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greypetrel · 2 years ago

Note

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

Hello! ✨

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

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

Tis the prompt list

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe the answer was on the bottom of that glass.

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

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

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

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

“You know me, I live to serve.”

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

“He wished.”

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

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

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

“What for.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly, why.”

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

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

“I should thank you for coming back.”

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

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

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

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

The work on her hand stopped.

“I am sorry. I… I was busy.”

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

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

“Merrill told me.”

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

“She told me about you. And her.”

“… Ah.”

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

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

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

“What about…?”

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

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

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

“There, good as new. And that’s it.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow.”

“I see.”

“It’s… I can’t stay here, Hawke.”

“I understand.”

“Castillon’s men will look for me.”

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You did.”

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

“It makes sense.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… Goodbye, Hawke. Thank you.”

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

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

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

#dragon age #dragon age 2 #dragon age fic #hawke x isabela #hawkebela #female hawke x isabela #raina hawke #writing petrel

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fademirrored · 1 year ago

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gamma: Champion of Kirkwall

“I changed me. No one else. Just me, with my own blood and hands. If no one else is getting hurt, then why do you care so much?”

Madrigal “Madry” Hawke (“Snowflake” if you’re Varric) Champion of Kirkwall. Mostly Purple, kind of Red.

Genderfluid. Usually they/them, sometimes he/him or she/her. Pansexual demiromantic, polyamorous. 19 Solace, 9:14 Dragon. Lothering, Ferelden. Mage; Force and Blood magic.

Eyes: Golden amber. Hair: Pure, matte white. Smooth, slightly curly, down past the middle of their back. Shaved on the left side of their head eventually. Skin: Literally white as paper, and eerily free of any marks or scars. Height: 6'3" Build: Willowy, tall, and lean. Broadest at the shoulders, but still not particularly huge. Sort of a sinewy beanpole with a dancer’s build. Notable Details: Radiates magically-projected auras of ‘you aren’t sure why, but you find me sort of charming’ and ‘whatever I may be doing, I’m not your problem.’ their presence requires a wisdom saving throw Voice: J. Michael Tatum.

Positives: Open-minded to basically everyone except for Chantry folk. Willing to be pragmatic about second chances, even if they don’t necessarily like someone. Can see the big picture, hardworking; willing to handle the work they keep getting dragged into handling. Charismatic and well-spoken; they could probably talk you out of your favorite heirloom for the equivalent of 10 cents and a can of tuna and you would still come away thinking you got the better end of the deal. Patient and slow to anger, and generally fairly low-key even once they do get angry. Negatives: Manipulative and pushy, and fairly good at making it seem like their ideas are actually your ideas. They don’t go blatantly trampling over boundaries, but they nevertheless constantly broadcast a pair of magical glamors that alter perception. Something of a two-faced, catty shit heel. Generally anxious and feels as if they have no control over their life because they are perpetually being dragged into others’ problems; best described as ‘What anxiety? I have CHEEKBONES!’ Neutrals: Extroverted. Social. Chatty. Very flirtatious. Good actor. Calm. Low empathy. Pragmatic. Optimist vs. Pessimist: Optimistic, but willing to get their hands dirty to achieve it. Quirks: Astounding pain threshold. Very still most of the time; they move very deliberately with very few unnecessary gestures unless they’re putting on an act. They are convinced that they have a temper that they don’t actually have, and they are, without fail, mortified on the few occasions their feelings get away from them.

Religion: Atheist. Likes: Dogs. Horses. Clothing, fashion, textiles. Jewelry. Jewels, gems, shiny rocks in general. Flowers. Music. Feeling creative. Chocolate, sweets in general. Coffee. Dislikes: Feeling rushed or controlled. People immediately taking their flirting too seriously. Getting the whole ‘the Circle is good, all blood mages want is demons, all blood magic is evil’ spiel too many times over a short period. People they don’t know touching their hair. Most alcohol. Favorite Colors: Cobalt blue. Indigo. Iris purple. Wine red. Hobbies: Sewing, weaving, knitting, designing. Dancing. Cards. Gambling. Gardening.

Family: Leandra Hawke (mother, deceased). Malcolm Hawke (father, deceased). Bethany (sister, deceased). Carver (brother). Gamlen (uncle). Charade (cousin). Dog: Grim, shaggy mountain mabari. Other Critters: Kelpie, mare acquired post-DA2. Romance: Isabela. Friends: Merrill. Aveline. Varric. Note: Liked Anders and Fenris, but butted heads with them OFTEN. Loved Carver dearly, but they tended to hurt each others feelings by existing at each other. Thought Sebastian was a pompous blowhard. *everything in this sectioncan of course be tweaked or disregarded entirely for specific threads, if you’d rather.

#Cryptid Crossing [Madry]#darp #dragon age rp

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solcamilo · 3 years ago

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Hi!! I know I already commented on your post but ah I’m so excited to see more from you!!! I have a request if you don’t mind, it’s more angst tho…sorry not sorry it’s us being trapped inside of casita as she’s (I think it’s a she?) crumbling and Camilo shouting our name after either picking himself off the ground or fighting his way back inside? I don’t know it’s up to you but the main part is he sees us trapped against one of the pillars, a dresser or some heavy furniture pinning us against it that we were struggling and failing to push away because the floorboards were all moving in those waves to get everyone outside and the house was so concerned between that and saving mirabel it didnt have enough strength to assist us too. I just want to see him get worried and frantic before helping us out, you know all intense and stuff. THIS IS SO LONG I APOLOGIZE BUT IVE HAD THIS STUCK IN MY HEAD AND AFTER READING YOUR FIC I NEW YOU WERE THE PERSON I NEEDED TO BRING IT TO LIFE

thank you so much for your request! you have no idea how happy your comments on my other story made me!! that was the first time i wrote something so your support means so so much :’) hope you like it <3

i’ve got you

camilo madrigal x gen!reader

word count: 2k

request? yes!

warning(s): angst again!! happy ending tho, reader gets trapped so maybe claustrophobia, mild swearing, makeout? (not rly), angry mirabel and abuela >:(, not beta-d we die like casita

summary: you and camilo happened to return to casita at the worst possible moment and while trying to save mirabel, you get trapped under casita’s ruins.

You and Camilo had just finished drying yourselves off with your towels after a quick swim out in the river. You had spent the whole day with your beloved boyfriend and were ready to call it a day, especially when the sun had now slowly set below the tall Encanto mountains.

But before you could end your day, you had to end it properly and that meant stealing some of Julieta’s food along with your boyfriend. And that’s exactly what you did.

You two were cracking jokes and laughing all the way to Casita when you heard yells coming from the matriarch of the family. You immediately knew that this meant bad news as you had never seen Abuela yell like that to someone in your entire lifespan. Camilo knew it too by the way he softly, yet firmly held your wrist, slightly pulling you behind him as the two of you cautiously walked into the main clearing of Casita.

Your heart broke at the sight of your good friend Mirabel Madrigal getting relentlessly blamed and yelled at for all the misfortunes that were happening to the familia Madrigal in the last few days. You turned to see who was around, and made eye contact with a colourful, bright - yet guilty looking Isabela standing off to the side.

What you heard next completely shocked both you, Camilo and the entire Madrigal family on the sidelines.

“You’re the one that doesn’t care!” Mirabel shouted at her abuela with tears brimming her eyes. You gasped and felt Camilo’s grasp on your wrist tighten. Abuela looked even more furious than from the beginning of the whole argument as she took a closer step towards Mirabel.

“You’re the one breaking our home!”

“Don’t you ever..-!”

“The miracle is dying, because of you!”

And that’s when you all heard it. The terrifying rumble of Casita’s cracks all across the walls and foundation pillars. The rumble was so loud and so forceful that the windowsill that was displaying the miracle candle collapsed and the candle fell backwards, rolling on the broken wood.

Everyone felt the pure panic coursing their veins as the candle was merely rolling, about to fall. The panic induced silence was broken when Félix shouted, “The candle!” with a small gasp.

As soon as Félix had said that, everyone’s legs started to automatically move towards the source of miracle, trying desperately to save what has been already hurt. Your legs, however, were planted on the ground next to your - now long gone - boyfriend Camilo.

“Casita! Get me up there!” you heard Mirabel yell as she ran towards the makeshift ladders that Casita gave her. You had only just rendered the severity of the situation and how it could play out for Mirabel if anything had happened to her and that’s what finally triggered your legs to move.

“Mirabel!” you yelled at the top of your lungs, running towards the girl who was trying to save the essence of the Madrigal family.

“Mirabel! Please! Get down!” You were almost at the makeshift ladder when Casita’s ceiling pieces had started falling on the ground right where you were. You quickly pushed yourself against a wall with a large plate and cup storing furniture piece, your back tightly against it as you panted heavily from all the running you had done.

You saw Isabela’s vine giving out and her falling on the ground a few feet away from you. You also saw Camilo falling right next to Isabela a few seconds later as his gift too, gave out.

You were too distracted by the two Madrigals to notice how Casita’s rolling of the floors brought a giant piece of wall directly on you with a loud smack. You fell down against the large furniture piece as the wall was now laying on top of you, giving you practically no room to move.

After a while you stopped hearing yelling and you stopped hearing the house breaking. You didn’t have the strength to try to lift the wall off of you nor did you have the strength to open your mouth and ask for help. You just lay there, hoping for someone to realise that you were gone and help you out.

Camilo looks around and sees the state in which Casita was or what remained of Casita anyways. He saw his family all huddled close together whispering words of encouragement to each other and lightly smiled. Even during these difficult times his family still found a way to reassure each other and always be there for each other.

He reached to his left side to grab your hand and lead you to where everyone else was but he realised you weren’t by his side. He also slowly realised that Mirabel wasn’t there either, by the way his tía, tío and everyone else were frantically searching for her.

He felt his heart beating in his chest erratically, his palms grew sweaty and shaky and his legs felt impossibly light, ready to give up on him at any moment. Camilo was terrified. Because he not only lost his beloved prima, but he also lost the love of his life, his vida.

He ran towards his immediate family, grabbed his mother by her shoulders and started yelling at her, tears pricking his eyes from fear.

“Mamá where is Y/N? Where are they?!” Pepa’s eyes grew wide and with a quick scan of the area as she too, as well as the rest of his family, realised that you were also gone.

“Y/N!” Camilo had started screaming your name as he ran around the whole perimeter of the area. He screamed and screamed until he felt his throat go dry from the combination of dust and yelling. The others too were calling your name and Mirabel’s as they were trying to locate you.

Dolores came to sit next to the now hunched and sobbing figure of her little brother, rubbing circles on his back to soothe him. Camilo shrugged her off with force, standing up to walk away from her. She quickly grabbed his forearm and pulled him to face her.

“Dolores stop!” Camilo snapped as he pulled his forearm away from her. He looked up at her, his face covered in dust and tears. “This isn’t doing anything to help! I don’t know where Y/N or Mirabel are and I don’t know what to do! What if something happened to them? What if something happened to Y/N? I was too concerned with the candle to protect Y/N and now look! They are nowhere to be found! My one job as their boyfriend was to protect them and I couldn’t fucking do it! I am a horrible fucking boyfriend! If they’re hurt or dead it’s all my fault..” Camilo broke down once again, violent sobs leaving his body as he kneeled down on the ground, hoisting himself up with elbows as he buried his hands in his - now dusty and grey - hair.

Dolores could only look at him in pity as she kneeled in front of him once more, pulling him into her embrace. Camilo didn’t move away from her this time, he only buried himself deeper into his hermana’s warm and welcoming arms.

“Manito we will find them. Both of them. I promise you we will find them. We already sent a rescue team to find Mira, we will find Y/N too.” Dolores let out softly.

“Can’t you try to hear them?” Camilo mumbled in her arms.

Dolores sighed and tried to extend her ear as she always does, trying to locate any sound - anything really - that she could identify as you. But nothing.

“No.” she had said for the first time, “I can’t hear them. I’m sorry manito.”

That was until they heard some rustling going on behind them. Luisa turned to look at Dolores who had the same curious look as she did. Dolores left her brother to calm down as she and her prima cautiously walked up to the furniture with their expensive silverware they used for Mariano’s dinner.

They heard the rustling again. Then they heard faint “help”s. Then they grew louder. Dolores immediately recognized your voice and rushed with Luisa to the wall. They hurriedly lifted the wall just enough for you to crawl out of the cramped space and let it go, once again hitting the dresser with a loud bam.

You started coughing the dust that had accumulated in your throat, too busy to realise Luisa’s “there you are!” and “are you ok?”s.

You looked around and saw Camilo and Dolores just a few feet across from you.

It was as if Camilo could feel your stare because he swiftly turned around and made eye contact with you (after Dolores had told him that they found you of course). He ran up to you and engulfed you in a hug, his arms wrapping tightly and protectively around your dusty and exhausted frame.

“Mi vida! I’m so glad you’re okay! Dios mio you have no idea how scared I was.. what would I have done if I lost you?”

“Cami,” you pulled away to look at him, noticing how red his eyes were from crying and his teared stained dusty cheeks, “I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me anymore I’m here with you ok? I’m here..” you cupped his face and smiled.

“Y/N I should have been here to protect you! I’m a horrible boyfriend I promised to help you and I didn’t, I’m sorry. I don’t deserve you..” Camilo shifted his eyes to the ground.

“You did what you had to do to save the candle. You’re one of the bravest people I know, Camilo Madrigal. You’ve helped me and protected me all throughout our relationship and I couldn’t be more grateful. You are an amazing boyfriend Cami and you’re an amazing person.”

You contemplated about dropping the big phrase. Should you do it? Isn’t it too early? What if you scare him away or what if he doesn’t feel the same way? You had to, though. After what you went through today you knew that you had to tell him.

“Camilo I love you.”

He lifted his eyes to meet yours in complete shock. His mouth grew wide open as he stared at your eyes, trying to process if what you told him was real or just his imagination. When he realised this was reality, he closed his mouth, stretched his hands to now cup your face and pulled you into a kiss.

You guys had kissed before sure, but never like this. This kiss was pure emotion. Pure desperation, pure love and pure passion. This kiss held all of the emotions that the two of you held from today’s events and from the days leading up to this. You were both irrevocably and unconditionally in love with each other and that translated through this kiss.

He lightly nibbled down on your lower lip, making you open your mouth more. He wasted no time in entering his tongue, exploring your mouth and your own tongue as you fought for dominance. His hands moved from your face to gripping your hips tightly as he pulled you on to his lap and chest to chest with him. Your hands moved from cupping his face to tangling your fingers in his dusty curls and tugging on them every few seconds, earning low groans from him.

His mouth left yours as he started planting open mouth sloppy kisses starting from your temple all the way down to your neck and the base of your collarbones. You giggled at his touch, leaning your head to the side for more exposure.

With a smile, he pulled back and connected his forehead with your own.

“I love you so much, mi amor. So so so much.” With that he pulled you in for another heated kiss.

Amongst the ruins of the Casita, you two had found some closure and despite the circumstances, the two of you couldn’t be happier.

WOW

#camilo x y/n #camilo x reader #camilo imagine #camilo supremacy #encanto camilo #camilo #camilo madrigal #camilo angst #camilo madrigal x gender neutral reader #camilo madrigal x reader #camilo my beloved #encanto x reader #encanto angst #encanto #we don't talk about bruno #no se habla de bruno #i tried to make it as angsty as i could #im a sucker for fluff tho :(#solcamilo

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glasvera · 2 years ago

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Partner Swap (Day 2)

Isabela x Zevran & Fenris x Fem!Hawke

Description: Smutember Day 2!!! (Just pretend it's 2 days ago it's fine) Before Zevran leaves after killing the pursuant Antivan Crows, he offers a proposition to the Champion of Kirkwall. Fenris outright refuses, but Isabela is more than ready. Hawke can’t deny her attraction to the former assassin, and she’s seen Fenris’s gaze linger on their pirate companion more than once, so she offers a proposition.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ only, Minors DNI!!!) vaginal sex, fingering, oral (F and M receiving)

A/N: this is the first time I've written for Dragon Age in like... 7? 8 years? It was nice to go back to some of my fanfiction roots. But as with all of these prompts, it's mostly unedited. Just pure word spewing.

Word Count: 3876

“That depends. How much do you want to test that luck of yours?” Fenris’s gaze was that of cold steel as he stared down the Antivan elf in front of them, the sand crunching under his boots as he stepped forward possessively. Hawke huffed quietly to herself in mild frustration as her lover shot down the proposition before she’d gotten a say herself, shooting him a glance out of the corner of her eye.

Hawke was by no means unfaithful. She just grew up with a starkly different idea of what sex meant in the terms of a relationship, and she was more than a little excited to find a kindred soul in Zevran. The adrenaline of the recent fight was still pumping through her veins, and she’d be lying if she hadn’t fantasized about a few different scenarios upon being asked such a question.

“Well if you lot aren’t going to fuck him, then I suppose I will,” Isabella offered bluntly as she walked up from behind the two of them.

“Ah, Isabela! It would be my pleasure,” Zevran replied with a curt bow of his head.

The pirate rolled her eyes at his gesture. “There better be some pleasure in it for me as well, or I won’t be sticking around for long,” she chided as they began to walk away. “I’ll catch up with you all later!” she called back with a wave of her hand.

Hawke crossed her arms with a grimace, disappointed in the outcome but not wanting to show it too much on her face.

“That girl has curious standards,” Varric observed, breaking the awkward silence in the group.

Hawke shrugged her shoulders. “I can kind of see it.”

Fenris stepped in front of her, looking at her as though she’d grown a second head. “You can’t be serious?” he snapped.

“What can I say?” she retorted, gesturing to him, “I have a type.”

He snarled at that. “Don’t even think about comparing me to him. We are nothing alike.”

Hawke cocked her head to the side, holding up a fist as she started counting on her fingers. “Tall, lithe, handsome, mysterious, sharp features, puppy eyes-”

“There are no puppy eyes,” he interrupted with a bark.

Varric chuckled as he watched their spat. “She’s got you pegged there, Broody.”

Fenris’s head snapped towards him, staring daggers at the dwarf as the lyrium flared in his markings with their telltale blue glow.

Varric raised his hands defensively, slowly backing away. “Alright, alright. I’ll be over here. Let you guys work this out,” he stated, heading over to one of the newly vacant tents left by the Crows.

“Fenris, what is your problem? It’s just sex,” Hawke complained. “Two attractive people appreciating each other’s attractiveness.”

His icy stare was redirected at her as his hands balled into fists. “Just sex? So did we just have sex then?” There was a hint of betrayal in his voice that made Hawke’s heart clench.

“Of course not!” she reassured, taking his hands in hers. “You’ve always been more than that to me. You know that.”

“And what if this Crow becomes more than just sex?” he asked, his tone laced with worry as his gaze softened. Ah. There were the puppy eyes.

Hawke sighed, shoulders dropping slightly. “Do you want more than sex when you look at Isabela?” She couldn’t help but snort when his eyes flashed open in defiant surprise. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring. It doesn’t bother me, you know,” she spoke softly as she brought a hand up to brush his cheek softly.

Shamed, he avoided her gaze and turned his head to the side. “Hawke, I…”

“Hey,” she stopped him as she rested her hands on his shoulders. “How about we forget all this, and…” she gave him a little wink as she nodded her head in the direction of their departed companions, “go take care of some of our more… unique desires?” She bit her lip as she stared at him, waiting for him to meet her gaze again and consider her proposal.

He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow in thought for a moment as Hawke waited with baited breath. Blinking slowly, he finally looked back up at her.

“Just sex?” he asked, face twisting slightly as the unfamiliar concept left his lips.

Hawke nodded. “Just sex.”

-------

Fenris had his hand firmly clasped around Hawke’s as they strolled between the rocky outcrops towards Zevran and Isabela’s tent. It looked rather spacious, likely something akin to a commander’s tent or whatever the Antivan Crow equivalent might be. Before they had even rounded the corner towards it, his face began to heat up as he heard Isabela practically screaming Zevran’s name like a prayer.

He moved to turn around and go back whence they came. “Perhaps this was a bad ide-”

Hawke gripped his hand tighter and pulled him into her, crashing her lips to his. Instinctively, his other hand clawed at her waist and held her fast against him. The familiarness of her taste, her plush lips against his own, coupled with the sounds of the nearby lovemaking began to set a fire ablaze in his loins. He growled into her mouth and released her hand to grab the back of her head, lacing his fingers through her hair and pulling slightly. Hawke gasped against his lips as she smirked at his roughness.

“I think this was a great idea,” she teased, bringing a hand to cup his already hardening cock through his skin tight pants.

Fenris retaliated by biting her bottom lip, tugging it slightly as he angled his head to better devour her. They were so absorbed in themselves and feeling each other that they had yet to notice the moans subsiding and the flap of the tent opening next to them.

“Oh? Looks like we’re not the only ones having fun after all,” Isabela chortled as she watched the two of them.

“I’ve always been told I have a way with my lovemaking, but never did I think I could have this effect on others,” Zevran chuckled, lounging brazenly with his half hard cock out on display and Isabela’s slick decorating his face.

Fenris and Hawke snapped back to reality and pulled away from each other quickly, startled by their new voyeurs.

“Don’t stop on our account,” Zevran teased as he began to stroke himself. She stammered and struggled to say something in return, but Hawke’s eyes couldn’t help but be glued to the motions of his hand. Zevran took notice and raised a brow at the realization. “Unless you see something you like after all…?”

Meanwhile, Fenris was fighting for dear life to look Isabela in the eyes and not at her ample bosom. She chuckled and swayed her breasts back and forth, biting her lip as she gazed up at him through her long lashes as his Adam's apple bobbed with a gulp. “I think they both do, Zev.”

Hawke cleared her throat, suddenly feeling incredibly parched. “I, that is, we would like to erm… join you both?” she offered shyly. She felt herself getting weak in the knees at the sight of the assassin naked as the day he was born. “But we would like to, well,” she swallowed, gathering her thoughts, “we’d like to switch if that’s alright?”

“My dear Champion, I’m afraid I do not catch your meaning,” Zevran replied with a sly smirk as he ran the pad of his thumb across the tip of his dick.

“I would have Isabela, if you would have Hawke,” Fenris finally spoke up, now openly staring at the pirate’s chest.

“Oh! Now you are speaking my language!” Zevran chimed before gesturing at the two of them, “but you are both far too dressed for the occasion!” He stood up and strolled up to Hawke, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Do not fret, my angel. I am rather skilled in the disrobing of others,” he whispered with a wink.

Hawke felt frozen in place as her eyes traced the contours of his face. Zevran chuckled as he began to unclasp the buckles and unravel the straps of her outer armor.

“So tense! This should be a time for relaxation.” He placed a kiss upon her soft lips, earning a soft whine as he copped a feel of her chest through her clothes while discarding her breastplate. He was seemingly an expert at both removing clothes as well as turning every delicate touch into a sensuous caress that sent heat straight to her core. He buried his face in the crook of her neck as he continued lower, sucking on a spot behind her ear as she keened.

Fenris’s ears twitched at hearing the pleasured sounds of his lover, somehow only turned on further by them as he began to approach Isabela. She stood up in front of him, placing a hand on his chest as she ran it lazily across his body while she walked around him. Pressing herself against his back, she danced her fingers across the planes of his chest and stomach, slowly trailing them lower. Fenris groaned at the feeling of Isabela’s breasts through the thin leather of his armor. He hissed as her fingers traced the outline of his cock while her other hand began to remove his armor as well.

“Oh my, I knew you would be a big one,” Isabela giggled as her breath tickled his ear. She pulled away from him to finish removing his upper armor, whistling as the taut muscles of his chest and back were revealed to her. “Hawke! It should be a crime to keep all of this to yourself,” she chastised jokingly as she immediately began to run her hands along his body again. She followed the lines of his tattoos with her finger, and they thrummed with a gentle glow at the attention.

Breaking out of his initial fog, Fenris began to reciprocate her touch. His eyes followed his hands as he felt the smooth skin under his fingers. He pulled her in by the waist, earning a soft squeak of surprise as his lips met hers. She tasted like spiced wine and smoke, and she was definitely more experienced at kissing than Hawke was. One of his hands reached up and palmed her breast, grunting into the kiss as he felt himself strain against his trousers.

Zevran had already led Hawke back into the tent, lying her down against the bedroll as he began to roll her pants down her legs with tantalizing slowness. She braced herself up on her elbows as she watched him, entranced by the way his every movement was stoking the flames of her arousal. She knew she would be dripping even before he removed her smalls but gasped all the same as the cool breeze of the open tent blew against her sopping core.

“My,” he admired as he stared at her openly as her chest heaved, “I have had many a conquest in my time, but you are sure to be one I will think back on often.”

Hawke blushed as he hovered over her, cock hanging low just above her entrance. He stopped for a moment, pondering something as Hawke lie back in wait. His eyes darted about the spacious tent before stopping on what appeared to be a large mirror in the far corner.

“Ah, yes. That will do.”

Isabela broke away from the kiss to watch her Antivan friend as he positioned the mirror in front of himself and Hawke. “Your vanity never ceases to amaze, Zevran,” she chastised as she fell to her knees in front of Fenris.

“This is just as much for me as it is for our lovely Champion!” he retorted. “It is only fair she gets to see both my beauty as well as hers during our coupling.”

Hawke blushed as he returned to her, offering her a hand for her to sit up. She complied and he pulled her into a kiss, his hands grabbing her ass as he squeezed the ample flesh in his fingers. He opened his eyes for a moment to watch in the mirror the way his nimble fingers groped her backside.

Fenris’s eyes widened as he watched the pirate drop in front of him, watching as she began to pull his pants and smalls down in one go. His cock bent uncomfortably for a moment before bobbing free and at attention in front of her face. She hummed contently before taking him in hand, stroking him languidly as his head fell back for a moment. When her mouth enveloped the tip of him, he let out a low, throaty moan.

“My, your lover truly makes the prettiest noises,” Zevran observed as he motioned for Hawke to turn around towards the mirror.

“Wait until you hear the way he growls,” Hawke replied as she reminisced about their previous sessions. “I swear I could cum from just his voice alone,” she chuckled.

“Now that I would pay to see, my dear,” he laughed as he massaged his palms into her shoulders and back. He reached his hands around to cup her breasts, relishing in the way her breath hitched when he tugged on her nipples. His cock nestled against the curve of her ass as he began to grind into her, trailing one hand down as he teased a finger at her wetness. She whimpered in his hold, bringing a hand up around his neck as the other held fast to his wrist as he toyed with her folds. He circled two of his fingers around his clit, making her buck into his hand as he peppered kisses along her shoulder and neck.

Fenris braced a hand against Isabela’s head as she took him fully into her mouth, sucking on him with wet, sloppy sounds as she leaned her hands on his thighs. He thrust into her lightly, not wanting to gag her, but found it harder and harder to control himself as she did her best to swirl her tongue around his shaft and licked at the tip with every thrust out. His fingers threaded themselves through her hair as her bandana slipped off, and he watched as she stared up at him, enraptured as she was by the way his face contorted in pleasure.

She pulled off him suddenly with a pop, laughing at his confused expression. “As much as I’d love to swallow every last drop,” she began, noting the way his eyes darkened at her words, “I’d much rather feel every last inch of you inside of me.” She stood up, taking his hand in hers as she led him back into the tent with Zevran and Hawke.

Zevran had already lined himself up with her entrance, sliding into her as he gently pushed her back forward and encouraged her to position herself on all fours. She keened at the feeling of him stretching inside her, her arousal amplified as she watched herself in the mirror and saw the way Zevran’s jaw dropped slightly.

Isabela twisted them around as they approached the adjacent bedroll, nearly throwing Fenris to the ground on his back as she straddled on top of him. She wasted no time as she positioned herself over him, sinking down onto his cock as she let out a moan at the feeling. Fenris was speechless, brow furrowing as he instinctively placed his hands on her hips. She bounced up and down on him, breathy moans spilling out of her mouth with every thrust.

“Hawke,” she gasped out between thrusts, “I say this with all the love in my heart, but-Oh! Fenris, fuck,” she interrupted herself as he began snapping his hips up into her from below, hitting a spot that made her eyes roll back, “you are a greedy whore for keeping him all to yourself until now.”

Hawke giggled between her own whimpers as Zevran began to fuck her. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the mirror, locking eyes with him as he grinned devilishly at her. He leaned forward, pushing her further down to the ground until her chest was flush with the blankets.

“Give me your arms, sweetheart,” he commanded, and she complied as she balanced her weight on her head and shoulders long enough to reach her arms back behind her. Zevran grabbed her wrists in his hands, pulling her towards him and using them as leverage as he began to fuck her harder. Every thrust was hitting her perfectly and she was almost certain she was seeing stars.

“Oh! Fuck! Zevran!” She couldn’t hold her voice back any longer as she began to scream his praises, her head thrown back as her hair fell in her face.

Zevran huffed with his exertions as he lost himself to the pleasure, watching in the mirror as her breasts bounced in time with the snapping of his hips.. “There are those sweet angelic noises I yearned for,” he chuckled as he picked up his pace, sweat beading on his forehead.

Fenris turned towards Hawke, watching the way her lips parted with each gasp and moan. She felt his gaze on her and glanced at him from the corners of her eyes with a love drunk smile that he couldn’t help but return.

“I hope you haven’t forgotten about me so quickly, Fenris,” Isabella chided as she braced her hands on his chest. Her breasts hung in front of his face as her ass bounced up and down with a renewed vigor.

“As if you’d ever let anyone forget about you,” he shot back as he grabbed one of her breasts in his hand and sucked her nipple into his mouth. She gasped as her pace stuttered, and he snaked his other hand between her legs to toy with her clit.

“Shit!” Isabela cursed, feeling herself getting close. Fenris felt the way her walls fluttered around him and knew he couldn’t hold on much longer either. While laving his tongue around her nipple, he adjusted the angle of his thrusts until he knew from her keening that he’d hit the right spot, hammering into it while pleasuring her clit until she was seeing stars. “Shit, fuck, shit! Fenris!” she nearly screamed his name as she came around him, her whole body shuddering as she nearly fell on top of him.

He pulled away from her chest as he wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her flush to him as he pounded into her from below. Almost animalistic growls were drawn from his lips as he chased his own release, flipping them over halfway through so that she was beneath him as he continued. Isabela couldn’t help but be enamored by the way he bared his teeth in a snarl and screwed his eyes shut as he focused on the pleasure. His tattoos glowed brightly, flashing fiercely as his thrusts began to falter. He pulled out of her quickly, moving to take himself in hand until she swatted him away with her own and began stroking him fervently. His eyes flashed open as he watched her, huffing before finally cumming hard all over her stomach and tits. A rope of it landed on her lips and she licked it off, winking at him as she did so.

Zevran, never one to be shown up in acts of a sexual nature, yanked Hawke up by the arms so that she was on her knees with her arms and back flush against his chest. His thrusts never ceased and he used the new angle to capture her wrists in one hand while the other moved to rub her clit. He buried his face in the crook of her neck as he kissed and sucked marks into her skin.

“So beautiful,” he breathed as she whined and whimpered under his ministrations. “I can feel you getting close.” He looked over to Fenris who was watching her, completely enraptured by the sight of her completely losing herself on Zevran’s cock. “Would you like to assist her, my newfound friend?”

Hawke found it difficult to speak as she was left powerless and subject to his manhandling, and her head was spinning from the pleasure. Sure enough, she could feel the knot building in her core as he kept hitting her just right, but it wasn’t quite enough. She peeked through one eye just in time to see Fenris approach and he took her head in both hands, kissing her passionately as Zevran continued pounding into her. She gasped into his mouth and he took the opportunity, shoving his tongue in her mouth as he entwined it with hers. Her moans were lost in his mouth, turned into little more than pathetic squeaks and whimpers as she neared her peak.

“Can’t let you two have all of the fun,” Isabela commented as she came up to them, maneuvering between Fenris and Hawke as she propped herself on one elbow. She shooed Zevran’s hand away before gripping Hawke’s thigh and placing her lips on the woman’s clit, earning a high pitched squeal as she bucked into Zevran behind her. The pirate chuckled as she began to suck at the bud and swirl her tongue around it, occasionally dipping her tongue low enough to lick at the shaft of Zevran’s cock as it pistoned in and out.

Zevran hissed at the added stimulation. “You are truly a minx, my dear Isabela.”

Isabela simply giggled as she continued, the vibrations sending shocks through Hawke’s body as she felt herself getting dangerously close. Fenris’s kisses grew greedier as he listened to her coming undone, bringing his hands up to cup and massage her breasts. He pulled away for a moment, pressing his forehead against hers as she bounced from the thrusts.

“Are you going to cum for us, my love?”

She opened her eyes to look into his, gasping softly at the way he looked at her, his pupils blown out with lust. All of the sensations of Zevran’s cock pounding into her walls and Isabela’s practiced lips on her clit coupled with the familiarity of Fenris’s hands and eyes on her sent her over the edge, convulsing as she cried out in ecstasy. Zevran let out a low moan before pulling out, shooting his seed onto her back as he finished moments after.

Isabela moved away just in time as Hawke collapsed onto the bedroll beneath her, completely spent. Zevran chuckled, his breathing heavy as he used a nearby rag to clean the mess off of her and Isabela both. Fenris sat cross legged next to her as he ran his fingers soothingly through her hair, and Zevran lied down next to Isabela as they all recovered from their exertions.

“Yes, I think I will definitely be thinking about this little session of ours for a while,” he chortled.

#zevran x hawke #fenris x hawke #isabela x hawke #zevran x isabela #fenris x isabela #fenris smut #zevran smut #dragon age smut #dragon age 2 #da2 #smutember #smutember 2022 #fanfic #fanfiction #glasvera writes

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves · 3 years ago

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Can we have mirabel and Felix having some uncle and niece time??

We can, 100%, we live for tío Félix supremacy.

"That kinda day, huh?"

Félix could recognize that look on her face. Some days were better than others, and today was definitely a bad one. He stood next to her, hands over the railing of the balcony, and looking at what she was looking at. Isabela, who was busy wooing a crowd with so many cart full of flowers, Luisa needed to lift them out of the way. Mirabel shook her head, wiping the tears from her face.

"No I just. Have allergies. So many flowers, her gift is dumb."

He could only understand how hard it was, being the only grandkid without a gift. Which wasn't fair, she was a sweet girl. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and kept his voice low.

"You don't have to hide it, mija. I was the exact same. You know my brother Julio?"

"The tall guy with the long hair, yeah."

"He was the oldest brother, so he immediately had the most attention. I looked at him the same way you look at Isa. And you know what I did?"

She finally turned to look up at him, still frowning.

"What?"

"Well I mean I drank and went to parties since he was so anti social, but you're too young for that mess-so we're gonna do something me and my little brother did instead."

He motioned for his niece to follow him, and followed him she did. He took her to the backyard of the Casita, and from the shed, pulled out an old football. He blew on it, causing them both to cough up dust that landed on their faces. She cleaned off her glasses with a grumble, before putting them back on to look at the ball.

"Hey...I remember this."

"You should, you signed it!"

Félix had a tradition from his family, that he brought to the Madrigal household. Every kid would sign their name on a football at the ripe ol' age of five, in a sort of sentimental way of remembering such a big occasion. He pointed to her signature, blue and messy, littered in stars and butterflies. She chuckled in memory.

"I remember that. I wanted it right next to Isa's and Camilo's."

"You did! And you threw such a fit when you saw Dolores had that spot. It was adorable."

She raised a brow, looking at the ball, then at him.

"And this was for...a trip down memory lane?"

"That too. But I figured we'd play a game. Julio hated sports, so football was a fun thing me and Mateo did when we were mad at him."

"You think football is gonna help me?"

She didn't believe him, and honestly, he didn't blame her. He put the ball down, and putting his foot on it.

"Just humor your tío, mija. I'll even let you have it first, and I'll go easy on you. At first."

"I dunno, tío."

He nudged her with his elbow, holding his ever infectious grin.

"Come on. This means you get to shove me, Camilo would KILL for this chance. Make him jealous."

THAT got her attention. She nodded, rolling her shoulders a little to get herself pumped up.

"Alright. Both sides of the Casita as goals?"

"First to three wins?"

"Hella."

"Eso! One, two, three!"

He let her take the ball, and was tempted to let her take the first score, but he couldn't help himself. He immediately chased after her, stealing the ball, and running the other way with it.

"Hey, no fair!"

"Come on! Keep up with this old man!"

She tried to catch up to him, but despite his age, his ass was fast. He made the first goal, with the Casita keeping the ball from being lost amongst the trees. Mirabel folded her arms over her chest, huffing.

"No fair, you were booking it!"

"Thats the point! Come on, catch up. One, two, three!"

This time, SHE was the one who snatched the ball from him. She was a quick thing, laughing as she dashed with the ball to her side of the goal. Seeing her raise her fists in the air in victory, could an uncle want anything more? One to one quickly became two to two, and as Mirabel scored her goal, Félix was grinning ear to ear. He played with the ball in his hands, about to set it down, but not just yet.

"You wanna make things interesting?"

"I'm listening."

"Loser buys the winner ice cream."

"Oh you are SO on. I'm getting a cone, a big one."

"If you can afford that for yourself, sure."

He faked her out, almost putting the ball on the ground, but not quite. He wasn’t going to tell her mom that she knew that kinda swear that escaped her lips. He met her eyes, and for a moment, you could tell she belonged in this family, absolutely and truly. Madrigals had a certain glint in their eyes when they wanted something, and right now, this girl wanted to win. He dropped the ball suddenly, and immediately tried to take it to his goal. She stole it from him, he stole it from her, both calling out each other for violating some sort of non existent rule.

He was about to make a break for it to his goal, when this girl, not even a quarter of his age and definitely half his side, SLAMMED him away from the ball, sending him down to the ground. He got up immediately to recover, but with a good, hard kick, she made it to her goal. The Casita's tiles rippled and windows open and shut, helping her celebrate her victory.

"HA! I WIN! I-oh I'm sorry, did I push you too hard?"

He laughed as he tried to dust off thd grass from his shirt, knowing it'd stain.

"You push EXACTLY like-"

"Luisa?"

"No like Pepa. Luisa has control. Your tía loves me, but she'd murder me if it meant she'd win. Ella es así de mala, and I love her for it."

He muttered a thank you as she pulled a bunch of grass from his hair.

"I can see why she likes you, tío. I'm...not so mad anymore. Little salty, sure, but I'm less mad."

"You know what cures saltyness? Something sweet. Come on, I accept my losses with dignity."

"I wouldn't have, honestly."

"You AND your tía. And possibly your Abuela, she's crazy. Don't tell her I said that."

He kept an arm around her, with the ball being held in the other. Next thing he knew, he was walking to the fountain, just outside the ice cream shop. He handed her the ice cream she wanted (a big cone, as she promised), but not before wiping some dirt off her face. He sat next to her, and they sat there, enjoying their ice cream, and the town. Children playing, the waterfall behind them, the chattering of people. For a moment, there were no special gifts. Just existing, just being happy.

"Hey Félix?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks. I know you and pa tell me there's no shame in not having a gift, but it's. Easier to say than feel, you know."

He nodded in understanding.

"I get it. Agustín doesn't know, since he's an only child, but you're gonna be compared to your siblings for the rest of your life. I felt EXACTLY like you. But you know who made me realize I'm great as I am?"

"Who?"

"Pepa. If I can get a girl like that to fall for me, I must be pretty damn great if she picked me, especially over my brother. Seriously, I had girls ask ME about him back in the day. You're great, just like she is. She loves you, mija, so do I."

He let her rest her head on his shoulder, and he had a feeling he did SOMETHING right here.

"Thanks. I don't have cool powers, but I did get some time with my cool uncle."

He patted the top of her head, before catching her eyes. Looking at a boy. He gently nudged her, grinning from ear to ear.

"Wait a minute."

"No. No please don't-"

"Do you think that boy's cute?"

"Oh my god no please don't-"

Too late. Félix cupped one hand over his mouth, and called out to the guy.

"Oye, niño bonito! My niece keeps looking at your-"

"Shirt! It's a REAL nice shirt!"

She leapt up to cover his mouth with her hand, and he couldn't help but wiggle his brow at her. Poor guy looked confused, but Félix didn't regret it. Especially since there were no more tears. And Félix loved giving others sunshine, not just his Pepa.

#not transformers #encanto #Félix loves football #loves Mirabel #and trying to get her a boyfriend with a cute butt #Félix just gets her a BIT more #he was a petty teen unlike Mirabel's dad #he gets the 'fuck siblings' vibe #asks

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silvermistanimelover · 2 years ago

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Small Encanto Details (Last one)

Okay! Final stretch of the movie here. :)

Look at how gently Bruno looks at the stuffed jaguar Antonio gives to him. His expression is so precious!

And his confused expression in the background when trying to figure out if Mirabel is hugging or fighting is amazing. XD

Of course, who can forget Mirabel’s incredulous expression when she realizes it’s Isabela she has to hug.

And Bruno gets so dang excited, he’s like a puppy and I’m living for it.

Mirabel and Isabela frolicking on the roof surrounded by sharp, pointy, and likely toxic exotic plants is going to be my background for a while. XD

When Casita starts breaking, did you notice how concerned Camilo is? Makes me wonder if he’s after the candle or Mirabel herself? He looks so worried.

And after Mirabel goes missing, Dolores tries to listen for Mirabel only to realize her Gift is gone. she looks so dang heartbroken that she can’t find her prima.

After Mirabel returns. When she goes to help Luisa move the rock, her older sister looks so surprised. Whether that’s because Mirabel can actually move this rock, or because someone offered her help is left up to interpretation. Could be both.

When Abuela starts apologizing for how she acted, Pepa looks like the sky’s about to fall down.

Camilo straight up trying to figure out why Bruno isn’t a 7ft tall scream-eating monster.

Abuela and Pepa look so shocked when Bruno starts singing. “Is that really my brother? Actively participating in something involving people?!”

And then when he takes her hand, she looks suspicious as hell. “What are you up to?” That moment your brother starts being nice for seemingly no reason.

Anyone else notice Camilo’s shocked expression in the background? I thought it was hilarious.

Even Julieta and Abuela are shook. 😂

Dolores: You know I knew he never left, I heard him every day. Camilo: And you never told anyone?! WHAT THE HELL SIS!?

That’s literally what his expression is saying. This face of his lives in my head rent-free, I’ll have you know.

I never realized that Dolores not only sang this part with Mirabel, Luisa, and Isabela, but she also literally leapt off the roof with her dad beside her and hoisted her youngest brother up into the air.

If you’ve never seen Camilo drop the shovel, and his hilarious expression of “nobody saw that, right?” then go back and rewatch this part. It’s worth it.

The Priest giving Bruno a thumbs up is amazing. ❤️

Can I applaud the animators again? Because holy crap they added glare on Mirabel’s glasses. And you can see the palm trees. HOLY—

When Mirabel finally gets her Door. :) The jaws of the entire family drop. Wish we’d gotten a look at Pepa and her side of the family too. Poor Antonio’s the only Warm Side dude over there (Bruno’s neutral territory).

And finally, the family picture as it was before Casita decided to get in on the action too. ❤️

#encanto details #encanto #All of you #Madrigal #Madrigal family #Small Encanto Details #Did you notice any of this?#I applaud the animators #this must've been hell to bring into reality #but it turned out so damn cool

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shutupaboutandraste · 3 years ago

Note

“Hear this now — I will always come for you” for Fenders? <3

OKAY so like. I saw this and was just immediately inspired and knew exactly what I wanted to write so I hope you like it!

It's more pre-ship, buuuuut still Fenders.

Words: 3203 Pairing: Fenris/Anders For @dadrunkwriting

ACT I

To say Fenris didn’t trust Anders would be an understatement. An abomination through and through, he would never understand Hawke’s trust in him. Perhaps, it was because of her sister-- Bethany always seemed to vouch for him, something else that made Fenris’ head spin. Never before Bethany Hawke had he seen a mage so in control of themself. Yet, there was Bethany who shined in beauty, grace, and kindness all without being possessed or resorting to blood magic. He had only known her for a short time since he was approached by Hawke’s motley crew.

Still, he stuck by them, despite it all. Hawke had become a good friend in the short time he had known her. Even if her taste in women was… questionable. Anyone with eyes could see the tall warrior had affection for the Dalish blood mage of all people. Of course, that did exclude the elf in question. Merrill seemed entirely blind, even when Hawke told her that she was free to call her Aingheal. To everyone else, that name seemed off limits and Merrill seemed content to leave it that way for herself. Strange woman…

There were days he thought about leaving. Danarius could arrive any day on the doorstep of his borrowed mansion any day. The thought of leaving, however, left the taste of ash in his mouth. Little things were what he would miss-- Hawke coming to check in on him, coming back to the mansion to find little plates of food from Merrill, Isabela’s flirting, all of it. Loyalty threaded into Hawke’s group, evident in the way they watched each other’s back in battle to those little gestures Fenris had grown fond of in the past few months. Echoes of his days with the Fog Warriors sang softly within him.

These thoughts tumbled and toppled over each other with each passing day. Fenris took each one in and compartmentalized it within. These were the people that he had thrown his lot in with, for better or worse. Yet, he never knew if Merrill would be possessed by a demon, or whether Anders would suddenly turn on them to fulfill the desires of Vengeance. So, when Anders was still glowing after an encounter with a Tal Vashoth mercenary group on the wounded coast, Fenris leaped into action.

His brands lit up as he reached for Anders. Justice’s glare flashed his way, but he did not flinch. The only thing that stopped him was Hawke’s sword in his way. His heels let him skid to a stop just in time to avoid phasing through it. There was always a chance that phasing through a weapon would just wind up with him impaled.

“What the hell, Fenris?”

Varric whistled, “Easy, Broody! That one is friendly.”

“Hardly,” he snarled, “Why is your demon still active, mage?”

“I AM NO DEMON,” boomed that voice that both was and was not Anders. Still, it didn’t argue further, seemingly releasing Anders for its thrall.

Anders snarled at him, “Justice was fine! You could have killed me!”

Fenris crossed his arms, holding his head high, acting as if he could stand down the taller man, “And you could have killed Hawke.”

Hawke scoffed, “I can fight my own battles. Thanks. Justice doesn’t scare me.”

There she went again, trusting the fool mage and his demon. Even though Fenris had warned her of all he saw in Tevinter, Hawke insisted that she knew better. One day she might live to regret it. Fenris hoped that he didn’t live to see that day. For all his terse nature, he did want Hawke to be right about Anders. So, he let the argument brewing inside him die.

Hawke was a harsh woman. When she spoke, there was no argument, one simply followed. That did not make her unkind, simply firm. It was one of the many things Fenris found himself respecting, all but in awe of. Leadership decorated Hawke like well-fitted armor. There was very little she could do now to waiver his trust in her. The group began heading out, Varric and Hawke immediately taking to counting out the loot as they walked.

Fenris came up to walk beside Anders, “You may have favor with Hawke, mage, but hear this, should you betray her--”

“Why are you so sure of my guilt long before I’ve committed a crime?”

“Should you betray her, hear this now-- I will always come for you. That is a threat.”

ACT II

Putting trust in Hawke was far from misplaced. Long after the Deep Roads, she still remained his friend, helped him when Hadriana came knocking, and trusted him in return. Fenris was a regular member of her party, trusting him even about Aveline whom she had known for far longer. Hawke was a natural, but ruthless in her efficiency. Fenris respected that, even when he wasn’t sure he agreed. Sometimes, Fenris caught Hawke with a wild, angry glint in her eye as she plowed through enemies with an almost sadistic glee. Fighting was the happiest he had seen her bar her time spent with Merrill or after she was permitted a visit with Bethany at the Circle.

Yet, still, Hawke persisted with Anders. The mage had only grown more rebellious and unstable since they had met. Fenris did not despise him, but Anders set his teeth on edge in a way Fenris had not known in some time. Yet, she had left him to deal with the wounded as healer and protector while she fought the Arishok.

Upon the kill, Fenris thought she might cut off the Qunari leader’s head and hoist it up as a trophy. If she was, she never got the chance as she was rushed upon. The word ‘Champion’ echoed about the halls of the Viscount’s Keep. Before Fenris’ very eyes, the city seemed to be turned upside down. In the chaos, he managed to stumble out of the building, attempting to follow Merrill and Varric as they both rushed after Hawke.

Bethany was outside, tailing Orsino under the watchful eye of Meredith-- Shit. Where was Anders?

Templars milled about outside, keeping watch over mages who were working on healing the wounded while Aveline’s guard began lining up the dead, human, dwarf, elf, and qunari alike. There was no mess of dirty blond hair among them. No matter what he thought, Anders did a service in Darktown. Without him, the Ferelden refugees would be worse off. Instead of following whatever parade was forming around Hawke, he ducked down a side street, attempting to search for Anders.

Smoke still filled the air, making Fenris cough as he attempted to plunge ahead. Loud wailing was still echoing in the streets, amid the cheers of victory. Loss had still struck everyone fiercely. While he searched for Anders, he also kept his eyes peeled for Isabela. Wherever she had left to go to, he had a sinking feeling that she was never coming back.

Neither deep black curls nor a dirty blond mop was what caught his eye. Instead, it was Aveline’s flash of bright ginger hair. And, safe from templars, Anders was next to her. Fenris found himself surprisingly sighing with relief. He had worried for nothing. Carefully, he approached them.

“This is your fault,” Anders snapped, teeth grit as he tried to control Justice.

Aveline snarled, “What? Saving you from templars?”

“No! The Qunari attack!” he replied, “Much as I appreciate you getting me out of there.”

“Isabela stole that tome,” muttered Aveline, crossing her arms, “That’s what started this.”

“Isabela stole that stupid book ages ago. Then you let that… that monster get away with raping a girl!” Blue crackled at the edges of Anders’ eyes, which he shut, quickly as he tried to slow his breathing. His self-control after a long day of casting and healing was reaching its limit.

Aveline rubbed her nose bridge in frustration, “Anders, honestly, I don’t know what you expect me to do--”

“Punish the guard?” offered Anders, “Or would that be too much effort because the victim was an elf? I didn’t realize we were in Tevinter.”

“That was uncalled for,” snarled Aveline, clearly close to losing her patience.

Quickly, nearly fade-stepping to get there, Fenris went forward, taking Anders by the shoulders. Justice flashed, but Anders merely looked alarmed at being touched. His eyes narrowed on Aveline, who instead just looked relieved that someone else had interrupted them. He nodded at her slowly.

“Hawke asked me to escort him back to Darktown,” he said, “Go to your guards.”

“Be safe,” she said before turning to leave.

Anders scoffed, pulling away from Fenris and trudging ahead, “I should be out there healing.”

“You can deal with the injured that make it to the clinic,” sighed Fenris.

He crossed his arms, trudging forward, “Did Hawke really ask you to come check on me? I figured she’d send someone else. Varric, maybe, or--”

“She’s too busy entertaining the masses,” admitted Fenris, “I wanted to make sure you did not get caught by the templars.”

“Me?” Anders scoffed, “Why do you care?”

Why do you care about the lives of elves? Fenris wanted to ask. Yet… He knew why. While the Spirit within Anders could ebb and flow between Justice and Vengeance, Fenris knew that the Anders had originally allowed a spirit in him. Anders had stories of Justice and their time with the Grey Wardens as separate people. Letting the guard go unpunished was unjust, no matter who the victim was, but as usual it was elves who saw the short end of the stick.

Despite every notion Fenris had of the other man, Anders continued to prove himself dedicated to the people, even if those people were usually mages. Everyone was welcome at his clinic, from refugees to the Seneschal himself. Many things Anders did annoyed Fenris, but his dedication and passion were to be admired. To see a spark of joy when healing, that was something Fenris could respect. Maybe he even wanted to, if he would just let himself.

Hawke expected his loyalty-- she had it, of course, but she still expected it. When that loyalty was questioned, she made sure you knew about it. When he had run off after killing Hadriana, she had made her position known. If Fenris wanted to do that again, he better damn well wait until they got back to Kirkwall so they weren’t romping across the Wounded Coast without help. Her anger had shamed him.

A few nights later, he had brought Anders dinner. The practice was not uncommon among the group, but it happened when Anders failed to show up at the Hanged Man. Usually, they played a round of Wicked Grace to see who took the meal. Fenris had been the first out, thus the man to take the meal. Anders had been finishing up with a patient-- a little elven girl with a scraped knee. The injury was hardly worth the time of a healer with Anders’ caliber, yet Fenris watched as he distracted her with jokes while healing her knee. Once he was done, he patted it, making her smile before he dug around for a bit, pulling out a sweet. Most of them were stale, but the refugee children hardly cared, always pleased that the healer had candy for them.

When he saw Fenris, Anders had asked him if he was okay. There was no yelling about Fenris’ comment about how magic spoiled everything--though Anders had made a snide remark when he had spoken it. No, concern lined the wrinkles of Anders’ face as he graciously took the meal, double and triple checking that Fenris didn’t need healing or something to help. Once that was over with, Anders huffed, told Fenris he was stubborn, thanked him for the meal, and reminded him to clean the up mansion before he caught something from the corpses.

“Hear this now,” he said, “I will always come for you. That is a promise.”

ACT III

Smoke had a horrible, overwhelming scent. After the Qunari attack, he didn’t have the stomach to even enjoy a good campfire anymore. But watching the rubble of the Chantry smolder before him sent a revulsion through his gut. Why did Anders always have to be such a fool? Why couldn’t he just wait for the conflict to run its inevitable course?

Hawke did not ask for their opinions. Sebastian was furious-- so was she. Merrill had her hands clasped at her heart as they watched Aingheal Hawke walk around Anders like a predatory animal. For prey, he looked remarkably calm, sad, even.

Run, you idiot. Petrify her and run for your life.

Anders didn’t move. He wanted to die. Fenris felt sick.

“I trusted you,” hissed Hawke, “I made you part of my family; I protected you. Then you LIE to me, have me help you do this.”

“The war is inevitable,” said Anders, “Justice and I have done what had to be done. Kill me if you will and be done with it.”

“You put my WIFE in danger! You put my SISTER in danger!” Hawke raised a fist, bashing it across the side of Anders’ head.

“Vhennan, no!” exclaimed Merril, “Don’t kill ‘im. He can help us protect the mages, please.”

“He doesn’t deserve to live!” bit back Sebastian.

Hawke growled, “Do not speak to her that way! Merrill, I can’t. He’s too dangerous. He’s… He’s not the Anders we knew. Not anymore.”

Fenris felt his fist clench at his side. These theatrics were ridiculous-- there was a city to save. And, to be frank, either they chose Anders to die as he pleased or they went with Merrill’s plan. Hawke had seemingly chosen the former. Tears streamed down Merrill’s cheeks as she looked away, her wife hoisting her greatsword high. Fenris felt his insides twist.

He remembered the Anders he thought he knew. Once upon a time, that man had been an abomination, just a foolish mage playing Maker. Then, things had shifted. As much as he wanted things to be simple, Anders never allowed anything to be so. With his manifesto and ranting, came the healing and the gentle touches. Even when he himself forgot to eat, he never let anyone else forget. He would risk hair and hide in battle to protect others.

One night, not long after Hawke had been dubbed the Champion, Anders had admitted to Fenris that he had not always been so selfless. Justice was what brought out the best in him-- that if Fenris hated him now, he would have loathed the Anders of the Circle or the Grey Wardens, all flirt and wit and self-serving. Somehow, Fenris doubted that was the whole story.

Each passing day over the last three years, he found he craved it more. Was Anders really so different? Or was he exaggerating in an effort to self-loathe everything about himself? One minute he was witty and charismatic the next he seemed to gain ten years from exhaustion. Yet, each day, that wit and charisma faded away. A demon-- not a traditional one, but some sort of sickness of the mind-- had taken hold of the healer. Had anyone tried to help him?

Varric, perhaps, refusing to give into such demands like taking a pillow that meant so much Anders. Yet, no one else knew what to do. None of them knew how to cope with this shell of their friend. But he was still there. After Danarius, Hawke had clapped him on the back, asked him if he was alright, and went on her way.

Anders had shown up that night, barging his way in, double-checking injuries he had already healed while Fenris pushed him away. It didn’t work, of course. The mage had always been too stubborn for that. No matter how easy it would be for Fenris to kill him, Anders had never feared him. He treated him like any other friend. Only a week ago, he had invited Anders to eat dinner together… privately.

And then Fenris, cowardly, had failed to show.

Showing up would not have changed this event. No, Anders was too far into this plan, he was sure. Yet, now, he could not find it in him to overthink. Firelight glinted on Hawke’s as it arched its way down. Far faster than he knew that he could run, Fenris found himself knelt at Anders’ side. His hands clutched the other man’s shoulders, before shoving him forward. Lyrium flickered to life.

Hawke’s sword passed through him. Phantom sensations touched him, but did not harm him. Anders looked at him from where he had fallen, gathering himself up as he stared at them all. His feet slid backward, his mouth attempting to make Fenris’ name. Behind him, Hawke seethed.

“Run!” he ordered, urging Anders, “Run! Hear this, I will always come for you! I will find you! Go!”

Anders nodded quickly, life suddenly seeming to spring forth in his eyes. Oh, how long had Fenris longed to see that glint again. He had not realized he had ached for it until he saw its gleam. The mage took off, rushing away and into the chaos of the street. Once he was out of sight, Fenris turned to face them. Sebastian had his bow cocked at his head while Hawke looked disgusted.

“You bastard,” she hissed, “What had gotten into you?”

“What has gotten into you?” he repeated, “Anders was your friend. More-so than he ever was mine.” And yet, his stupid, treacherous heart and all of its longing had found the sympathy to save him.

“You were right,” she sneered, “He was always an abomination. I was blind.”

“Your wife is a blood mage,” snapped Fenris, “Shall you put her to the sword next?” Merrill gasped, but he glanced at her, trying to show her that it was not something he wanted. Hawke looked appalled at such a suggestion, thank the Maker, and lowered her sword.

Hawke did not circle him like a prey animal as she did Anders. No, instead he raised her nose to him. Golden eyes, just a bit hazel and always piercing, cast their judgement down on him. In an instant, without thinking, she saw what he had done as throwing away her loyalty to save Anders. And Hawke always expected his loyalty.

“I loved you like a brother,” she said, shaking her head, “Get out. Get out of my sight. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you both.” Merril sobbed, Varric quickly tending to her, looking unusually surly at Hawke. Then again, perhaps it wasn’t so unusual. Hawke was always funnier in his tales than she was in person. Perhaps Fenris had been blinded to something Varric had always seen.

Fenris did not say goodbye. Instead, he walked away with pride, head held high, a free man who would not be tethered to a woman who confused loyalty with ownership. Fenris owed her much, but she did not own him. And a free man was allowed to walk into whatever fate he damned well please.

Fenris chose Anders, and he knew he would keep choosing Anders every day after. All he had to do was find him.

#dadwc #fenders #da2 #fenris #anders #da drunk writing circle #da

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veorlian · 4 years ago

Text

honey tongue

The stories will tell you that falling in love with your best friend is as easy as breathing, that it's the height of romance. Varric Tethras had written far too many stories to believe that crock of nonsense.

my submissions for @hightown-funk are up!! here’s the first one <3

read it on ao3 here

The Hanged Man was legendary for two things: bar fights, and ale that was at least 50% vinegar. There were also the suspiciously sticky floors, the rooms you could rent by the hour, and enterprising individuals keen on relieving you of all that burdensome coin you had on you. It was what people had come to expect. The barkeep had offered a higher-quality ale once, and the regulars had stormed out in protest. And Maker have mercy if they ever decide to clean the place up a bit. There’d be riots in the streets.

Well. More riots than usual, at least.

Marian Hawke spent most evenings in the Hanged Man. The petty crime and general chaos faded into the periphery as she played Wicked Grace with her friends. It was replaced with a different kind of petty crime and chaos, but at least this was hers.

And speaking of chaos, at the moment Varric was regaling the crowd with the tale of their most recent trip to the Bone Pit. There was a rough semi-circle of regulars standing around Varric, with the kind of slack-jawed, wide-eyed expressions that normally accompanied one of his particularly tall tales.

He was in fine form. Marian had never quite figured out how he could look so laid back and engaged at the same time. She’d tried it once. Carver had just said that she looked constipated. Varric made it look easy. He made most things look easy.

“And then Hawke raised her sword and leaped through the air, landing on the dragon’s back, killing it in a single blow—”

“It was already mostly dead,” Garrett called. Marian flipped him off. A few of the stragglers towards the back of Varric’s audience turned to face the two of them.

“It was not,” Marian tossed back.

“Was too."

Marian rolled her eyes at her brother and leaned forward on the pitted table.

“Hey Varric, tell them about the part where I did a sick back-flip off of the dragon—”

“And fell on your ass—” Garrett interrupted. More of Varric’s audience turned now, their eyes bouncing back and forth between the twins like a tennis match.

“And landed perfectly and took a little bow,” Marian finished, pointedly ignoring Garrett. She kept her eyes fixed on Varric’s face, and the wry little twist of his lips.

“Of course! How could I forget,” he said, his eyes dancing. “As she struck the killing blow, the dragon came crashing down to the ground. Hawke gracefully leapt off of its back, landing neatly on the ground.”

“I can’t believe this,” Garrett complained. Varric continued to regale the audience with tales of the twins’ exploits. Marian patted Garrett on the arm in a way expertly calculated to be both patronizing and comforting.

“Sorry little brother, it’s just not very dramatic when you wave your fancy baton around,” Marian replied. “Doesn’t have the same impact as a bigass sword.”

“Last I checked, fireball has a hell of an impact,” Garrett shot back.

“Potato, potahto,” Marian said dismissively.

“There’s only one way to settle this,” he said. He rolled up his sleeves and set an elbow down on the table, his hand open. Marian smiled crookedly and did the same. Varric lost his audience again, as they formed a loose circle around the table. There was the clink of coin changing hands, and an exaggerated sigh and eye roll from Carver.

“My money’s on Hawke,” Isabela called.

“Which one?” Garrett and Marian asked in unison.

“Whichever one wins,” Isabela said cheerfully.

“I’m not sure that’s how that works,” Merrill murmured anxiously. Isabela waved her away airily and tossed a few coins on the table.

“Have you seen how ripped I am? Of course I’m gonna win,” Garrett said. Marian snorted and shook her head.

“Bigass sword. Fancy baton,” she said. She gripped Garrett’s hand, and the arm wrestling began. It was evenly matched, as most things were with the twins. But not for nothing did Marian swing around a giant hunk of metal nearly the same height as herself.

She slammed Garrett’s hand down into the table, grinning widely.

“Best two out of three,” he said immediately. She laughed and shook her head.

“You lost fair and square,” she said cheerfully. Garrett flipped her off and went to refill his drink. Marian glanced up to find Varric making his way over to the table, settling in his customary spot at her side.

“You couldn’t wait until I was done?” Varric asked agreeably. Marian shrugged nonchalantly.

“Not my fault your admirers couldn’t resist the lure of my rippling muscles,” she said. “You’ll just need to make me sound even cooler. What if I had a sword for a hand?”

“No good,” Varric replied, shaking his head, “it’d interfere too much with the romance scenes.”

“Varric, I’m not exactly seeing a lot of that kind of action at the moment,” Marian said dryly. “Let me have a giant sword for a hand. It’d be cool as hell.”

“C’mon Hawke, a romance plot is always more compelling. Why not ask the pirate?” he said, gesturing to Isabela. Isabela caught the motion and winked broadly at them. “I can see it now; a daring love story, set against the backdrop of a ship tossed at sea. Readers love that stuff.” Marian snorted derisively and shook her head.

“I’ve got enough going on trying to stop this city from going to hell,” she complained. There was a deep ache in her chest that she couldn’t quite place. Fortunately, she didn’t have to think about it for very long, because Garrett arrived back at the table, his arms full of terrible beer.

“How come I never get the big dramatic retellings?” he griped.

“Because you keep heckling me,” Varric said dryly. “Plus, you’re not as good-looking.”

Marian’s heart stuttered and fully came to a stop. She ducked her head to hide the blush that threatened to set her face on fire. What the hell…?

“Nonsense, I’m the prettiest person in Kirkwall,” Garrett said primly.

“C’mon, we all know that’s Merrill,” Marian said, swallowing down her embarrassment. A crooked grin spread across her face. “At least, that’s what Carver always says.”

“Hey—” Carver began.

The ensuing chaos and overlapping voices covered up the weird and alarming thoughts floating through Marian’s head.

Plus, you’re not as good-looking.

Did Varric think she was good-looking?

Andraste’s sacred knickers, did that actually matter to her? Marian tossed back her drink in one go and stumbled to the bar to grab another.

Somewhere between the witching hours of 2am and 4am, the others traipsed out. Now, Marian was good at traipsing. She’d elevated it from a science to an art. She could traipse with the best of them. But when 4am rolled around, she didn’t.

It was a weekly ritual at this point, and it happened more often now that she was in that stuffy old mansion. Such a big place, but it felt like the walls were constantly creeping in on her. More than a few hours there and she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

And so.

“Varric, don’t make me walk all the way back to Hightown,” she would groan, and he would chuckle that warm chuckle that brought the blood rushing to her ears. Probably just the alcohol, she always thought.

“Alright, you can stay just this once,” he would say, and she would flash him a crooked grin.

“You’re my favourite.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, serrah,” he’d say. She’d generally waggle her eyebrows at him suggestively, and they’d both laugh.

She didn’t remember when the flirting had started. A few minutes after they’d met, she figured. It was just a part of them, both of them. An easy way to keep everyone at arm’s reach. If they both agreed that it didn’t mean anything, then there was no harm no foul.

After all, it’s not like anything was ever going to come of it. Varric was happily married to a crossbow, and he’d repeatedly told her that he wasn’t into humans. So that was that. Marian was perfectly happy being Varric’s best friend and partner-in-crime.

And if she couldn’t sleep these days without hearing the gentle scritching of his quill on parchment, well, no one needed to know that. … Varric Tethras was a storyteller, most comfortable staying unobtrusively on the sidelines of a tale. It was safest that way really. Fewer people shooting at you, for one.

He couldn’t remember when it had started, becoming a part of Hawke’s story. He hadn’t been, at first. He’d been a plot device, a quest-giver just tagging along.

“You won’t even notice I’m here,” he’d told her. Varric Tethras: such a gifted liar that sometimes he almost convinced himself.

It had shifted by inches, their friendship. They’d gotten along almost instantly, like they’d just been waiting for the other to come along. So it was natural for them to spend most of their time together. And then it was natural for her to sleep on his couch when she was too drunk to walk home. His palatial suite at the Hanged Man was her palatial suite. That was all perfectly natural and normal and fine.

Until it wasn’t.

He couldn’t fall asleep these days until he heard her snoring (she and Dog seemed to be in a competition for who could be the loudest. On occasion it shook the dilapidated rafters).

She’d slipped into his life as easy as breathing. Easier, in some ways. So many little rituals. Like putting extra jokes into his manuscripts, just for her.

“Hey Hawke, you think you could give this a read for me?” he asked. She glanced up from where she was lounging on one of his chairs. She arched an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across her face.

“Am I going to blush?” she asked. He chuckled and shook his head.

“I just want to make sure that I’ve got the character right,” he replied.

“Aw, you’re no fun,” she said cheerfully, already on her feet and moving to lean over his shoulder. She rested an elbow on top of his head, like he was an armrest. He cleared his throat pointedly.

“Problem, serah Tethras?” she asked innocently.

“Hands off the merchandise,” he said easily. She leaned down to meet his eyes, her haphazardly cut bangs flopping in her face.

“I think you’ll find it’s my elbow on the merchandise. Very different part of the body,” she pointed out. To prove her point, she shifted her arm and rested her hand on his shoulder instead. He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t quite keep the smile off of his face.

“Just read the damn passage,” he said. She shrugged and turned her attention to the page. She hadn’t moved her hand, and the warmth slowly seeped into him. He realized with a start that he was leaning into her touch. What the hell?

The smell of cinnamon and honey drifted through the room. Not that that was unusual either. It clung to every part of the room. Even his trademark leather coat smelled permanently of cinnamon and honey, from that tea she drank at all hours of the day and night.

He missed it, when it wasn’t there.

He knew she’d gotten to the unflattering description of the Knight-Captain when she began to laugh. He thought her laugh was the best thing he’d ever heard. It wasn’t graceful by any means, caught somewhere between a cackle and a snort. But she laughed with her full body, like it was the funniest thing she’d heard in her life. Joyful, reckless abandon.

It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

Oh.

With Hawke’s hand digging into his shoulder, her laughter ringing in his ears, the smell of cinnamon and honey on the air, Varric Tethras realized that he was in love.

Shit. … The stories will have you believe that revelations of love are dramatic, that they’re accompanied by flights of angels or some other shit like that. Marian Hawke had heard too many love stories to believe in them anymore.

She was sprawled along the couch leafing through Varric’s latest draft of The Tale of the Champion. She liked to leave little notes and doodles in the margins. It drove Varric’s editor up the wall. She heard Varric’s familiar footfalls coming up the stairs.

“Hey, you forgot to mention the bit where I single-handedly took down a chimera,” she called, not looking up. Varric hummed noncommittally in response. She glanced up from the page to study him. He was swaying slightly on his feet, eyes a little unfocused as he leaned against the doorframe.

“You okay?” she asked. “Merchant’s Guild crap?”

A ghost of a smile flickered across his face and he shook his head, running a hand through his graying hair.

“No, it’s not that,” he said. Marian’s eyebrows knitted together, and she shifted on the couch to make room for him. When he didn’t move, she pointedly patted the space next to her. When he still didn’t move, she made her way across the room to meet him.

“Then what is it, Varric? Crossbow troubles?” she asked. He looked away and his hand came up to rub at the back of his neck.

“Marian, I—” Record scratch, freeze frame. Varric never called her Marian. Never anything than Hawke, actually. He’d never even given her a nickname, like he had all the others. She was just Hawke.

“Didn’t realize you knew my name,” she managed. Another faint smile, only barely reaching his eyes. It was gone as soon as it came.

“Shit, I’m not good at this kind of thing,” he said. The smell of cheap ale and whiskey clung to him like a second skin.

“What kind of thing? You’re freaking me out, Varric.”

His warm amber eyes turned up to meet hers. Carefully, seemingly giving her every opportunity to move away, he reached up a hand on her face. Distantly, she realized he must be standing on his tip-toes. She might have laughed, if he hadn’t gently tugged her face down towards him.

His lips were softer than she’d imagined they’d be. His calloused hands tangled in her short hair, bringing her closer. She could taste the faint touch of alcohol on his tongue as her mouth slanted over his.

She looped an arm around his waist and easily lifted him up into the air.

“Hawke, put me down,” he said indignantly. She laughed breathlessly against his mouth.

“My shoulders were getting sore from bending over,” she said. She wound her free hand through his hair and tugged him back to kiss her again. She realized suddenly that she would be quite happy staying right here, like this, for the rest of her life. Well, maybe with a stool. She was strong, but Varric was sturdy. He’d probably whack her on the arm if she told him that though.

She set Varric down on the table, standing between his legs and bringing both hands up to cup his face.

“Better?” she whispered. He grumbled something indistinct and unflattering that was abruptly cut off as she began to trail kisses down to his neck.

“Would you believe that I’ve wanted to do this for years?” he rasped. Hawke stilled. And then, she began to laugh, resting her forehead against Varric’s.

“Well, there’s no call to be rude,” he said. She pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, still chuckling.

“I have as well,” she said at last.

“Ah,” Varric managed. And then, “So, what now?”

“You in a rush, Tethras?” Marian asked. She gently tipped his chin up to face her. “Seems to me we’ve got all the time in the world.”

“So we do,” he said, and he kissed her again.

#this was such a joy to write #da2 #hawke #varric tethras #varric x hawke #hightown funk

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valeriethepussycats · 4 years ago

Text

I’m Only Human

Chapter 7

Pairing- Loki x Reader, Thor x Reader( Best friends)

Warning- cursing

Your thoughts in italics.

“I turned my gaze upon you in Jotunheim, but could neither see nor hear you. You were shrouded from me, like the Frost Giants who entered this Realm.” Heimdall disclosed.

“Perhaps your senses have weakened after your many years of service.” Loki divulged

“Or perhaps someone has found a way to hide that which he does not wish me to see.” Heimdall replied.

Loki sizes him up, smiles. “You have great power, Heimdall. Tell me, did Odin ever fear you?” Loki questioned.

“No.”

“And why is that?”

“Because he is my King, and I am sworn to obey him.” Heimdall answered.

“Exactly. Just as you're sworn to obey me now. Yes?” Loki supposed.

“Yes.”

“Good. Then you will open the Bifrost to no one until I have undone what my brother has started.” Loki ordered

Loki heads out of the Observatory. Heimdall stares after him.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Thor, Y/n, and Erik sit at a booth at the back of the local dive. The bartender sets down a couple mugs of beer and two shots of whiskey and Bourbon. Y/n downs the Bourbon while Erik pours his shot into his mug and downs it. Thor follows his example.

“Seems Darcy's a terrible intern, but a talented hacker.” Erik shared.

“That was impeccable timing Erik.” Y/n praised.

“Thank you Y/n and Erik for what you've done.”

“Don’t mention it that’s what friends are for we have each other‘s back.” Y/n grinned.

“Don’t thank me. I only did it for Jane and Y/n she believes for some god forsaken reason.” Erik replied.

“Are you in love with her?” Thor asked.

“No he’s not Jane's like a daughter to him.” Y/n answered for Erik.

“Her father and I taught at University together. A good man, but he never listened.” Erik told Thor.

This registers with Thor. “Neither did I.”

Erik eyes him with interest.

“I don't know if you're really delusional, and I really don't care at this point. I just care about her. I've seen the way she looks at you.” Erik declared.

“I swear to you, I mean her no harm.” Thor promised

“Good. If that's the case, then I'll buy you one more drink, and you'll leave town tonight.” Erik told Thor. A long pause, then Thor nods. Erik gets up to go use the restroom.

“I’m sorry.” Y/n commented

“For what you got me out of there.” Thor replied

“About your father your thoughts are yelling at me Thor you got to control them.” Y/n shared.

“I’ve never had to control my thoughts before.” Thor laughed.

“No really Thor I am sorry. I know what it’s like to lose a parent, I lost my mother when I was five.” Y/n explained.

“How?”

“I was taken from her she died trying to save me.” Y/n said sadly.

“Now I am sorry.” Thor told.

“Don’t be.... All because someone’s gone does it mean they left.” Y/n declared.

“What does that mean?”

“It means your father will be in your head and your heart.” Y/n started. “Don’t listen to Erik. You are the best thing for Jane he knows it he just scared.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

“I had it all backwards. I had it all wrong.” Thor remarked.

Erik watches him keenly. This is a different Thor than he's seen before. “It's not a bad thing, finding out that you don't have all the answers. That's when you start asking the right questions.” Erik told Thor.

Thor takes this in. “For the first time in my life, I have no idea what I'm supposed to do.” Thor confessed.

“Anyone who's ever going to find their way in this world has to start by admitting they don't know where the hell they are.” Erik commanded. Thor nods.

Two Drunk Townie a very tell one and a short one walks up to Y/n, Thor, and Erik.“Hey, I know you, man... “ The Short one Started.

An intimidating the tall Drunk Townie nearby sizes up Thor. He is one of the Townies from Isabela's Diner who saw Thor earlier. He approaches, belligerent and looking for a fight.

The tall walks over to Y/n and sits next to her

“How you doin.”

“Fuck off.” Y/n swore as she drinks her shots of Bourbon.

The tall Drunk Townie hangs his head low in defeat as he gets up and walks ways.

“ You were in the diner with that hot girl.” Short Drunk Townie commented. Thor doesn't like where this is going. “I wouldn't mind her doing a little research on me.” He laughed.

“I have no quarrel with you. But she's a lady. You should be more respectful.” Thor said annoyed.

“And you should shut the hell up, princess.”

“Really of all the insults you could say you choose princess.” Y/n laughed at the man.

Selvig looks to Thor, concerned that he's going to lose it. But, to his surprise, Thor remains unaffected by the Townie's baiting.

“I will not fight him.” Thor proclaimed.

“Then it'll be easy to kick your ass.”

Erik stands, steps between the two men. “Gentlemen, please. Let's keep our heads.” Just then, Erik head-butts the Townie, knocking him out. Thor's impressed. Selvig downs his drink, then hurls his glass aside, shattering it on the ground. “Another drink?”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Thor and Selvig stumble down the street, singing a Norwegian folk song. While Y/n is recording them on her phone. They improvise an impromptu drinking song dance routine involving side steps and happy slaps, optimistically in time with the song.

"The mood is good, our hearts are full, there's magic in the air. / It's all because we're here tonight, and haven't got a care. /So raise a glass, and toast to life, wherever it may lead / Tra-la-la, tra-la-la, a friend is fine indeed. / Tra-la-la, tra-la-la, a friend is fine indeed!"

Y/n holds up a hand for Erik 's last finishing slap. Erik misses it completely and falls out of frame like a straight dead weight with a clunk.

Y/n laughs then Emerging from behind the car where Erik fell, Thor stands up, Erik slung over his shoulder, and starts to walk up the street towards Jane's trailer.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

The small trailer is in a state of perpetual disarray, strewn with various books, old pizza boxes, etc. A worried Jane lies on her bed, trying to read. She's startled by the loud rapping on the door. She bolts to the door and opens it to find --Standing there with the unconscious Erik slung over his shoulder.

“Erik!” Jane Remarked. “Is he all right?”

“He's fine. Not injured at all.” Thor started. As Thor enters, he bangs Erik’s head on the

“What happened?”Jane asked.

“We drank. We fought. He made his ancestors proud.” Thor Explained.

“Put him on the bed.” Jane told Thor.

Thor moves through the small trailer carrying Erik, like a bear lugging another bear, smashing into things along the way, until he finally sets Erik down on Jane's bed. Erik awakens groggily and“I still don't believe you're the God of Thunder.” Erik murmured. “But you ought to be.”

Thor grins, pats him on the cheek. As Selvig drifts off to sleep, Thor pulls a blanket over him. Jane watches, stunned by their friendship, impressed by Thor's tenderness. Thor turns back to her, looks around.

“These are your chambers?” Thor Asked.

Jane suddenly becomes self-conscious. She starts cleaning up the mess around her.

Well, it's more of a temporary living space, really. I don't usually have visitors in here.

Actually, never...” Jane trailed off.

Thor picks up a sock off the floor. She snatches it from him, puts it away. “Can we go outside?” Jane asked.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Thor steps off a ladder onto the roof of Smith Motors. He offers Jane his hand, helps her up. There's a telescope set up, a couple chairs, some blankets.

“I come up here sometimes when can't sleep. Or when I'm trying to reconcile particle data. Or when Darcy's driving me crazy....I come up here a lot, now that I think about it.” Jane disclosed.

Thor looks at the night sky, filled with stars. “I'm glad you're safe.” Jane ended.

“You've been very kind. I've been far less grateful than you deserve.” Thor noted.

“I also hit you with my car a couple times, so it kind of evens out.” Jane joked

He grins, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out her Notebook.“ I don't believe it...” Jane trailed off. She takes it from him, surprised and grateful.

“It was all I could get back. Not as much as I promised. I'm sorry.” Thor said Sincerely.

“No, this is good. Thank you. This means I don't have to start from scratch...” Jane trailed off. She sits down and opens the notebook eagerly, then stops, a harsh realization clouding her face. Thor notices.

“What's wrong?” Thor asked.

“Shield , whatever they are. They're never going to let this research see the light of day.” Jane answered.

“You must do this. You must finish what you've started.” Thor replied.

“Why?” Jane wondered.

“Because you're right. It's taken so many generations for your people to get to this point. You're nearly there. You just need someone to show you how close you really are.” Thor remarked. Thor moves beside her, opens her notebook, turns to the page which bears a sketch of the Bifrost. He takes the pen from the notebook, begins to add to the sketch, leading from one point to another in space.

“Look -- your ancestors called it magic. You call it science. I come from a place where they're one and the same thing.” Thor finished.

We recognize that Thor is drawing the branches of Yggdrasil as she looks on, amazed and intrigued.

“What is it?” Jane asked.

“This is how my father explained it to me..... Your world is one of the Nine Realms of the Cosmos, linked to each other by the branches of Yggdrasil, the Worlds Tree. Now, you see it every day, without realizing. Images glimpsed through-- what did you call it?... (checks her notebook) ...this Hubble Telescope. So, Nine Realms...” Thor trailed off as They look at each other. She nods. They smile. This is going to be a long night.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Jane sleeps beside Thor on the blankets on the rooftop. He stares up at the night sky. She rolls close to him, nuzzles against him in her sleep. He looks down at her, beautiful in the moonlight, looks out at the town beyond her. When Thor realize Jane in a deep sleep He gets up and walks over to Y/n and see her lying on the ground looking up at the stars.

“You and Jane look cozy is the god of thunder falling for the Midgardian.” Y/n teased Thor with a smile.

“Jane is different.” Thor confessed.

“I would be giddy a God falling for me....Before I met you I would’ve thought that this was something out of a comic book... Don’t worry Thor all will work out.” Y/n grinned.

”How do you know that?” Thor questioned.

“I have this feeling that somethings about to happen tomorrow I don’t know, what you might want to get some sleep you may be Asgardian but right now you’re human. Y/n disclosed .

Thor sees a bottle of pills next to Y/n and confusion appears on his face.

“What are those?” Thor asked.

“Oh these are pills that block my power.” Y/n answered picking up the bottle.

“Why would you want to stop them.” Thor questioned.

“I had an accident when, I was younger I caused an earthquake and blackout an ever since then my father had me taken this pills to block half of my power. It’s why I have good control of them but When the pills are out of my system I loses control again.” Y/n explained.

“Your trying that’s all that matters.” Thor grinned.

Y/n smiles and gets up and makes a check mark in the air and Thor looks at her confused once again.

“What was that?” Wondered Thor.

“Every time I want to do something that I didn’t know I wanted to do I check mark the air.” Y/n revealed.

“What did you do?”

“Have a alien as my best friend.” Y/n said smiling then she walks away leaving a smiling Thor.

Part 8

#loki x reader #loki x black!reader #thor x reader #marvel x reader

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the-halo-of-my-memory · 4 years ago

Text

Tell Me You Love Me Anyway (rough draft - tease)

A/n: This probably has a billion errors but I feel like posting it anyway. This is only a tiny bit of what I have in mind. I could use as much feedback as possible for this.

---- [Act 1] ----

Maker, did Anders miss being drunk.

Justice hasn’t let him sway under the influence since their union. He sees it as a waste of time and senses.

But to lose one's senses was such a beautiful and intoxicated mess to be a part of.

Can you stop speaking nonsense?

It’s not nonsense, it’s passion.

It is a waste of time.

Anders chuckles, nearly spilling his useless drink in the process.

“What’s so funny, mage?”

It’s Fenris. He held a drink also, now flirting with drunkenness that will soon take him fully.

The two have only met not too long ago through a mutual friend, one Garrett Hawke. Anders liked Hawke enough. He was a fellow mage and Fereldan refugee who suffered loss before reaching Kirkwall. He came to his clinic a month ago asking for maps to the Deep Roads.

It sounded so ridiculous. People who went to the Deep Roads voluntarily must have a death wish. To want to walk in a place full of darkspawn and deepstalkers. A place with rocky terrain and putrid wet air. It was dark and in some places you could hardly see your own hand in front of your place. He could light a torch but it wasn’t worth accidentally burning someone.

He never wants to go there again. Especially not without Pounce.

Things changed though. For a favor, he asked for a favor himself.

Karl……..

He did love him…….and to see him like that……...made tranquil…….

It broke more than just his heart, it shattered his entire being.

Oh Karl…..

Back in the Circle, the two had agreed between kisses in a quiet nook away from prying eyes, that if either of them became tranquil, they would not want to live like that. There was no known cure. It was either be made a thoughtless pet of the Templars and the Chantry or death.

It wasn’t actually a plan that would happen. He didn’t think this would be an actual choice that he would make.

Oh maker, Karl…….

It has been a month since he had to kill him. He still feels the blood on his hands, the sound of his last breath, and how empty he felt when he fell upon the floor.

He still yearns to get a letter from him…..anything from him.

Despite everything, he had Hawke to thank. At least Karl has peace now. He can have the maps and himself for the expedition if needed.

Though he resented it at the time, he was glad he went to have drinks with Hawke the night after. Hearing his and Aveline’s story of loss before reaching Kirkwall brought him back from the pain.

Hawke had asked him to join him on another night like that.

“But you know, in much better spirits,” he said with a hand on the back of his neck. He swore he saw him turn a shade red underneath that smile and beard.

And here he is now.

He sat at a table with Fenris, Isabela, Varric, and Merrill. The women were giggling and whispering, Merrill turning pink and covering her mouth while Isabella said something too low for him to decipher. The men were talking about one of Varric’s tales.

“No, dwarf. I have never read any of your stories.”

“Have you ever thought about it?”

“No.”

“And why is that?”

“Varric, I can’t read.”

Well, that’s news…….

Wait, where’s Hawke? He was here just a second ago.

Anders spots him at the bar. Talking with someone, a human woman.

He’s never seen her before. She was short, maybe the same height as Merrill. She had deep warm mahogany skin, short dark curly hair, and wore a shirt opened at the neck and chest tucked into the tightest pair of trousers he’s ever seen.

Sweet Andraste, what an arse!

They speak for a short moment before they each grab a drink and walk over to wear the rest of them sat.

“Maker, Hawke!” Isabella yells, “How did you find this fine lady? Tell me, are you seeing anyone. Do you have a sister?”

Hawke’s friend laughs loud and boisterous, covering her mouth half way before she sits herself down.

“I’m not interested, I'm afraid. If I have a sister, I wouldn’t know. But I know some ladies who would love to give some company to a humorous and attractive lady such as yourself.”

“You’ll have to tell me all about them, kitten.”

She sat next to Anders and Hawke sat on the other side of her.

Now closer to him, he gets a good look at her.

Fine lady indeed. She had deep dark wide eyes like the night’s sky. Lips pursed as she took sips on her drink. Lots of skin covered down her naked neck and chest, teasing the swell of her breasts where her shirt is undone by the laces. She had small hands with gentle fingers tapping on the drink and the table. She wore no makeup and no jewelry.

Not that she needed them.

“Friends!” Hawke stood up, hitting and shaking the table on the way. “I want you to meet my friend, Valentine. Val, these are my friends. This is Varric, and that’s Merrill and that’s-” He introduces everyone by name and they all exchange words and greetings. When Anders’ was introduced, he said “hello there.” She replies with only one word.

“Pleasure.”

*******

I have no idea where I am.

It’s green all over. The grass is green and long and being blown by the wind. And the sky is blue and cloudless.

It’s not cold. But it was cold? There were clouds and snow and cold. And now…..not anymore.

I don’t understand. I was in the car with Jackson. Where is he?

I remember something. When we were driving…...I saw lights. Like headlights and then…….

Am I dead? Is this a dream? Am I in a coma? I don’t understand at all.

My suitcase is here. It has my stuff still in it. Didn’t expect that old vintage thing to hold up. My clothes are there, but it’s too warm for them. I’m wearing the only pair of shoes I brought. My notebook was also there, and I’m writing in it right now.

I don’t know what to do.

*******

The next time he meets Hawke’s friend is when they get ready for the Deep Roads expedition.

They were all together meeting with Bertrand in Hightown. He had to give credit to Hawke for making a colorful group of friends. He sees her near him, dressed in leather armor and carrying a long thin sword in a scabbard by her side.

Her eyes catch his and she waves a hello to him. He waves back.

Hawke and the dwarven brothers are discussing something when someone cries out.

It was from a woman with tied back greying hair, running towards the group with a worrisome look in her exhausted eyes.

“Excuse me, but I need to talk to my children”

Oh, that must be Hawke’s mother. He’s only heard nice things about her whenever Hawke opens up about his family.

He sees him and Carver walk over to the lady and he’s too far to overhear.

Some sort of disagreement starts and Carver is yelling and Hawke and their mother try to subdue him. There’s a lot of head shaking and hand waving. At last, Carver appears to accept whatever was that was said. Hawke walks away and his brother and mother stay where they stood.

Hawke walks over to his groups of friends looking lost in thought. A moment passes and then with both hands he waves over the group to come over.

“What happened?” Merrill asks.

“Nothing,” Hawke sighs. “Mother just wanted Carver to stay. He…..eventually agreed.”

“Now what?” Fenris crosses his arms, a knot between brows form.

“We have to decide who I am bringing on this expedition.” Hawke sighs once more. He takes in a good look at his companions and bobs his head side to side as if he’s rolling die to choose who he’ll bring.

“Alright! Besides Varric, I shall bring Anders and Valentine. Do you two agree?”

Fuck no.

“Of course, Hawke,” Anders instead says. It was inevitable.

“Sure,” Valentine nods with a small smile upon her lips.

“The rest of you can go about your business. We’ll be gone for a while in the meantime.”

Some murmurs of “alright,” “be careful,” and “see you soon,” were heard before the others left their separate ways.

Anders watches Hawke go back to the dwarven brothers, no doubt to wrap up a few things before they head out.

“So you were a grey warden, correct?” It was Valentine.

“Yes, I was.” She really was quite short. She was a whole head short of him, couldn’t look like she could put her head on his shoulder if she wanted.

“That’s a lifelong joining, isn’t it? I imagine they’re not happy having you…..displaced.”

That got a chuckle out of him.

“Yes, you could say that.”

“That’s too bad,” she kicks a pebble with the tip of her boot, her eyes looking into the sky and nowhere in particular. “I’m sure they’re doing fine without you. You have more important things like spelunking with us losers in demon infested caves.”

That got him to laugh out loud.

“Well when you put it like that, I’m even more grateful I left the wardens.”

When she laughs, she laughs with her being. She bends forward with her arms wrapped around her abdomen as if she was a tree swaying in the wind.

She’s kinda cute, isn’t she?

I do not see what this has to do with the task at hand.

Relax. It’s just an observation.

*******

I am in a country called Ferelden. I have never heard of this place before. Is that old English or whatever the fuck? I don’t know, my head hurts and I’m tired from all the travel.

It took me days by foot, but I eventually reached a small village called Draycott. I asked around for a place to stay and work. And luckily I did. Their innkeeper/pub owner was looking for someone to help clean and keep order in their establishment. He seemed like enough of a nice guy to trust for now. Everything is ancient. There is no electricity or indoor plumbing. Everyone uses candles, gets water from the well, and shits in a pot. I’m afraid to ask why that is.

I am currently writing in my journal in a room of my own by candle light in the late evening. I’m even using a quill and ink. It’s much harder than I thought. Hope I can read this later.

This place is so much more strange than I first thought.

This country and land is certainly beautiful. I believe it's either mid to late spring to early fall. Grass is long, the hills roll, mountains are tall, and the trees high.

But then I noticed the plant and wildlife. I have never seen these herbs or flowers or whatever the hell they are. They look like something out of a story book. And the animals. I’ve seen wolves and bears from a distance. Luckily, I haven't bothered them enough to attack me.

But then I noticed a crow. It had such a large beak with ruffled feathers and splashes of red?

And spiders. The most gigantic ones I have ever seen. They look like the size of horses! What the fuck??

I must’ve been hallucinating. I should get some rest. The people here like to wake at daybreak.

Farmers are insane.

*******

They have been in the deep roads for a few days.

It’s as claustrophobic and dark and all things awful as Anders last remembers.

He wished the warden commander was here. She must be so warm and cozy now being the queen of Ferelden.

And Pounce. His little mews and purrs was what really kept him going.

Well, that and screwing around with Nathaniel was also fun. He had the best expressions.

The company he has now however wasn't too bad. They certainly made an entertaining crowd.

“Garrett, if you had to choose, would you rather eat your shirt or your trousers?”

The echoes of Hawke’s belly laugh lasts almost a minute as they trek along. He had to hold on to his staff to keep himself upright. It was quite contagious and made himself, Varric, and Valentine laugh along with him.

“Maker Val, I knew I wouldn’t regret bringing you. I think I would eat my shirt. My shirt in particular today looks rather tasty.”

“I swear no one wants to eat their pants, it’s always the shirt.”

“Who the hell wants to eat their pants?” Varric raises a brow.

“I don't know, but I’m waiting for someone to tell me.”

Without daylight, it’s impossible to tell when it's dawn or near dusk. After crossing corridors and making quick work of darkspawn that lurked, they all agreed to make camp and rest.

Spare food and drink are brought out, bringing out better spirits for the exhausted party. Bottles of wine and flasks of water. Wrapped packs of dried fruit, meat, and nuts.

Words start spilling and conversations follow.

It never ceases to amaze Anders how well Hawke carries himself in social situations. He held a poise like a noble yet spoke like a child raised by pirates. Held confidence in his chest and said things like “Anders, can you help me get my hand out of this jar?”

He was like an affectionate pet.

“Val,” Hawke said. He sat next to Varric while Anders and Valentine sat opposite them. “Did you know that our friend Anders runs a clinic in Darktown?”

Valentine laughs.

“That’s very all of a sudden, Garrett. That would make you a healer, yes?” She looks at Anders now.

“That’s right,” he smiles back for politeness. “I just try to help the sick as much as I can.”

“That’s incredibly thoughtful of you. You must make decent coin as well.”

“Oh, I don’t charge.” Valentine nearly spits out as she drinks from a water flask.

“You don't?” Her eyes wide and brows raised. “That’s insane. How do you get by?”

“I get by by getting by. Also being dragged around by Hawke helps.”

“And you are incredibly welcomed!” Hawke laughs, so does Varric, Valentine, and Anders.

The group would soon pack their things and move on.

*******

NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE GIANT SPIDERS ARE REAL I HATE WHERE EVER THE FUCK I AM AT

ANYWAYS....

Life in the village is peaceful. I can’t complain.

Yeah sure, the food could be better and I have to shit in a pot but overall, I like it.

Not shaving is a big plus for me.

I’ve made the mistake of asking too many questions. Some of the things I don't know are common knowledge, causing people to look at me weird. Someone even asked if I had brain damage.

And then I realized having amnesia is a great excuse. Everyone now believes I have suffered such an injury. That’s my life now.

The innkeeper offered me a position to keep his rooms cleaned and naturally, I accepted. He also asked me to watch and possibly teach his young daughter to read and write along with watching her.

She is the dearest thing I’ve seen in a long time.

Her name is Wenona. She is nearly four years of age, has light brown hair that is always braided, has a freckled face, and wears homemade dresses.

She is mute. I have never heard her talk or make any noise. Her father says she’s only shy, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she was on the spectrum. She is nice nonetheless and gestures when she wants something like food. I speak to her with simple words but not any different than to the others i have spoken here in the village. She understands me just fine.

We have so far spent days outdoors, picking herbs and flowers and laying in the grass and staring at the clouds. Indoors I help her learn how to write, have tea parties, and cook and bake . I read to her every night before bed and sometimes I sing to her.

I’ve also realized that this girl has no friends. I’ve seen a few other children here, but they never go up to here to talk or play. I asked her myself and she nodded. I told her that she was my friend and the look in her eyes…..

Learning about the world through her is an amazing experience too.

They have a religion here called Andrastanism. It sounds similar to Christianity, but instead of God, they have a maker and instead of a son, the maker has a bride named Andraste. I’ve read their biblical stories to Wenona.

I still have so much to learn.

****

#i honestly dont know if my writing is good anymore #but thats not gonna stop me from being self indulgent af #hopefully ill finish this in the future #anders is a cutie fight me #my writing #anders x valentine #anders #valentine volk #da #da2

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dazeduchess · 4 years ago

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The Waifs and The Strays || A Duff McKagan Fanfic

The Waifs and The Strays are trying to make it, like every other band in Los Angeles. The way to the top is never easy, but Rianna and her bandmates were slowly getting the recognition they deserved. However, faith has some suprises in store when a bass player falls in love with a bass player.

8:46 PM

Tommie puked in a trashcan behind me. That was the third time he threw up in the hour that we've been here. The dressing room was small, cluttered and full of posters of various bands, but clean fortunately. I hated the disgusting piss smelling dressing rooms most bars had on the Sunset Strip. But this was The Whiskey of course, I reminded myself. Shivers went right down my spine and my stomache turned. Maybe I should not think about the huge impact this gig could have on our career as a band. Isabela tightened her iconic ponytale. Her long brown hair fell over her small shoulders. In my opinion she was the most talented person in our band and I was proud to call her my best friend.

"I'm alright", Tommie said full of nausea and pain. Poor tommie. "Shouldn't had all those beers, man", I said to him. "Beers, you mean liquid courage?" Sjoerd said in a mocking way. I chuckled. Sjoerd was sitting beside me, teasing his spiky platinum blonde hair up. A guy with short hair was rare these days in Los Angeles. I finished my own blonde locks a whole lot of hairspray and looked in the mirror, pleased with my appearance. "Ready, guys?" I asked while turning to my bandmates. Sjoerd gave me a smirk and Isabela nodded her head eagerly. She was never the nervous type. Armed with my bass, I walked over to Tommie. "Dude, your make-up is all smudged." Tommie quickly glanced in the mirror, put out his tong and raised the devil horns. "No, man, this is punk rock." I laughed. He could be so silly sometimes. One moment he's throwing up, the next he is ready to rock 'n roll. One of the soundguys popped his head around the corner of the door: "You guys are on in 5 minutes." "Let's fucking do this" I said, while trying not to trip over my new platform heels. They were ridiculously high. Maybe I should have just put on my Doc. Martens, but it sure as hell was too late for that now.

Sjoerd led the way as Tommie, Isa and I followed. As we stood on the side of the stage, I couldn't stop shaking my leg. I had this weird feeling that my life was about to change forever. For the good or the worse, I couldn't quite figure that out yet. "Here they fucking are! Make some fucking noise for The Waifs and The Strays!" Thankfully most of the crowd clapped and I even heard some people scream. I gave Isabela a reassuring smile, but she was only focused on the stage. This was her dream.

The lights went dark en Sjoerd sprinted out on the stage full of energy. "How are you feeling tonight, ladies and gentleman?", Sjoerd screamed from the top of his lungs when the spotlight shone on him, "We're here to rock your fucking brains out!" We could do this, we were ready, I thought. Before I could second guess myself, Tommie slapped his drumsticks together in the air: "One, Two, Three, Four". I started strumming my bass like a maniac, nodding my head to the beat, while I was getting lost in the sound of Isa's guitar and my bass.

After the first song finished, I started to relax. The nervousness slowly excited my body, but adrenaline and dopamine remained. I started to look at my surroundings. I've been in The Whiskey a thousand times before, but not on this side of the stage. A whole row of girls in the front were dancing and cheering for Sjoerd. He loved to flirt with the crowd. I don't know how he did it, but he had this effect on women when he was on stage. A bra flew right past my face, as I walked behind Sjoerd to Isa. It didn't even suprise me, as this was not the first time it had happened. Isa was jumping on the beat. Boy, did she have moves. I looked in the crowd and saw that people were jumping with her. This made me smile, they were really loving us!

While inspecting our public my eyes fell on the sidetables of The Whiskey. I couldn't make out many people as the lights were blinding me, but at the very first table I saw five men sitting at the round booth. A blonde one was jumping up and down on his seat and it was clear that he was enjoying the show. The others were a little less enthousiastic. A guy with long curly black hair with a cigarette dangling from his mouth was nodding his head to the music. The tall guy with black hair and a shorter one with long straight hair were just watching us.

The last one, a tall blonde guy, downed a quarter of a bottle of vodka. As he slammed the bottle on the table, he looked straight at me. I could not see much of his face, but his eyes were so intense. The whole air in the room changed. We stared at eachother for which felt like an eternity. It became harder for me to breath. I was breathing faster and faster, trying to get more oxygen. Was I going to hyperventilate on the fucking stage over some guy? I felt weird and off. Isabella must have noticed something because she nudged me in the ribs and shot me a concerned look. This was enough for me to get out of this trance-like state. I looked away from the man and stumbled back to the other side of the stage. Where was my Jack, I thought, I need something to drink. Sjoerd ended the song with a stretched out "Yeah!" and I found my bottle next to one of the speakers. As the strong liquor entered my throath with a burning sensation, my mind was going crazy. I had to know who this guy was.

Read the second chapter here!

#gunsnroses #gnr #duff #izzy stradlin #duff mckagan #axl rose #slash #saul hudson #fanfic #gnr fanfic #guns n roses fanfic #steven adler #bassplayer #sunset strip #whiskey a go go

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gravityfissure · 4 years ago

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[meta] What, if any, games, movies, books, tv shows, etc. have you drawn influence from for your character?

Okay so round 2, much in the same vein for Arthur there are... A lot. Possibly even more things that influence and inspire where Otto’s muse and views comes from. That said in writing this there are also a LOT of similarities between the characters I can pick out certain attributes and to be honest there’s a lot of crossover with the traits and characterisations highlighted.

Namely: playful and proactive, self-serving yet loyal to those that meet his criteria as to who is deserving of it. A grifter by nature that will approach almost any situation if he feels he’ll get something out of it while equally hoping that one day someone might actually bother to ask him (and maybe give him a true reason) to stay.

Dorian - Dragon Age: Inquisition

Uh, the heir of a famous magical dynasty? A flair of magical talent that made him the envy of his peers? Studied at one of the best colleges for the magical arts before being kicked out and privately tutored before eventually vanishing and being found by Magister Gereon Alexius who offered to take him as his apprentice eventually becoming a fully-ranked enchanter. A pariah for opposing every fault his homeland is renowned for?

It’s been years since I’ve played DA:I and Dorian always was one of my favourite characters but tbh I completely forgot his background and it’s only in revisiting it now I actually realise the similarities in the framework of their characters/development/story line. Not to mention the fact they both enjoy playful flirtation and witty banter and oppose the things they don’t fit into their view of the world. They will probably do the right thing, but that doesn’t mean they might not take their sweet ass time in actually getting into a situation.

Isabela - Dragon Age II and Inquisition

AND AGAIN. Isabela’s a great character - a pirate scourge of coastlines and nations around the world who values fun, freedom and getting ahead in life. They both value solving situations in clever and devious ways and getting ahead even if it means being somewhat selfish when they’re dealing with other people, example: Otto conning Deirdre out of $28k when she tried to cover for Regan or those plans he has to try and record a banshee scream? They’re both always down for trying to squeeze that little bit extra out of a person. If it one ups them in life and people are gullible enough to fall for it well... They really did it to themselves didn’t they?

But that doesn’t mean there aren’t depths to that hardened persona they both present. There are actual feelings and things hidden behind the wall and appearance they both present to the world. And underneath it all they’re both afraid of being left behind, but figure it’s best to push people away before they decide to leave of their own volition. At least that way they can say they have some control over the situation..

Sera - Dragon Age: Inquisition

Apparently this is a DA characters list but you know what sue me. x) So NEXT on the list is Sera, an elven archer who is incredibly impulsive and reactionary. She takes pure delight in humbling the established authority she views as arrogant and selfish. It’s less about what’s right in the grand scheme of things but more about what’s right in that very moment. She doesn’t believe in actions taken for a greater good, instead viewing it as just another excuse to hurt others undeserving of such treatment because it’s easier than making the truly hard choices in life.

Felix Dawkins - Orphan Black

Look Felix is one of the many fascinating characters on Orphan Black. Don’t get me wrong there are SO many and it’s a great show. But Felix is a character whose very existence proves that you can have a very effeminate, boisterous, loud, witty gay character and not have him be limited to the perpetuation of the sassy gay friend stereotype. Why? Because he has a whole complex personality beyond just that aspect of his life. He’s got to deal with real life issues on top of all the drama clone club brings into his life and he deals and he survives and he cOPES.

Not to mention he’s a positive representation of foster children being happy, positive representation of LGBTQ+ characters and gives positive representation of sex workers. Not to mention on top of all that representation you see how he’s smart as hell, the only person who knows Sarah well enough to keep her on track. The BEST uncle to Kira and one of the most supportive characters on the show.

Sarah - Orphan Black

Felix’s foster-sister, another character that shows the positive and complex dynamic that foster families tend to have while also demonstrating the fascinating found-family dynamic with clone club. Sarah’s interesting because she’s a natural chameleon, she’s street-smart and tough, a born outsider living on the fringes by her wits while in possession of a dark sense of humour that sees her by.

Sarah and Otto have a rather morally ambiguous compass, they’re both characters who swing between being very self-serving and selfish and acting for the greater good when they decide it’s needed. Not to mention the act as if they don’t care about other people’s issues (see clone club) when actually it transpires they both might just care a little more than they actually let on.

Garcia Flynn - Timeless

Unfortunately Garcia fits the my favourite character type: tall, dark, snarky, sassy antihero motivated fiercely by love and willing to do things of questionable morality against a greater evil, self-aware and doesn’t make excuses for his behaviour, but isn’t wringing his hands over it either. A character who so dearly loves the people in his life (see revenge for his wife and daughter) so much so he’s still fighting for them 5 years later just to be alive and not even to have anything to do with him again because he knows the things he’s done are enough the he could never go back to being that person for them. The man who loved his mum and went on a trip just to make her happy and save his brother. When he truly cares for someone he does EVERYTHING for them while somehow having none of the toxic jealous possessive business, despite his well-attested Garbage Drama in other departments, and just generally being a mature adult and an essentially good person who has gone down some really dark places and is finally rediscovering what he’s buried and lost. Look man, I’m a suuuuuuuuuuuuucker for found family, enemies to lovers, and villain becomes weird family member. And he covers all of those, so yes.

There’s a lot of that I’m planning and drawing on for Otto, this weird currently antagonistic little self-serving shit who is out for his own ends but maybe along the way finds some semblence of a conscious and maybe has a fair few moral dilemmas and self-questioning moments along the way? Who maybe finds friends (and even love?) Who has to deal with FEELINGS and things he’s repressed for years because of the things he’s done just to survive the life he fell into? Uh, yes give me give me give me.

Jesse Custer - Preacher

Okay, so this one’s kind of another given. Jesse’s another character I’m fascinated with because before Genesis’ arrival he was a down upon his luck preacher. A man who was trying so hard to fit into his dad’s ideal and not let the life he had before affect his day to day. Except it all goes to hell in a handbasket because of course it does.

Jesse essentially gains the ability to make anyone do anything he says. And that power? It’s addictive, and we see the struggle he goes through to learn how to control and manipulate it to his own end. To begin with he tries to right wrongs, to tell people to stop doing the bad things they’re doing in their lives and fix them so they’re better people but with each act that power and god-complex grows. It goes to his head until we meet the moronic messiah Humperdoo and Jesse eventually agrees to take his place. The messiah-complex and power corruption is complete, and the repercussions of his choices are devastating especially with how they impact Cassidy or Tulip and the repercussions in Angelville.

Much like Otto’s own magic, the more its used the more enticing it is to carry on using it for more and more things. At first it was small deeds, little acts of good until Otto in kind started to realise that good deeds weren’t enough to make a change. They weren’t enough for other people around him and with each act it grew and grew - and it continues to grow. The question is to what level? And if it ever got out of control, would he ever know how to stop it?

Crowley - Good Omens

An overall non-threatening demon, who tries to be “evil” in his own way to fit into the role his society (other demons) expect of him. Crowley wants to save the world (for his own reasons) and can be rather self-serving in certain moments. There’s plenty of times he tried to convince Aziraphale to run away with him and let everything else forgive the irony but for lack of a better term “go to hell” but he always comes around in the end (typically to a Queen track) to help when it really counts for something.

Not to mention his flare for the dramatic, very rarely thinking things through, with many of his own plans backfiring on him.

Sound familiar?

Wrench - Watch Dogs 2

Part-hacker and full-fledged anarchist who wears a freaky mask with LED displays capable of bizarre emoticons. He's vulgar, crude, entertaining and an absolute adrenaline junkie who lives on the edge. He's jokingly called the wrench because he's the wrench you throw into somebody's gears to grind them to a halt.

The final one on the list, because it’s a side I haven’t yet played into so much but I’m curious to given means and opportunity to. Otto does have some inclination towards an anarchistic nature, if a system doesn’t seem to work he isn’t afraid to speak out or more likely act out against it. Whether it’s in the greater good or not isn’t so much relevant rather that he would happily take a torch and burn something to the ground if it meant starting again with something new and better in its place. It’s definitely something I want to explore more down the line.

I also find it interesting the whole concept of “hiding behind a mask” which is something wrench quite literally does. Both have built personas to defend themselves from people breaking through and seeing that what actually exists on the other side is a rather shy and awkward person who tries to “act out” and be “dramatic” in an attempt to get attention from a world in which there’s so much noise how could anyone ever feel like their voice mattered let alone be heard unless they started shouting “HEY, LOOK AT ME” at the top of his lungs?

#Anonymous #answered #wickedsanon #meta #headcanon #// this GOT SO LONG

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shannaraisles · 5 years ago

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Comfort & Ploy - Chapter 2

Carver Hawke needs a girlfriend for the festive season. Filipa Trevelyan needs an excuse not to spend Satinalia with her parents. Best friends pretending to be lovers … what could possibly go wrong?

[Read on AO3]

*****

"Thank the Maker that's over!"

Carver snorted in agreement with Filipa's declaration as the taxi cab bore them away from Garrett's apartment building and toward their hotel. That had been ... excruciating, in its own way. He probably could have handled it if they had only been fooling his brother and Isabela, but to suddenly find that Mila Rutherford was also Mila Trevelyan, Filipa's older sister? He had almost blurted out the truth several times, and she knew it. That was why he had the mark of her fingernails imprinted in his thigh, due to the number of times she'd had to pinch him under the table.

"I really am dreadfully sorry," he said again, finally allowed to apologize without being cut off mid-word. "I honestly didn't know that you were that Pip."

"And I didn't know that Mila's musician friend was your brother," Filipa pointed out, a lot calmer than he had expected her to be in the circumstances. "We're in a mess of our own making, but it's all fine, Carver. Honestly, I'll ... I'll think of something."

He sighed, absently wrapping a long arm around her shoulders to hug her, both grateful for her continued insistence on his deception and deeply apologetic for dropping her into a lie to her own family. He knew he was lucky that she'd even agreed to it in the first place, much less kept it up throughout an excruciating meal in which everyone and their partner had wanted to know all about his new relationship.

"We can at least tell Mila and Cullen," he began, but Filipa sighed, shaking her head.

"If we do that, they'll tell Alys," she told him, "and that little girl can't keep a secret to save her life if there isn't something in it for her. I'm afraid we're going to have to keep it up in front of my family as well."

"Serves me right for having the idea in the first place," he muttered, feeling her head thump onto his shoulder. It wasn't unusual; away from his brother, he was a pretty tactile person, and Filipa had never objected to absentminded hugs from her enormous best friend.

"Don't do that," his friend said, poking his ribs with one finger. "We're in this together, right? At least half of this is my fault, so don't you go getting all broody and grumpy on me. If we're going to do this, we're going to have fun doing it. Right?"

"Even though the odds of us being forced into a public kiss just went through the roof?" he asked pointedly.

"Even though," she agreed, firm in her certainty. "It isn't as though we're not used to being all huggy and friendly. We just have to do it in front of family for once. That's all. I'm sure it will be enough."

"Again with the confidence," he muttered, chuckling as she poked at him again. "Stop that."

"Be confident with me, then!"

Laughing, he batted at her hands, each of them lurching a little as the cab came to a halt in front of The Warden's Arms, one of his favorite inns in the city. He always stayed here when he visited Garrett - it had got to the point where Duncan, the owner, could tell it was him just from the greeting over the phone.

Within a few minutes, they were pushing their way inside, smiling and far more comfortable than they had been at his brother's house. The pub seemed busy, but not overly crowded, allowing them to make their way to the bar without barging into anyone relaxing with a pint and friends as they passed. The barman grinned as he caught sight of Carver.

"That time of year again?" he asked, already reaching for the ledger with the room reservations in it. "How time does fly."

"Hallo, Alistair," Carver greeted his old friend, setting his bag down to rummage in a pocket for his card.

"I thought I was paying?" Filipa objected, digging into her pocket for her own wallet.

"No, I'm fairly sure I'm the one who arranged this farce," Carver responded, handing his card to the barman. "Alistair, this is Pip."

The tall Alistair, who never ceased to have a smile on his face despite the fact that Carver knew bar-tending was a deeply stressful job at times, offered over one of his flirtier smiles to Filipa.

"Lovely to meet you, Pip," he said. "Welcome to Denerim."

"Thank you, Alistair," she answered, her own smile just a little too warm for Carver's liking.

Wait a second. That was a ridiculous reaction. Filipa was his friend, she was here doing this as a favor to him. He had no right to get stupidly jealous just because she might be flirting with a handsome man who wasn't shy about flirting back within boundaries. She wasn't his girlfriend. Well, to the outside world for the sake of an easy Satinalia, she was, but ... He frowned inwardly. He was confusing himself now.

"Here we go," Alistair said, handing over a room key. "Room 24, all ready for you."

Carver waited for the other key to be handed to him. There was no other key.

"I'm sure I reserved two rooms," he said, glancing worriedly at Filipa.

Alistair frowned, flipping through the ledger quickly. He shook his head.

"No, Duncan put you down here as one room," he said, worry creasing his face as he looked up at them. "We're fully booked, Carver. I don't have any more rooms to give you."

Carver opened his mouth, feeling the frustration boiling up inside him, and abruptly calmed as Filipa's hand touched his arm. She was looking up at him with that peculiarly gentle way she had; a sort of reassuring expression that never failed to stop him making a prat of himself for the sake of his pride.

"It's not like we haven't shared a room before," she reminded him. "It's an honest mistake, after all. Maybe another room will be available later on in the week?"

Alistair glanced down at the book in his hands.

"Looks like there'll be a free room in three days," he offered. "I can pencil it in as yours, if you want."

Carver hesitated. He didn't like to move about once he was settled, and he knew Filipa was the same way. And she was right - they had shared a room before now, though admittedly it had been in the company of seven other people. It wasn't as dreadful a thought as it might have seemed.

"Shall we see how tonight goes?" Filipa suggested, seeing his indecision. "It is a busy season, and if we're all right tonight, then that room could go to someone else who needs it without worry. Right?"

She looked at Alistair, who was glancing between the pair of them with a speculative look on his face. He blinked, apparently forcing himself out of his thoughts when he realized she was speaking to him.

"That would be a big help," he admitted. "Look, I'll hold the reservation in pencil tonight, and you can let me know in the morning if he snores too much for you to stay with him more than one more night."

Filipa laughed, and again, Carver felt a pang of annoyance at the flirting. What was wrong with him? He bent to pick up the bags, passing the key to her.

"Thanks, Alistair," he managed, though he was certain he sounded off. "Dinner still served here? Do we need to book a table?"

"Table booking comes with the room rez," Alistair reminded him. "Kitchen closes at nine, I'd suggest getting down here before half eight if you want a meal."

"Sounds good to me," Filipa said, smiling up at Carver. "C'mon, I want a shower."

"All right, all right."

Relaxing a little more now she was walking away from Alistair's appreciative gaze beside him, Carver lead the way out of the tap room and up the stairs. He knew this inn like the back of his hand, and room 24 was one of the better rooms. As he peered in over Filipa's shoulder when the door opened, he realized why.

There was only one bed.

Apparently Duncan had absorbed the information that Carver was bringing someone with him, but not that he needed an extra room. The bed was a divine, a size created specifically for couples who needed the extra inches, but still ... Just one bed. Sharing a bed. With Filipa. Who was staring right along with him.

He risked a glance down at his friend just in time to see her burst out laughing, sagging into his side as she absolutely guffawed with merriment, pointing wordlessly at the bed and cackling like a woman gone completely round the bend. Carver sighed, dropping his bag on the floor to get an arm around her before she fell over. He'd seen her collapse in giggles too many times to want anyone to find her keeled over and snorting with laughter half in and half out of their room. With an easy lift, he got her a couple of inches off her feet and walked into the room, depositing her on said bed before returning for his bag and closing the door.

"Are you done?" he asked, mildly irritated by her amusement and, if he was honest, rather more relieved by it. At least she wasn't flying off the handle at the very thought of having to share this space with him.

Filipa waved a hand at him, still fighting to get her giggles under control.

"Your face!" she declared, laying a hand over her eyes in an attempt not to burst out laughing once again in the face of his expression. "You look like someone just told you to strip and dance the Rivaini rhumba in front of your parents!"

"I do not!"

Despite his annoyance, he couldn't deny that his best friend's laughter was deeply infectious, thumping down onto the bed beside her to get his revenge for her laughter by tickling her until she squealed for mercy. Which she did, eventually, but only when he had her pinned down with both her hands wrapped in one of his, and her legs trapped beneath his thigh.

"I give, I give!" Grinning up at him, Filipa took in a deep breath, her cheeks taut with that gleeful expression on her face. "I'll sleep on the couch."

"You will not," he told her firmly. "The least I can do is let you have the bed."

"Oh, so you'll give up a seven foot bed in favor of a four foot couch, will you?" she argued. "I don't think so. If we're going through with this week of glorious torture, I am not putting up with you being grumpy just because you didn't sleep well!"

"Me? You're the one who gets grumpy on bad sleep," he defended himself, trying not to blush as she wriggled.

He was acutely aware, as he had never been before, of just how ... feminine ... his best friend really was. Having her pinned down beneath him was doing nothing for his feeling of being completely off-balance. Filipa rolled her eyes at him, gently tugging on her hands, and he released her with a surprising amount of reluctance, rolling onto his back to lie on the bed at her side. In spite of the awkwardness of the situation, it didn't feel wrong to lie on a bed with her.

"Maybe we should just share," he blurted out, before his brain could grab the words and force them down a chimney somewhere. "There's plenty of room, after all."

"Are you sure?"

He tilted his head to find her looking at him, her smile faded from everywhere but her eyes as she considered him.

"Why not?" he said, shrugging. "It isn't as though I'm going to ravish you in your sleep."

"Sure you trust me not to ravish you in your sleep?" she countered wickedly, catching his hand before he could poke at her ticklish side again. "Okay, okay. I do solemnly swear not to get handsy in bed. Satisfied?"

"Very, thank you."

He grinned back at her, heaving himself up to sit and look around the room. It was one of Duncan's best rooms, he thought, inwardly groaning at the realization that the inn-owner had obviously decided that Carver was bringing a girlfriend or boyfriend with him and therefore needed a special room for the purpose. He was going to have words with that man if he caught him in the next week.

"Didn't you want a shower?" he asked Filipa curiously.

There was no answer. He glanced down, finding his friend dozing off on the soft covers beside him. Well, it had been a long day. They had been up before dawn to get to Kirkwall and catch the boat, and her seasickness would not have helped with her energy levels. Let her nap for a little while - he could take his own shower without embarrassment and wake her up with time to have her own before dinner.

With a fond smile, he gently maneuvered her out of her coat and boots, tucking his arms beneath her back and knees to lift her up and set her head on the pillow. He pulled the throw up and over her shoulder, catching his hand just before he stroked her hair. That was weird, and they had promised each other it wouldn't get weird. She was his best friend. She was doing him a favor.

Thank the Maker she was asleep, though. He had something rather insistent to take care of in the shower.

#comfort & ploy #carver hawke #oc - filipa trevelyan #alistair theirin #modern au #dear friend universe #fake relationship #best friends #there was only one bed #le gasp

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pikapeppa · 5 years ago

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Fenris/f!Hawke and the Inquisition: Demands of the Qun

Chapter 36 of Lovers In A Dangerous Time (i.e. Fenris the Inquisitor) is up on AO3!

In which Fenris tackles the Iron Bull’s loyalty mission, with colourful backup from Dorian and Cole. Read on AO3 instead.

***************************

Dorian took a deep breath. Then, with his nose wrinkled as though he was entering a filthy outhouse, he stepped out of the cabin. “All right, let’s get this over with,” he said.

Toby wagged his tail in encouragement, and Fenris rolled his eyes and pulled up his hood against the constant rain. “I’ll remind you that it was your idea to join us here,” he said pointedly as he led Dorian and the others out of the Hessarians’ compound.

Dorian glanced at the ever-present lush evergreens as though they had personally offended him. Then he gave Fenris a charming smile. “Fenris, Fenris. I was thinking of you. I knew how tragically sad you would be without my witty remarks to brighten your journey.”

Fenris grunted noncommittally, and Hawke slung one arm around Dorian’s neck. “Well, I think it’s sweet that you came to support Bull on this mission,” she said.

Dorian scoffed loudly – too loudly. “My dear Hawke, that is not why I came,” he said. “I came to crush those poor Venatori fools who give my country a bad name. And to support our fair Inquisitor, of course.” He shot Fenris another debonair smile.

Fenris didn’t bother to look at him. “Sorry, Dorian, but you are not my type.”

“Hey,” Varric protested. “That’s our joke.”

Fenris smirked at him, and Hawke chuckled. “Boys, boys, no need to be jealous,” she said. She curled a possessive arm around Fenris’s waist. “Fenris is mine, so you can both back off.”

“Fasta vass,” Fenris muttered.

Varric and Dorian chuckled, and they continued on their way to the meeting point where Bull and his qunari contact would be waiting. During the short trek, Varric and Hawke chatted quietly about an upcoming plot twist in the next chapter of Swords and Shields 2; Dorian, meanwhile, seemed fascinated by Cole’s renewed spirit-isms.

“So that’s it, then?” he said to Cole. “No more curiosity about human things such as eating and drinking?”

Cole blinked at him. “Food and drinks are good. They do many things: filling, soothing, healing and hoping.”

Dorian shot Fenris a nonplussed look, then thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “I suppose that’s something of an answer.”

“But sometimes they’re habits,” Cole went on. “Too much, too full, overflowing and flooding to hide the hurt. But the hiding is weak, like the wine in the tavern where your father’s men found you.”

Dorian wilted and carefully adjusted his own hood over his hair. “And we’re back to talking about me, I see.”

“You’re happier now,” Cole said mildly. “You don’t drink like that anymore. The hurt is still there, tangled with the love, but he helps.”

Dorian raised one eyebrow. “‘He’? Who do you mean?”

Ah, Fenris thought. He was fairly sure he knew who Cole meant, and he was also fairly sure Dorian didn’t really want Cole to say what he was likely to say next. But before Fenris could warn Cole not to speak, he was already answering Dorian’s question, and it was just as revealing as Fenris predicted it would be.

“‘Slowly, kadan. Take your time. There’s no need to hurry.’” Cole’s gaze drifted vaguely from the sky to the trees and back. “It was always a rush before, panic beating in your ears even while you wanted what you wanted, but you can be yourself now.”

Dorian sighed loudly and rubbed his face. “Venhedis fasta vass.”

“Cole, that’s enough,” Fenris ordered. “We’ve spoken about this. Do not talk about such intimate moments in public.”

“Don’t talk about them ever, more like,” Dorian muttered.

Cole ducked his head. For a moment, he looked like his old self. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you,” he said to Dorian.

Dorian sighed, then waved his hand. “It’s all right. You meant well.”

Fenris gave Cole a stern look. “Go speak with Hawke and Varric,” he said. He was still hoping that Varric and Hawke’s influence would help Cole act more normal, even if he was fully a spirit now.

Cole nodded, then disappeared. Dorian shot Fenris a half-hearted smile. “Getting here must have been a highly enjoyable three days of travel. I don’t suppose I’m the only one whose dirty secrets were aired for everyone to enjoy.”

Fenris huffed. “It was an arduous three days, yes. He targeted each of us at one point or another.” Cole had been more vocal than usual in the wake of the amulet’s activation – so much so that he’d even made Hawke cry at one point. But she’d claimed it was a good kind of crying, so Fenris had reluctantly refrained from imposing major restrictions on Cole’s nosy behaviour, despite feeling more leery about Cole than before.

Solas approached Fenris and Dorian. “There is no need for concern,” he assured them. “Cole is simply adjusting. He was uncertain of his own motivations before. He is certain now, of himself and his purpose. He will readjust to his natural state in time, and the… commentary will likely even out.”

Dorian snorted delicately. “Sooner than later, I hope. I’m not particularly keen to have my every passing fancy spoken aloud for the rest of this trip.”

Solas nodded an acknowledgement, then fell back to join Cole and the others. When they were alone, Fenris glanced at Dorian.

“‘Kadan’?” he said quietly.

Dorian tsked. “Don’t you start. You’re worse than Cole.”

Fenris ignored this. “It must be serious now, if he is calling you an endearment.”

Dorian shot him a pointed look. “I don’t hear any endearments passing between you and Hawke. Does that mean you aren’t serious?”

Fenris raised his eyebrows, then shrugged. “Fine. I won’t speak of it.”

They walked in silence for a while. Then Dorian sighed loudly. “All right, fine. I… I care for him, all right? He’s a brute and a lummox, and yet I care for him.”

Fenris frowned. “You are still worried about what people will think?”

Dorian rubbed his chin nervously. “I… no, I suppose not,” he said slowly. “I…”

Then Cole spoke from behind Fenris, causing Dorian to jump. “‘Wishing but wondering, wounded and wistful. What if he doesn't want me after?’”

Dorian scowled at Cole. Fenris simply shot Cole a reproving look before turning to Dorian again. “Is that what worries you? Being rejected?”

“Fasta vass, the pair of you,” Dorian complained. “You’re like sharks. Very poorly dressed sharks, I might add.” He gazed disdainfully at Fenris’s travelling clothes.

Again, Fenris ignored his deflection. “If this has been going on for weeks—”

“Eight weeks and four days,” Cole interjected dreamily.

“... then I doubt he is going to discard you now,” Fenris finished.

Dorian scoffed. “‘Discard’! Such a flattering word choice, thank you.”

His tone was humorous, but he was twisting one of his many silver rings around his finger. Fenris gave him a frank look. “Dorian. Would you prefer to wallow in uncertainty, or would you prefer to be happy?” He was being very blunt and he knew it, but it was terribly frustrating to watch Dorian dithering like this when his feelings were so clear.

And now Fenris understood how Varric and Isabela must have felt while watching him and Hawke tip-toeing around each other for all those years in Kirkwall.

Dorian shot him a cautious look, and Fenris steadily returned his gaze. Then Dorian shrugged irritably and dropped his hands to his sides. “I’ll be happy when we survive this nonsensical encounter,” he said. He gave Fenris a slightly resentful look. “I still don’t know what possessed you to agree to an alliance with the qunari, of all people.”

“I didn’t agree to an alliance,” Fenris said. “I agreed to cooperate to destroy a red lyrium smuggling operation for our mutual benefit.”

Dorian lifted one eyebrow. “Does Bull know that?”

“Yes,” Fenris said impatiently. “I told him so as soon as he proposed it.”

Dorian looked at him in unguarded surprise. “And he was fine with it?”

“Yes,” Fenris said.

“Hmm,” Dorian said noncommittally.

Fenris pursed his lips, then sighed. “I am also surprised as well that they accepted my terms,” he admitted. “The qunari are hardly known for compromise.”

Dorian snorted. “Well, that’s a grossly downplayed understatement if ever I’ve heard one.”

Fenris grimaced. A few minutes later, they caught sight of Bull’s tall horned head, well as the Chargers’ much shorter ones. As Fenris and the others drew nearer, he noted one stranger among the group: a young elven man with brown hair and sharp green eyes.

“Boss! Glad you could make it,” Bull said cheerfully as they approached. He waved to the young elf. “This is Gatt. We worked together in Seheron.”

Fenris raised his eyebrows. Given his youth and his race, Gatt must once have been a Tevinter slave. And if he and Bull had worked together, Gatt would have been on Seheron at the same time as Fenris.

He nodded a cautious greeting. “Shanedan. I am Fenris,” he said.

Gatt raised his eyebrows at the Qunlat greeting, then lifted his chin slightly. “Shanedan, Inquisitor,” he said. “I’ve heard about you from Hissrad. He says you’re a former slave, not unlike myself.”

Hawke sauntered over to Fenris’s side. “Another elven qunari!” she said brightly. “I don’t suppose you know an elven girl named Tallis, do you? About my height, my age, red hair, very pretty…”

Gatt frowned. “That could be anyone. ‘Tallis’ isn’t a name, it’s a title.” He folded his arms. “And are you assuming that all elven qunari know each other?”

Hawke’s eyes went wide, and she clapped her hands over her mouth. “Fuck. Andraste’s ass. I’m an ass.” She grimaced apologetically. “I’m so sorry. I swear I’m not a complete idiot of a human. Well, not all the time, at least.”

Fenris shook his head in fond exasperation, then gestured to Hawke. “Gatt, this is my wife, Hawke–”

“Rynne Hawke,” Gatt interjected. He was studying Hawke with an appraising look that belied his young age. “I’ve heard of you as well, though not just from Hissrad’s reports. You’re known in Qunandar.”

Hawke looked at Fenris in alarm. “Shit. The price you pay for shattering a frozen Arishok, I suppose?”

Fenris grimaced and shrugged. On Fenris’s other side, Dorian folded his arms. “Hissrad? What is that?” he said archly.

“It’s my title,” Bull said. “Because I was assigned to secret work. You can translate it as ‘keeper of illusions’, or–”

“Liar,” Gatt interrupted. “It means ‘liar’.”

Bull frowned. “Well, you don’t have to say it like that.”

Gatt gave him a tiny smirk, then turned to Fenris once more. “I’m glad you agreed to come. The Tevinter Imperium is bad enough without the influence of this Venatori cult.”

Fenris opened his mouth to agree, but Dorian cut in before he could speak. “Yes. Filthy, decadent brutes, the lot of them,” he said loudly. “I’m certain life would be so much better for all of us under the Qun.”

Bull gave Dorian a patient look. “Dorian…”

Gatt cut him off. “It was for me, after the qunari rescued me from slavery in Tevinter. I was eight.” He folded his arms. “The Qun isn’t perfect, but it gave me a better life.”

“Yes, one free from all that pointless free will and independent thought,” Dorian said snidely. “Such an improvement.”

Hawke and Varric grimaced awkwardly, and Solas narrowed his eyes. Fenris gave Dorian an arch look. “You really wish to speak of free will in Tevinter to two former slaves?” he said flatly.

Dorian frowned, then dropped his gaze and inspected his fingernails casually. “Fair enough, I suppose.”

Gatt unfolded his arms. “I’m not here to convert anyone. All I care about is stopping this red lyrium from reaching Minrathous.” He looked at Fenris. “If this new form of lyrium helps them seize power in Tevinter, the war with the Qunandar could get worse.”

Bull grunted in agreement. “With this stuff, the Vints could make their slaves into an army of magical freaks.”

A crawling sort of discomfort crept down the back of Fenris’s neck at this description, but he forced himself not to react as Bull kept talking. “We could lose Seheron and see a giant Tevinter army come marching back down here.”

“The Ben-Hassrath agree,” Gatt said. “That’s why we’re here.” He folded his arms again and looked at Fenris. “Our dreadnought is safely out of view, and out of range of any Venatori mages on shore. We’ll need to eliminate the Venatori, then signal the dreadnought so it can come in and take out the smuggler ship.”

Fenris narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “You know the Inquisition has destroyed various other red lyrium operations already,” he said. “If you had passed on your information through Bull as usual, we could have dealt with this on our own. Why did the qunari want to be involved?”

“You could have destroyed one shipment, sure,” Gatt said. “But the Venatori would have seen you coming. They would schedule a new shipment for later, and our spies might not know when or where. This is risky, yes, but it’s our best chance to destroy the shipping operation permanently.” He raised his eyebrows at Fenris. “Are you reconsidering, Inquisitor? This is what an alliance with the qunari requires.”

Fenris frowned. Didn’t Gatt know he didn’t want an alliance with the qunari? “You are aware–”

Bull clapped Fenris on the shoulder. “I dunno,” he interrupted. “I’ve never liked covering a dreadnought run. Too many ways for crap to go wrong.” He frowned. “If our scouts underestimated enemy numbers, we’re dead. If we can’t lock down the Venatori mages, the ship is dead. It’s risky.”

Gatt frowned up at him. “Riskier than letting red lyrium into Minrathous?”

Fenris looked at Bull as well. “Do you want to proceed?”

Bull’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but he nodded. “Sure, boss. It’s what we’re here for.”

Gatt nodded in satisfaction. “My agents suggested two possible locations the Venatori may be camped to guard the shore.” He turned and pointed to two short hills on opposite sides of the beach below. “There, and there. We’ll need to split up and hit both at once.”

Bull looked down at Fenris. “I’ll come with you, boss. Krem can lead the Chargers to the other spot.” He looked at Gatt. “I’ll talk strategy with my boys for a minute.”

Gatt nodded and wandered off to keep an eye on the Venatori’s movements. When he was out of earshot, Fenris frowned at Bull. “You didn’t tell him that I don’t plan to ally with the qunari.”

Bull scratched his chin. “I might have left that out of my report, yeah.”

Hawke raised her eyebrows. “Oh shit. We’re tricking the qunari? The last time we tried that, someone important lost their head.” She frowned at Fenris and shifted closer to him. “No fucking way I’m letting that happen to you.”

“Hey now, it won’t come to that,” Bull said calmly. He gave Fenris a frank look. “You know the qunari don’t negotiate. It’s not our way. But we all want the same thing: to stop the red lyrium from getting to the Imperium.” He hooked his thumbs into his belt. “I’m just making sure we all get there smoothly.”

Fenris folded his arms and gave Bull an appraising look. “You lied to the Ben-Hassrath to protect the Inquisition,” he said.

“Not a lie. An omission,” Bull said patiently.

Varric chuckled ruefully. “If we get out of this one alive, I’ll have to add that to my list of tricky loopholes to use when confronted by an angry qunari.”

Hawke, meanwhile, was grinning at Bull. “You tricky silver-tongued bastard,” she said gleefully. She poked Bull playfully in the arm. “I knew you had a soft spot for all of us.”

Bull shrugged casually, and Fenris continued to study him in silence. Finally Bull raised one eyebrow. “So. We getting on with this or not?” he asked.

Fenris nodded, then gestured to the Chargers. “By all means. Debrief your men. We will wait here.”

Bull nodded. “Thanks, boss.” He walked away to join the Chargers.

Fenris pensively studied Bull and the Chargers for a moment. Once again, Bull was showing a striking disparity between his claims of qunari loyalty and his vashoth-like actions.

Dorian was also watching Bull with a small frown. “That was… unexpected,” he said.

Fenris made a little noise of acknowledgement, but Varric shrugged. “Not that unexpected, really,” he said. “He’s always given the Inquisition a bit of a leg up in those meetings he has with Nightingale. Gives her just a little more information than she gives him, that kind of thing.”

Fenris looked at him in surprise. “How do you know that?”

Varric smirked and tapped his nose. “A clever dwarf never tells his secrets.”

Fenris huffed. “I will take that to mean you occasionally have tea with our spymaster.”

He shrugged and tucked his hands in his pockets. “What can I say? She likes my stories.”

Fenris and Dorian chuckled. Then Fenris looked around curiously. Where had Hawke gone? She’d been standing here a moment ago.

He frowned. Bull was there with the Chargers, and Solas was speaking with Cole off to the side while Toby pranced around them trying to get Cole’s attention–

Then he spotted her standing with Gatt. He released a little breath, then wandered over to join them.

Gatt was explaining his reasons for adhering to the Qun. “... as a way of life, the simplicity – the fairness of it – is something I cherish. The lack of identity, though…” He shrugged. “I’ve struggled with myself.”

Hawke nodded. “Our friend Tallis said something similar. Right, Fenris?” she said as he sidled up to her. “She said it was hard following the Qun when you weren’t born into it.”

Gatt nodded. “When I first joined the Qun, I had a temper. Bull’s nickname for me comes from ‘gaatlok’, the explosive powder in qunari canons. I was so angry when I was first freed. I wanted revenge.”

Fenris nodded an acknowledgement. That was a familiar feeling.

Gatt went on. “I wanted to find my family, still enslaved in Minrathous. I thought about leaving when the Qun didn’t tell me what I wanted to hear, but I didn’t.”

“How come?” Hawke asked.

“The qunari were always ready to listen. To teach,” Gatt said. “They cared for me as much as one of their own. And if I leave, the parts of the Qun that I don’t like are never going to change.”

“The Qun will never change,” Fenris said.

Gatt gave him a quizzical frown, and Fenris folded his arms. “The Qun is a moral system premised on the idea of a natural order that can’t be flouted. That idea is rooted throughout your entire society. You think such a thing can change?”

Gatt frowned, but he seemed more curious than angry. “What do you know about it?” he asked. “Hissrad said you were a slave, and you were on Seheron too. What happened to you?”

Fenris unfolded his arms. He was surprised Bull hadn’t told him. “I was almost killed defending my master,” he said. “I was taken in by the fog warriors. I fought by their side for a time.”

Gatt’s eyebrows shot up. “The fog warriors? Vashedan. That’s… they’re… a force to be reckoned with,” he said slowly.

Fenris nodded, not keen to get into the details.

Gatt eyed him cautiously, then lifted his chin. “Well, you’re not one of us. You don’t understand. You only know the parts you’ve heard from sneaking around and listening in.”

Fenris eyed him stonily. If Gatt wanted to assume Fenris only knew pieces of the Qun from spying with the fog warriors, that was his assumption. “And you only know the parts that are relevant to your position as a spy,” he replied. “No qunari is privy to every element of the Qun. ‘A tool knows only its purpose’, they say. Isn’t that so?”

Gatt narrowed his eyes. “You’d really look down on us for wanting something better than slavery?”

“I would never look down on a slave for wanting more than the hand life has dealt them,” he said. “But the Qun is not better, not truly. It is slavery of a different type.” He shrugged. “Mindless obedience is never justified, no matter the philosophy behind it.”

“Tell that to your soldiers,” Gatt said sagely. “I guarantee that every one of them has mindlessly followed an order during their time with your Inquisition.”

Fenris frowned but didn’t reply. Unfortunately, Gatt was probably not wrong. Despite the countless battles Fenris had been a part of, he had never been a soldier. He couldn’t fathom what that kind of servitude by choice was like.

Hawke coughed delicately. “So, Gatt. You and Bull seem very friendly. You’ve known each other for a long time, I take it?”

“He led the group that freed me,” Gatt said, to Fenris’s surprise. “I was a magister’s slave, and when the magister went to Seheron, he brought me along. For company.”

Hawke winced at his implication. “Oh. Fuck.” She shot Fenris an uncomfortable look, and Fenris shrugged grimly. Danarius had not been unique in his enjoyment of that particular form of abuse.

Gatt nodded neutrally. “Iron Bull and his men attacked my master’s ship and killed him, as well as the soldiers. Bull set me free.”

“Wow,” Hawke said softly. She looked at Fenris. “He never talks about this stuff, hey? It’s always ‘this type of ale, that redhead in the kitchen, that big grim battle in Seheron’. He didn’t even tell us that he saved Krem’s life. Kremmy told us that himself.”

Gatt gave her a tiny smile. “That’s how he is, isn’t he?” He huffed. “Sure, Bull. Share the secret Ben-Hassarath reports, but keep that bit where you saved the elf boy to yourself.”

Fenris frowned. “You speak as though Bull hasn’t been passing on information about the Inquisition as well. That is how we’re all here, after all.”

“I’m not saying he hasn’t,” Gatt said. “But the Ben-Hassrath aren’t pleased with how forthcoming Bull has been with your lot.” He shrugged. “But he’s one of their best agents. They trust him enough to accept how he joined the Inquisition, even if they don’t like it. Besides, they hate to discard a tool that might still have some use left in it. That’s why I have a job.”

Hawke grimaced. “And it really doesn’t bother you to be seen as a tool?”

“Every qunari has a place and a purpose,” Gatt said seriously.

That doesn’t answer Hawke’s question, though, Fenris thought. But there was no point arguing when a qunari’s mind was made.

“Come,” he said to Hawke and Gatt. “We should move on.”

They gathered the others and made their way over to Bull, who was just finishing his debrief with the Chargers. “Get in close and take their enchanter down before he takes over the battlefield,” he was telling Krem and the others.

Skinner chuckled. “He’ll be dead before he knows it,” she purred.

Bull nodded and idly scratched his ear. “Just… pay attention, all right?” he said. “The Vints want this red lyrium shipment bad.”

“Yes, I know,” Krem drawled. “Thanks, Mother.”

Bull gave him a chiding look. “Qunari don’t have mothers, remember?”

Fenris gave Bull a quizzical glance. It was unusual for Bull not to respond to Krem’s sass with a clever comment of his own.

Bull was eyeing the Chargers more sternly than usual, and Fenris was reminded of Bull’s concerns about the risks involved in this mission. Krem also seemed to notice Bull’s concern; he straightened up and nodded sharply. “We’ll be fine, Chief.”

Bull nodded in return. “All right, Chargers. Horns up!”

“Horns up!” Krem and the others shouted.

Bull finally smiled. “Hit ‘em hard and hit ‘em fast,” he declared. “When this is over, drinks are on me.”

Krem grinned. “You’ve got it, Chief.” He turned to the rest of the mercenary troupe. “Chargers, double time. Let’s move!” With a quick salute to Fenris, Krem and the others jogged off toward the hill on the north side of the beach.

Gatt gave Bull a knowing look. “You gave your Chargers the easier target.”

“You think?” Bull said mildly.

Gatt raised his eyebrows even higher. “Lower and farther from the smugglers’ ship? It’s much less likely to be heavily defended.”

Bull elbowed him playfully. “Suppose we’ll do the heavy lifting, then. Just like old times.”

Gatt chuckled. He and Bull continued to joke together in the manner of old friends as they led the way toward the second area that Gatt had pointed out as a likely Venatori camp.

Solas and Dorian fell into some sort of magical discussion while Varric started telling Cole a story about their escapades back in Kirkwall, and Hawke linked her arm with Fenris’s. When they were lagging behind the others, she squeezed his arm gently.

“You know Bull didn’t mean you, right?” she said quietly.

He gave her a quizzical look, and she pulled a little face. “With that… that comment he made. About the lyrium and the slaves.”

Fenris’s stomach lurched at the reminder. “Ah. The comment about magical freaks, you mean. How could I forget?” he said dryly.

Hawke squeezed his arm again. “Yes, that. You’re not a magical freak,” she said.

He shook his head slightly. “On the contrary. I am exactly the sort of nightmarish magical freak the qunari dread the most.” He glanced at his lyrium-lined palms, the left one with its ever-present sickly green glow. “It is a wonder they are willing to treat with us. With me,” he corrected. “I would think they would sooner incapacitate me and sew my mouth shut than work together.”

“They can try. I won’t let them set foot anywhere near you,” she said belligerently.

Fenris gave her a small smile, and her expression softened into something even sadder than before. “You’re not a freak,” she insisted.

“Aren’t I, though?” he said. “I am the only person alive with these hated marks under his skin. A uniquely crafted weapon, if you will. And with the added curse of the anchor...”

Hawke pulled him to a stop. “You’re not a weapon, Fenris,” she said fiercely. “That’s what Danarius wanted you to be, but you’re more than that. You know that.”

He ran a hand over his hood and sighed. “I know,” he said softly. “But—”

“No,” she interrupted. “No buts. You’re perfect.”

He scoffed, and Hawke pinched his arm. “I mean it,” she insisted. “You’re perfect exactly the way you are, tattoos and all.” She ran her hand over his palm. “You know, sometimes I…” She trailed off and shrugged. “Ah, never mind.”

He curled his fingers over her hand. “Speak, Hawke. You don’t need to mince your words with me.”

She grimaced. “It’s going to sound so selfish.”

“Tell me,” he said quietly.

She licked her lips nervously, then looked him in the face. “I like your tattoos,” she said bluntly. “Not necessarily the tattoos themselves, although they do actually outline your muscles in a nice way and they make your skin look all lovely and tan—”

He rolled his eyes, but Hawke took his hands and pressed on regardless. “I’m not happy that you got them, and I fucking hate that you suffered, but I… if you hadn’t gotten the tattoos, we would never have met. You’d probably still be in Tevinter. I mean, I don’t blame you if you wish everything had been different, but...”

He squeezed her hands. “It’s all right,” he said quietly. “I have thought about this myself.”

Her whiskey-coloured eyes were bright and hopeful. “You have?” she asked.

He nodded. “When I was forced to stand at Danarius’s side, I never expected the worst part of my life to set the course for finding the best. But that is what happened.” He took a step closer to her. “I would remove the lyrium marks if I had the choice, but… without them, I would never have ended up in Seheron. I would never have been able to fight my way across Thedas.” He stroked her cheekbone with his thumb. “We would never have met.”

She leaned into him and curled her fists against his abdomen. “And wouldn’t that have been a tragedy?” she whispered.

He smiled faintly at her. “It would. A tragedy worthy of Varric’s writing prowess, even.”

She beamed at him, and he gently kissed her lips before stepping away. “Come. We should join the others before they destroy these Venatori without us.”

The rest of the group was about twenty paces ahead, taking cover behind an outcropping of rock as they watched a small camp of Venatori up ahead. The Venatori seemed to be keeping a lookout over the beach, exactly as Gatt had predicted.

Bull turned to Fenris as he and Hawke joined them. “There are only seven of them,” he said quietly to Fenris. “Probably best if we go in quietly, huh?”

Fenris nodded. “Stealth would be best. We don’t want them to alert the others. Varric, Cole and I will lead the attack. You and Gatt remain nearby in case we need your help.” He gestured for Cole to approach. “Stay hidden. Do not let them see you coming.”

Cole nodded. “They won’t know until it’s done. It hurts less that way.” Then he turned to Gatt. “Heart hammering, brush of breath at the base of my neck. He licks his thumb before turning the page.” He gave Gatt a vacant little smile. “He never finished. You don't have a demon inside you. You don't have to wonder anymore.”

Gatt recoiled from him, and Bull clicked his tongue. “Cole, knock it off. People who follow the Qun get nervous around demons, remember?”

Gatt glared at Bull. “How can you work with a demon?” he demanded.

Bull patted Cole’s shoulder. “He’s all right.” He jerked his head at Fenris. “Come on, boss, are we ready?”

“Soon,” Fenris said. He looked at Dorian, Hawke and Solas. “Magical attacks will draw too much attention. Remain here and stick to barriers for now. I will signal if we need you.”

They nodded, and Fenris and the others fanned out around the camp. Soon, they were in position: Varric was poised near an elevated ridge of rock with Bianca in hand, and Fenris, Bull, Gatt, Cole and Toby were arranged around the camp. A moment later, a soldier at the periphery of the camp stiffened, then slumped lifelessly to the ground without a sound.

Cole, Fenris thought. A moment later, another man at the edge of the camp dropped dead with a crossbow bolt in his throat, perfectly aimed to hit right between his gorget and his chestplate.

Five men were left, including the group’s mage. Fenris crept closer to the camp until he was poised behind the mage. He carefully activated his lyrium marks, then stood up and phased his fists through the mage’s throat.

The mage jolted in shock, but couldn’t utter a sound: Fenris was squeezing his windpipe from within so he could neither breathe nor scream. Less than a dozen heartbeats later, the man was limp and dead, and Fenris silently lowered him to the ground before removing his incorporeal hand from the inside of the mage’s throat.

“Attack!” someone yelled. “Show yourselves!”

Fenris looked up. One of the three remaining Venatori was looking right at him.

The Venatori’s eyes widened. “The Inquis–” He broke off and shuddered. A second later, a curtain of blood began pouring down the front of his neck.

He fell bonelessly to the ground, and Cole suddenly appeared just behind him. One of the remaining Venatori stumbled back in shock, but before he could utter a word, three bolts slammed into his chest.

There was only one remaining Venatori. He tried to run, but Fenris phased in front of him and slid his glowing fist through the man’s ribcage.

The man’s eyes widened in terror, then went blank as Fenris crushed his heart. Fenris dropped the dead body and looked up to find Cole standing in front of him.

He blinked. “They’re second nature now, but not your nature. Killing to survive, killing the killers, but it’s not who you are. They’re not you.”

Fenris sighed heavily. Of course Cole had been listening in to his and Hawke’s conversation about his tattoos. “I know that,” he grunted. “But I am stuck with them, so I make the best of it.”

Cole nodded. Then Varric, Bull and Gatt joined them, and Bull patted Cole on the shoulder again. “See?” he said to Gatt. “He’s a squirrely one, but he plays nice.”

Gatt eyed Cole mistrustfully, then stepped close to the edge of the cliff and pointed. “There’s the smuggler ship. They’re getting ready to cast off. I’m going to signal the dreadnought.” He pulled an alchemical flare from his belt, then set it off.

Hawke, Dorian, Solas and Toby jogged over to join them, and Bull pointed across the beach to the rise where the Chargers were positioned. “Chargers already sent their signal up. See ‘em down there?”

Gatt shot him a smirk. “I knew you gave them the easier job.”

Bull smiled and shrugged. Then, through the fog that wreathed the roiling waters of the Waking Sea, an enormous qunari dreadnought appeared.

“There’s the dreadnought,” Bull announced. He tucked his thumbs into his belt. “Ah, that brings back memories.”

Hawke looked at Fenris and Varric with wide eyes. “So wait. That’s what Isabela was fleeing from with that stupid Tome of Koslun?”

Fenris shook his head ruefully, and Varric chuckled. “Of course it was. Go big or go home, right?”

“She’s lucky that storm hit and destroyed the dreadnought,” Bull said. “They would have sunk her ship for sure.”

Hawke playfully elbowed his hip. “Did you use that for pillow talk with her? I bet that went over real well.”

Bull smirked. Then they all looked up as the dreadnought sent a heavy load of projectiles at the smuggler ship.

A huge bloom of fire engulfed the deck of the smugglers’ ship, and Bull chuckled. “Nice one.”

“Oh shit,” Varric said suddenly.

Fenris looked up, then straightened in alarm: a force of more than a dozen Venatori were marching across the beach toward the low rise where the Chargers were positioned.

“Fuck,” Hawke cursed. “They have four mages with them. Dalish can’t hold them off on her own.”

“Crap,” Bull breathed.

Fenris looked up at him. His one remaining eye was wide with undisguised worry.

“Your men need to hold that position, Bull,” Gatt said firmly.

Bull shot him a sharp look. “They do that, they’re dead.”

“We can help them!” Hawke said. She patted Bull’s arm urgently. “Come on, if we hurry–”

“We are out of range,” Solas told her. “By the time we get close enough, it will be too late.”

“Don’t do this, Hissrad,” Gatt said loudly.

Fenris looked at them. Bull was running his thumb over his warhorn.

Gatt glared at him. “If you call a retreat, the Venatori will retake the smuggler ship and the dreadnought is dead,” he said. “You’d be throwing away an alliance between the Inquisition and the qunari. You’d be declaring yourself Tal-Vashoth! With all you’ve given the Inquisition, half the Ben-Hassrath think you’ve betrayed us already!”

“They’re my men,” Bull snapped.

“I know,” Gatt said. “But you need to do what’s right. For this alliance, and for the Qun.”

The Venatori on the beach were swiftly coming within range of the Chargers. Bull’s knuckles were white around his warhorn.

“Bull,” Fenris said.

Bull looked at him, and Fenris raised his eyebrows. “You know what to do,” he said.

“Don’t!” Gatt snapped.

Fenris gave him a sharp look. “The Chargers don’t belong to the Qun. They’re Bull’s men. It is his choice.” He looked at Bull once more. “You know what to do.”

Bull took a long, deep breath. He brought the warhorn to his lips and blew.

The retreat signal echoed through the fog and rain. A moment later, Hawke clapped her hands. “They’re falling back!” She crouched down and ruffled Toby’s neck. “They’re falling back, yes they are,” she crooned to the mabari. “You can go lick Skinner’s face and make her smile for the second time in her life!”

Gatt, meanwhile, was staring at Bull as though he’d never seen him before. “All these years, Hissrad,” he said in disbelief. “All these years, and you throw away all that you are. For what? For them?” He gestured angrily at Fenris.

Bull bowed his head and didn’t reply, but before anyone else could speak, Cole appeared at Bull’s side. “Raw and hot, trying to open it, but just darkness. How bad, how bad? No, done now, no sense worrying.” He blinked up at Bull. “The man they hurt coughs, shaking, but sits up. Eyes wide. No, not a man: a woman, clothes torn. ‘You're safe now. I'm Iron Bull. What do you want me to call you?’"

“Yeah,” Bull said quietly. “Thanks, Cole.”

Gatt glared at Cole, then looked at Fenris. “I think it goes without saying that there will be no alliance between our peoples.”

Fenris nodded. “Understood.”

Gatt gave Bull one last resentful glance, then strode away. Varric rubbed his hands together. “So. I guess the rest of us should take out as many of those Venatori as we can, huh?”

“We should,” Hawke said with relish. She wiggled her eyebrows at Fenris. “Can we?”

“Yes,” Fenris said. He gave her a warning look. “Prioritize your own defense. We will join you shortly.”

She batted her eyelashes at him. “You know I love it when you’re bossy.”

He gave her a chiding look. She cackled and punched Varric’s shoulder, then hooked her hand through Solas’s elbow. “Come on, boys, kill count competition! Varric, I’m going to beat you this time, I swear…”

Fenris smirked as she dragged Solas away with Varric at her side. Then Dorian sidled up beside him and Bull. “Well, this has all been a waste of time,” he complained. “If I’d known there would be so little for me to do, I would have stayed nice and dry at home.”

Bull chuckled and pulled Dorian against his side. “Ah, come on. You couldn’t stay away, big guy.”

Dorian wrinkled his nose and tried – very ineffectively – to push Bull away. “Vishante kaffas. Don’t you ever bathe?”

“You like it,” Bull said smugly.

Cole appeared beside him and opened his mouth, but Dorian pointed at him. “Not a single word,” he snapped. He wrested himself out of Bull’s grip, then took Cole by the arm and frog-marched him away in the direction that Hawke and the others had gone.

Fenris bit back a smirk, then glanced up at Bull. Bull’s smile was fading as he watched the dreadnought. The Venatori mages on the beach were gearing up to attack the qunari ship, and Fenris could see the growing mass of magic at their hands as they prepared their spells.

Bull sighed. “No way they’ll get out of range. Won’t be long now.”

Fenris nodded an acknowledgement. In the space of a few minutes, the dreadnought would explode. “We will destroy the Venatori, at least,” he said. “And that shipment of red lyrium will sink.”

Bull shot him a sideways glance. “You aren’t bothered about losing the lead on where the smugglers are getting their product?”

Fenris gave him a quizzical look, then remembered that Bull hadn’t seen been to the thaig in the Hinterlands with them. “We discovered the root source of the red lyrium. The illicit trade should be curtailed. Catching the smugglers will be a job for Leliana and Josephine’s contacts now.”

Bull wilted slightly. “Crap. All of this really was for nothing, then.”

Fenris turned to face him. “You didn’t know what we had discovered. If Cremisius and the others had died, that would have been for nothing.”

Bull gave him a tiny smile. “Fond of my boys, are you?”

Fenris soberly returned his gaze. “You have guarded Hawke and Varric well during your time with the Inquisition,” he said seriously. “You should protect your own family as well.”

Bull eyed him silently for a moment, then looked at the dreadnought once more. The enormous ship was wreathed in flames, and more fireballs still were flying at it from the mages on the shore.

“Qunari don’t have families, you know,” he said.

“I know,” Fenris replied.

Bull glanced at him once more. They gazed at each other silently for a moment, and Bull’s lips finally lifted in a smile.

A moment later, the dreadnought exploded. But a volley of magical attacks and crossbow bolts were raining on the Venatori from the cover of the trees. A moment later, a cry of “Horns up!” rose from the treeline, and Krem and the Chargers burst out of the forest and bolted across the beach toward the bewildered Venatori.

Bull clapped Fenris on the shoulder, sending him stumbling forward a step. “Come on, boss,” he said. “Let’s go give my boys a hand.”

**************************

Later that night at the Blades of Hessarians’ compound, a victory party was in full swing.

Miraculously, the rain had slowed down a faint mist rather than the usual downpour, so Krem and the rest of the Chargers had built a big bonfire. Bull had managed to procure a barrel of Chasind sack mead, which the Chargers had promptly tapped, and everyone was enjoying themselves immensely in the wake of the Venatori defeat.

Bull and the Chargers were howling some sort of tavern song, and Hawke was laughing and trying to sing along while Varric played cards with Solas and Dorian. Fenris, meanwhile, was in one of the cabins finishing up his reports to Skyhold, as well as a letter to Isabela warning her to keep an eye out for red lyrium smugglers on the Eastern Seas.

He sighed and flexed his cramped fingers, then sat back in his chair. “I know you’re there,” he said to the empty cabin. “Stop lurking.”

Cole appeared in a cross-legged position on the table. “You’re very tired. You’ll feel better if you eat,” he said. “I’ll bring you something.”

“I can fetch something myself,” Fenris said. He gestured impatiently at Cole. “Get off the table. You must remember to sit in chairs.”

Cole clambered carefully off of the table, and Fenris eyed him for a moment before speaking. “I want you to stop listening in to my private conversations with Hawke,” he said.

“I don’t try to listen,” Cole explained. “The listening happens. Feelings flying free like birds: hope and healing, but just a little hurt to hook me close.”

Fenris ran a frustrated hand through his hair. Cole never seemed to listen when people told him to stop picking apart their thoughts. If Fenris wanted Cole to stop spying on him and Hawke, he’d have to find a way to say it so Cole would understand.

He rubbed his mouth for a moment, then looked at Cole once more. “When Hawke and I are talking alone, she… she heals my hurts,” he said slowly. “She helps me more than you can. We don’t need your help.”

Cole blinked. “Yes, Hawke helps,” he said. “Love lifting the pain, making it lighter and easier. But the fear is always there.”

Fenris frowned. “Fear?”

“You’re afraid she’ll die,” Cole said softly. “She’s afraid for you, too. She meant what she said: she would die for you. And so would you.” He folded his legs comfortably on the chair. “It’s all right. You don’t need to die. I can keep you safe.”

Fenris stared at Cole for a moment. Then he swallowed hard and rose from his chair. “Stop listening to our private conversations,” he said brusquely, and he left the cabin.

He stepped out into the mist and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. A moment later, Solas sidled up to him.

“There is an elven artifact in a cave north of the river,” he said to Fenris. “I would like to inspect it.”

Fenris nodded distractedly. “Do you, er, require an escort?”

“No, thank you,” Solas said. “I am fine on my own. I will set wards.”

Fenris raised his eyebrows. “You’re going to stay overnight?”

Solas nodded. “The Veil in the area will be weak before I activate the artifact. I will slip through easily in my dreams.”

Of course, Fenris thought. He shrugged indifferently. “All right. We’ll depart for Skyhold when you return in the morning.”

Solas nodded his thanks. Then he folded his hands behind his back. “It seems the Iron Bull is our true ally now.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “I suppose so, yes.”

Solas tilted his head. “You gave him the choice whether to call the retreat or not.”

Fenris frowned slightly. “Yes,” he said slowly.

“And if he had chosen to sacrifice his men? What then?” Solas asked.

Fenris narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t sure where Solas was going with this. “He wasn’t going to sacrifice his men.”

“You were certain of that?” Solas asked.

“I have known qunari,” Fenris said irritably. “I have seen the commitment of the ones who truly follow the Qun. The Iron Bull has never been one of them, not since we have known him.”

Solas nodded slowly. “Did you ever consider joining the Qun?”

Fenris shot him a sharp look, but Solas’s expression was benign and curious. Fenris heaved a heavy sigh. “I considered it,” he admitted. “And I understand why many slaves are won over by it. The promise of equality is a temptation that many can’t resist. But it is a false promise,” he said firmly. “The Qun is a doctrine. A school of thought in every sense of the word. They are taught what to think, not how to think.”

“Yes,” Solas said emphatically. “I agree completely.”

Fenris gave him an odd look. He wasn’t sure why Solas seemed so pleased by his answer.

He shrugged and folded his arms. “My thoughts have been tampered with enough. I won’t have them policed as well.”

Solas’s smile widened. Then he took a step back. “In any case, I should be off. Thank you for the talk, Fenris.”

Fenris nodded in farewell and watched curiously as Solas pulled up his hood and left the compound. Then, at long last, he trudged over to the smaller fire where Hawke was sitting with Varric and Dorian.

“Our wise and unstylish leader joins us at last,” Dorian announced as Fenris sat between Hawke and Varric. “We saved this for you.” He handed Fenris a tin camping plate with a generous piece of roasted ram meat.

Fenris gratefully took the plate as he sat beside Hawke. “Thank you,” he said. “Is there any wine?”

Dorian chuckled and handed him an open bottle of red wine. “Do be careful, Fenris. Your Tevinter is showing.”

Fenris grunted and washed down a big bite of ram. Then Hawke draped her arms around his neck. “Remember that first time we met the Arishok and you just sprang it on us that you could speak Qunlat?” she asked.

Her speech was lazy with booze. Fenris smirked at her. “I do remember,” he said. “You offered to strip me with your teeth immediately after.”

Dorian snorted, and Hawke gasped. “I did not! I waited until we left the compound!”

“You didn’t,” Fenris drawled.

“You really didn’t,” Varric added.

Hawke blinked at them. “Oh, no, I didn’t, did I? Oh dear.” She laughed and playfully fanned herself. “Well, what can I say? I can’t resist a man who’s got a talent for tongues.”

Varric groaned and pointedly turned away to face Dorian instead. Fenris chuckled and shook his head. “You are incorrigible,” he said quietly.

“Aw, thank you,” she simpered. Then she shuffled even closer to him. “So? Was it effective?”

He took another small bite of ram. “Was what effective?” he asked.

“My oh-so-clever line about wanting to strip you with my teeth,” she said. “Did it make you fall in love with me?”

Fenris swallowed his meat and gazed fondly at her cheeky smile. By the time that first visit to the Arishok had taken place, he and Hawke had known each other for three years or so, and his love for her had been swelling silently in his guarded heart for more than two of them.

“I was already in love with you,” he told her. “You should be asking how that terrible line did not put me off.” He took another bite of roasted meat.

Hawke didn’t reply, and Fenris glanced at her. She was beaming at him, and even with the burnished glow of the fire, he could see that her cheeks were turning pink.

He raised one eyebrow. “Why are you blushing?”

She laughed and patted her pinkened cheeks. “I don’t mean to! It’s just nice to hear.” She gave him a coy look. “I’m a sucker for your smooth talk.”

“Then I shall endeavour to continue such talk,” he replied.

She giggled, then kissed his cheek. “I was in love with you too by then,” she whispered. “Completely head over heels.”

“I know you were,” he said softly.

She grinned at him, and he smiled back at her. Then, for the umpteenth time that night, the Chargers raucously burst into song.

No one can beat the Chargers, 'cause we'll hit you where it hurts Unless you know a tavern with loose cards and looser skirts! For every bloody battlefield, we'll gladly raise a cup No matter what tomorrow holds, our horns be pointing up!

The Chargers finished their song, then burst into cheering and stamping their feet, and Hawke laughed and cheered along with them. On Varric’s other side, Dorian tutted. “Such uncouth behaviour,” he sniffed.

“Yes, it is,” Fenris said. “You should go tell Bull how uncouth he is.”

Dorian cut him a suspicious look, and Fenris shrugged and sipped from the bottle of wine. Then Dorian rose from the bench. “You’re right,” he said. “I’ll tell him exactly that.” He strode away.

Fenris, Hawke and Varric watched as Dorian stopped beside Bull and planted his hands on his hips. A second later, Bull pulled Dorian down onto his lap and kissed him, and the Chargers started hollering and stamping and cheering once more.

Hawke burst into laughter and hugged Fenris around the neck once more. “You’re such a fucking romantic,” she accused.

Fenris smirked and shrugged unconcernedly. “Romance is not only for dithering ladies in frilly dresses.”

Varric rolled his eyes. “You and the Seeker need to spend less time together.”

Hawke laughed brightly, and Fenris chuckled and took another bite of his dinner. The fire flickered and sparked in the damp night air, and Fenris ate his food and listened to Hawke and Varric’s banter and watched as Bull mercilessly teased Dorian and the Chargers.

A flicker of movement at the periphery of Fenris’s vision caught his attention. He lifted his head, but there was no one there.

Cole, he thought irritably. He had better not be making anyone forget anything. But he decided to let it go for tonight.

He settled back and turned his attention to Hawke and Varric. For tonight, Fenris would just enjoy some time with his family.

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