutty, but a bit of plot as well please -- getting to know each other and so on. No dubcon or non-con please. Art can be anything.

REQUEST 7: Cassandra Pentaghast/Female Trevelyan, Female Lavellan/Cassandra Pentaghast | Fanart | Fanfiction

PROMPT:

Any Inq will do! A plotty pining fic would be beyond welcome, but so would something focused on smut. A bit of plot to facilitate the pining preferred. Bonus for focusing on Cassandra's pining, especially while they're on the road or in a meeting, but Inq pining is good too. Bringing Cassandra's pride over her sense of discipline into it is good too. No dubcon or non-con please. For art, blushing Cassandra would be really cool.

[gerechtsein-blog]

JUSTICE SERVED; REDEMPTION AU PROLOGUE

“There he is! Cut him off at the bridge! He can't run forever!”

The mage -- the abomination -- gasped in a huge gulp of air, twisting around to fire a bolt of electric blue magic at its pursuers. It didn't need to breathe (or did it?), but its host did (did he?),so the act was forced, remembered only when it's body began to flag. It leaped over a fallen log, hearing the shouts of the men behind it, to the left. Templars. The red and silver, the flaming sword and starburst on their armor, they gave them away.

And it fled from them. It had been hiding in a little Ferelden village, healing broken bones and colicky babes, helping a cow give birth and other such tasks. And then they had come, breaking down doors and swinging swords, threatening any who harbored rebel mages. So it had stepped forward, to protect the villagers. And had run.

And now he was trapped. They had beat it to the bridge, cutting the ropes and surrounding it in a half-circle in front of the sheer cliffside behind its back, no way across. It looked from face to face, seeing nothing but vicious contempt and hatred, and lifted its arms again, blue light blazing from skin and eyes and hands.

A beat, a breath, and the Templars raised their blades, the steel pulsing as they reasserted reality, breaking its contact with the Fade and leaving its magic to gutter like a dying candle.

“You will not take me!” It snarled, voice ringing in the air.

But even as it fought, it was surrounded. It had nowhere to go except through the Templars or down the cliff, and slowly, beat by beat, step by step and with each swing of a sword and cast of a spell, it was pushed back. And back. And then its foot hit air and he hissed and snarled, and it fell. Its body bruised and bones broke, bouncing down the sheer cliff and colliding with branches and jagged rocks, slamming into the rocky riverside below with a sickening sound, rolling limply into the shallow water. And all went black.

It flickered back to consciousness slowly, feeling chains heavy around its wrists and neck. It strained against them, growling, only to scream out in pain when its wounds wailed in protest. It fought to ignore them, pushed down the pain with a glimmer of magic, and snarled at its captors. “Release me!” It roared.

The lead Templar laughed. “No,” he said, crouching to cup its face in a hand. “You’re an abomination, mage and a rare one. Not a demon at all. My master will want to see you.”

It barely heard him -- its body was wracked with a new agony; a song like lyrium, but not beautiful. It was discordant, cacophonous, horrible and distorted. It shrieked through him from where the Templar’s fingers touched, running through its veins and body and dragging vicious claws through its very being.

It whimpered, trying to focus on the source of the terrible noise. And there was red. Red red red, and it howled in realization. He remembered the red, the red song. The terrible corrupted lyrium that had destroyed the brother of the smiling dwarf, had sent Kirkwall into a madness led by a madwoman. And now it was here, shimmering almost smugly around the necks of these Templars.

It howled again, thrashed heedlessly against his bonds and snarled in rage, but for some reason the awful song drained it of its power, and what little it could muster was keeping its host alive. It eventually stopped, slumping and subdued, and the Templars laughed. “There we go, it’s quiet now,” one of them said. “What do we do with it until we can bring it to the Commander?”

The leader shrugged, grinning wickedly. “Whatever we want,” he said. “Remember, boys. This ain’t the Circle anymore. And it’s not like it’s going to fight back with the red lyrium dampening its magic. As long as it’s still in one piece when the commander gets it, we can pretty much go wild.”

There was another laugh, and deep within the abomination, a memory of terror stirred, of a cold wet cell all alone in the dark, of sneers and bruises and hands and pain. It shoved it down with the rest of the pain it was muffling, though; it couldn’t afford fear. It had to stay strong.

But staying strong was so terribly hard when the Templars brought those buried memories -- someone else’s past, someone familiar and so far away -- back screaming. They laughed, its injuries sang in agony in time with the lyrium’s wailing song, hands touched bare and bruised skin when they weren’t creating the bruises, breaking already broken bones.

It hurt, it hurt so much, and those memories, the ones so familiar and yet so foreign, they tormented it when its eyes closed. Whose memories were these? It didn’t know, but it thought it should. The answer eluded it, slipping out of its grasp like smoke even as it tried to chase it, tried to find answers to all the fragments dancing around its mind. Who was the smiling dwarf the red song made it remember? Who were the others that slipped in and out of the corners of its mind; the redhead knight, the laughing pirate, the little elf girl with a smile like sunshine, the sad-eyed mage girl? The dark-haired woman with the brilliant amber eyes, the dark-skinned elf whose whole being sang? The others, the figures in silver and blue that stood in the shadows and watched?

Who were they? Who had it been? It didn’t remember. It was all smoke and fragments and a need to help and heal.

It fought to recall anything, grasp at the mist and shards of memory in its head and try to know . To find something to hold onto amid the seeming endless pain the Templars brought.

And then. And then, when it could feel its body fading, faltering, heartbeat slowing and breath shallow...it clutched at the shards one more time, one more final desperate bid for something, anything, to ground it in this realm of pain and agony and misery.

And then Justice remembered .

He howled, the noise the only thing he could think to make.  What had he done? What had become of them? Of him, of Anders? After Kirkwall, they had run, tried to hide, and in so doing, in running away, had fallen so far that they had lost themselves. No one had been there to help them, to support them, and they had become an it .

And now they had been captured, tortured, and now Anders was dying. And now Justice could barely do a thing, so bound in red lyrium he was. The Templars had broken his body, and the spirit within could just watch in horror as the last sparks slipped away.

“No!” Justice roared suddenly. No. No, he would not allow this. Anders would not die. He had to face his justice as surely as the spirit had to face his own. And for the mage, his justice was to fix what they had broken. That was the sentence Hawke had passed down surely as any judge. And Justice would not see his friend fail, not here reliving the worst parts of his life, alone in a dark cell.

He heard the chime of armor and the sharp trill of red lyrium, and his eyes narrowed. He knew what he would do. Free him and save him, and that would be the justice he deserved for harming his friend, for causing him pain. He had just wanted to help, just wanted to carry out his purpose, and he had instead become vengeance. And he knew he must make it right.

“I am sorry, Anders,” he murmured, knowing the man wouldn’t hear it. “Live for our sake, and live to see justice done. Real justice.”

The Templars burst into the room, and Justice lit up, eyes blazing and broken body shattering with cracks of light, and every single wisp of being the spirit called his own blazed out of him, an electric blue supernova that engulfed everything.

The man named Anders woke among ashes and rubble. He didn’t know where he was, didn’t know anything for a brief, terrifying moment. And then everything shuddered back into place, and he moaned, closing his eyes against the too-bright sun. Everything hurt, everything ached, but-- oh. Everything else came back to him, and he realized he was alive. His bones were mended, bruises were healed. He ached, and he had scars...but he was whole. And alive.

And alone.

“Justice?” He said softly, sitting up and wrapping thin arms around his bony frame. “Justice?”

There was no answer, and he knew then that there wouldn’t be one.

He let out an animal moan and curled in on himself, pressing hands to his temples and shaking, swallowing sobs. He was alone. His head felt empty, he felt so small and lost. What was he supposed to do without Justice? Everything felt skewed, off-kilter. The world was too big, too bright, too loud.

But he could think; his head was clearer than it had been in years. He could focus. It was hard to fight past the panic quickening his breaths and pressing against his skull, but he tried to think. Memories were sorted like shuffling cards back in place, everything going where it should. Varric, Aveline, Isabela, Merrill, Bethany. Hawke, Fenris. The Warden-Commander and the others. The Ferelden Circle, Amaranthine, Kirkwall. Templars and fleeing and freedom and then Justice. And then the Cause, and then corruption turning him inwards and cutting out distractions -- food, sleep, friends, love -- one by one until he was alone as the ashes of the Chantry cooled.

And here he was now. Captured by Templars who sung red and wrong, tortured in every way he had always feared, left broken and dying...and then Justice had sacrificed everything the spirit was to make him live. And if the debris was any indication, he had burned out the whole damn building to do it. He was almost proud.

He stood, shuddering. He was cold -- all he wore was a thin and shabby tunic and pants, patched and threadbare to go with old scuffed boots, and his health was still poor even with the healed wounds (self-inflicted starvation had made a scarecrow out of him, all limbs and sunken cheeks). And he hurt. His body ached and his mind was on the razor’s edge of panic, and his soul was raw and exposed, as if Justice’s final blaze had left it wide open behind him.

He swallowed, stumbling through the destroyed building, and out the door, leaning against a tree. Where was he? He glanced up, squinting, and the night sky told him somewhere south. Ferelden? Probably. Near the Frostbacks, maybe. He shuddered, shaking his head. What was he supposed to do now?

He pressed his head against the rough bark, trying to think, and like a bolt of lightning it hit him. Fix things. Make it right. The Chantry, the destruction...Maker, they had been such fools. Justice had convinced him he knew what was right for all mages, that this was the only choice and that they would all rally with him. And he had corrupted justice into vengeance with the pain and anger he’d tried so hard to lock away behind his smiles and jokes. And now the only thing he could do was try to put the pieces back together. Nothing would be the same, but he could try.

He had to try. This was why Hawke had spared him, right? To make up for what he’d done. And coward he was, he’d hid and nearly destroyed himself. He straightened, wincing as his aching body protested. First he’d find the nearest town, get some food and sleep, and then he’d figure out where to go from there.

But wherever he went...he’d help. He’d try to fix things.

Because that’s why he was alive, after all. So that’s what he’d do. No more running -- he’d make this right.