#and now they are both trapped and free at the same time... carver just happens to thrive but bethany feels she traded one cage for another | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tangerinesgirl · 1 month

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Fowl Play

Chapter 1

Fem!Reader x Mark Hoffman x Eric Newlon

Word count: 1.1k

Rating: explicit, 18+, no minors

Warnings: DEAD DOVE, dark fic, non con, pet names, reader in saw trap, violence, no smut (yet), stockholm syndrome

Summary: Eric is back and has enlisted the help of Mark to resume where he left off. Killing people involved in the Black Friday massacre with rigged jigsaw traps.

Notes: Set after the events of Saw 3D and Thanksgiving, no one knows John Carver's identity. I also came up with my original Saw trap for this one which was fun. Currently writing chapter two where things get steamier. I hope you enjoy!

You jump awake at the sounds of gears churning, unsure what is going on or how exactly you ended up here. You instantly recognise the abandoned Rightmart, the place where all those people were killed a few years ago on Black Friday. The place tried to reopen a few times but it was doomed since that night, people would never forget... you would never forget. You look down and see that you’re sitting on something resembling a pommel horse, with two massive steel black boots on both feet, forcing you into place, but also forcing your weight down after each churn of the cogs. Your hands are also tied behind your back with police handcuffs.

Suddenly you remember all the newspaper articles recently saying that John Carver was back, despite dying in a fire a year ago, the guy behind the Thanksgiving killings on a revenge mission. You just so happened to be in the store on that Black Friday night, but you hid in the clothing section, waiting for it to pass over, you wouldn’t hurt a fly, never mind kill anyone! Why you?

The cogs start turning faster, and you can feel some of your bones starting to shift and you start to scream and panic. Looking down, you notice the machinery could be in arms reach. You contort yourself to try and wedge the handcuffs in the middle of a cog and *SNAP* they break in half.

You immediately bring your hands up to the seat to try and shift your weight onto them, to give your hips a break. You try to tip the horse over with your weight, but it’s drilled to the floor. You put on a brave face and decide try and break the machinery somehow. You bend back down and you swear you can hear the cogs moving faster again. You panic and decide to just lodge your left hand in the machinery and hope for the best. The thick steel part of the handcuff on your wrist jams a cog for long enough for you to reach with your other hand to unscrew it.

You groan as the blood rushes to your head as you remove the wheel, sitting back up. You let out a deep sigh, thinking you’ve escaped and stopped the machine, but to your surprise, it keeps going. You panic again and start to smash at the metal boots with all your strength to free yourself. The sweat and the blood from your hand made freeing your foot from the first boot surprisingly easy as it just slips out. As you dented the metal of the boot, the cog also broke, so you pick up the boot, swing yourself over, and start smashing the other boot with it.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally break loose and collapse to the floor, letting out a guttural scream as you realise you’ve narrowly avoided death. You realise you don’t have time to sit and cry about it, and need to move to safety. As you stand, your hips struggle to realign themselves, are they broken? Tough shit. Your wrist is still bleeding out but you can worry about that later, you’re more concerned how you’re going to walk out of here.

You wobble quickly through the abandoned store to the main exit. Locked. Of course it wouldn’t be that simple. You jump as you hear a fire exit opening from behind you, and dash to the same clothes aisle you hid that Black Friday night.

“Clever girl”.

Your eyes widen as you realise you know the voice. The town Sheriff. You’ve always had a little crush on him, even if he did try to literally crush you in return just now. Under normal circumstances, if he had called you a clever girl, you would have been turned on. You can hear his footsteps pacing the empty store. He picks up something off the ground, every urge of your body is telling you to turn around and see what it is, but you don’t. You sit solid in fear, covering your mouth to try and regulate your breathing. You can hear him chuckle slightly, how can he laugh seeing you like this? The sick bastard.

“Shame you weren’t clever enough to cover your tracks”.

You look down and see the blood from your wrist leading directly to your hiding spot. You grab a jumper from a hanger and quickly bandage your hand, and quietly get up to find another exit. Luckily it’s pretty dark, and you have no shoes on, so you can cover the noise from your walking pretty well. You stick closely to the wall, trying to feel for another exit, what little light you had disappearing the further back into the shop you went. You feel a door handle, so you slowly and quietly open it. You try to peer inside when suddenly you feel a rush of pain to your face, sending you a few steps backwards, straight into Sheriff Newlon, wielding an axe. He puts his arms around your waist, using the axe to lift you up off the floor as you kick and scream trying to free yourself.

“Aw did you really think I would go this alone after the last time? Cute.”

As the Sheriff carries you back the way you came, you can see the face of his accomplice as the security lights outside occasionally flicker to his face. It’s a new detective on the police force, you’ve seen him around before. Then it dawns on you. It’s the guy who was proven to be the jigsaw killer all those years ago. Mark Hoffman. How did no one see this? Maybe they did, and the whole police force is in on this operation. A grim thought. But you’re speculating here.

The Sheriff slams you back on the floor in the room you just escaped from. You try to get up but he threatens you with the axe, hovering very close to your neck.

“Don’t even think about it princess”.

Damn it, why does he use pet names for you like this? Your body betrays you as his voice makes you shiver. The Stockholm Syndrome isn’t helping the fact that you actually like this guy in real life.

“You know it’s a shame your contraption didn’t break her hips, Mark”, the Sheriff's gaze still fixed on you.

The Detective speaks up, “You’re right, we will just have to break them another way”.

He bends down to look into your eyes, wiping away your tears.

“You look very pretty when you cry”.

You spit on his face, making him flinch slightly. He looks back at you and smiles.

“I think we can have a little fun with this one”, he says, addressing the Sheriff.

#fanfic #reader #mark hoffman #saw #thanksgiving #multifandom #eric newlon #sheriff newlon #sheriff newlon x reader #mark hoffman x reader #crossover

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kaltacore · 2 months

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Would you pls tell us your thoughts and opinions on Carver? I too love him, he's so prickly and fighting so hard all the time to keep his head above the water and keep his remainibng sibling alive and free, and a lot of DA fans are so down on him because "oh he's grumpy though:(".

oh i'm always happy to talk about carver!

actually, i love that he's grumpy! and i also firmly believe that bethany is grumpy as well but it is overlooked in the same way carver's reasons to be grumpy are, but it's a topic for another day. anyway!

his whole deal - being a younger sibling who tires to fulfill the role of cool-headed one, who at the same time is still obviously young and too hot-tempered - hits a little too close to home sometimes, to be honest, and this is what i really really like about him. he is a character who genuinely tries his best, but fails because of how unexperienced and flawed he is (and how he doesn't have time or proper conditions to work on it in act 1, considering the situation his family is trapped in). he tries to join the guard, but gets turned down, he follows hawke everywhere to help them, he's also the one who cares about going on the expidition the most, because he realises that it's their best chance to make sure their family survives - and if he doesn't join it as well, he becomes a templar first of all out of necessity, because at this point he ran out of options and there's no guarantee his sibling will come back with enough money to restore their nobility status.

he is often rude and insensitive around hawke and their friends and his words and petty passive aggressive insults sound so childish, because, well, he was what, eighteen when the blight happened and he witnessed the ostagar massacre and also lost his father and sister? he hasn't still, you know, fully grown up, he's still so young and has so much bottled-up anger and trauma already, because his family has been living under constant stress his whole life and it has never got better. he may come across as pro-templar considering his approval and comments, but when you get to see the whole picture, aka his development through all acts, you can understand how false that statement is - he's genuinely terrified of losing hawke as well, and pro-mage hawke constantly puts themself in harm's way and sticks their neck out for people they barely know, and if it ends badly, nobody will be able to do anything about it, and carver believes he's the only one who realizes how fucked up their situation is. on top of that, he's always been struggling with feeling overshadowed, and now people who he hangs out with the most are his sibling's friends, not his own, and at least some of them just love to make fun of him and his issues. they tolerate him for being hawke's sibling. they don't care for him for any other reason.

none of it makes his actions and words righteous, though! it makes them understadable and his arc meaningful and satisfying, especially the warden route. i did the templar route once and don't remember the details well, but the point still stands - carver, no matter who he serves, always chooses his family first. and it has weight, it has meaning! because the other very important aspect of carver's character is him searching for his purpose, a desire to become his own person. both wardens and templars offer it to him, and in the end he will abandon his duties - and straight up betray his order in templar's case, and it's not, like, a futile sacrifice. by the end of act 3, it's been six years of his service. and his loyalty to hawke prevails even though they've been apart almost all this time and, as a result, became more distant in one way or another - but his sibling's safety continues to be his priority, even if he doesn't approve of their choices or isn't as close to them as he used to be. they're his only family left, and throughout the course of the plot he learns that it is important not only to care, but also to show he cares before it's too late.

and it's like, the general overall plot arc thing. i also love his dlc batner in act 2/act 3 because you can see how less antagonistic and more chill his dialogue becomes! his pettiness never fades away, for sure, but it's a part of his character i've grown fond of at this point and it's also very heartwarming to see other characters admit it as well. like, yeah, he still gets easily annoyed and still can start an argument, but he's learnt to keep it down when needed and grown to be more understanding. he's also so embarrassed about his past behaviours sometimes, it's genuinely endearing

i've talked about it once, but a lot of da2 character arcs either result in a little and still painful growth or in a straight up decline. and i still love it because, you know, a beauty of a tragedy. but this is also a reason why warden carver is so dear to me. he starts as a very distressed character, stuck in an uncomfortable environment, having no idea what to do with himself anymore, but joining the wardens really makes him shine. he's doing something good now, and he's good at it as well. the realisation of his inevitable warden fate makes him appretiate life and people in it more. among the wardens he's carver hawke, not simply hawke's brother, and he's respected for it. he becomes calmer and wiser, his grudges lose importance and his love for his family isn't tainted by it anymore. his opinion of hawke and relationship with them becomes more mature, and it culminates in his bittersweet speech and farewell before the final battle. it's genuinely a positive, hopeful growth, and while there's a little to no chances we'll see him again in another game, i hope when people in weisshaupt hear hawke family name mentioned, their first thought is about warden hawke, not champion of kirkwall

#oh. i really got carried away didn't i #thank you for your ask anon! i really really love to talk about my favourite characters. as you can see #i really. do have thoughts about him. i also probably forgot to mention a lot of them. anyway i guess it's gonna be enough for one time #also isn't it kinda hilarious that warden hawke is the only character who gets to leave kirkwall practically for good #and he's the one who's closest to being at peace with himself. really makes you think what kirkwall does to a mf lol #dragon age #carver hawke #ask tag

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felassan · 3 years

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Some DA trivia and dev commentary from Twitter

There’s a lot of different tweets, so I’m just pasting and linking to the source rather than screencapping them all or making several different posts or something. Post under cut for length.

User: Was dragon age 2 your favourite in the franchise?

David Gaider: DA2 was the project where my writing team was firing on all cylinders, and they wrote like the wind- because they had to! Second draft? Pfft. Plot reviews? Pfft. I was so proud of what we all accomplished in such a brief time. I didn't think it was possible. [source] DA2 is, however, also where the goal posts kept moving. Things kept getting cut, even while we worked. I had to write that dialogue where Orsino turned even if you sided with him, because his boss battle had been cut and there was no time to fix the plot. A real WTF moment. >:( [source]

Mike Rousseau: I remember bugging that! And then being told it wasn't a bug, and being so confused. Doing QA for DA2 was an experience. Trial by fire. [source]

DG: So I think it's safe to say DA2 is my favorite entry in the DA franchise and also the sort of thing I never want to live through ever again. Mixed feelings galore. [source]

User: (I personally blame whoever it was for ruining most romance arcs in other games for me; they don't live up to Fenris's romance storyline)

DG: I wrote Fenris, so uh - me, I guess? Or maybe his cinematic designer, who put in the puppy dog eyes. [source]

User: If DA2 had just been an expansion, do you think it would have been better received? There was a lot of great stuff in there, and I think my initial dislike of it was because of the zone reuse. If it hadn't needed to be a full game, would that issue not have arisen?

DG: Hard to say. It was either going to be an over-scoped expansion or an under-scoped sequel. If it had stayed an expansion, it might never have received the resources/push it DID get. [source]

User: I'd love to visit the universe where you had an extra year or so to work on it. You did a very good job as it stands, but it definitely had rough edges. Not just the writing team either. The whole game had hit and miss moments, that just a little more dev time could have fixed.

DG: On one hand, DA2 existed to fill a hole in the release schedule. More time was never in the cards. DA2 was originally planned as an expansion! On the other, if we had more time, would we have started doing that thing where we second guess/iterate ourselves into mediocrity? [shrug emoji] [source]

Jennifer Hepler: This is what I love about DA2. Personally, I greatly prefer something that's rough and raw and sincere to something that's had all the soul polished out of it. Extra time would have helped for art and levels, but it would have lost something too. [source]

DG: Right? I think we could have used some time for peer reviews (and fewer cuts), but I think the rawness of the writing lent a certain spark that we usually polished out. [source]

JH: Definitely. I think the structure (more character-driven) and the tightness of the timeframe let each individual writer's voice really come through. Polish can be very homogenizing. [source]

DG: I should add I'm not, by any means, against iteration. Some iteration is good and necessary. The problem that BioWare often had is that we never knew when to stop. Like a goldfish, we would fill the space given to us by constantly re-iterating on things that were "good enough". [source]

Patrick Weekes: I appreciate your incredibly diplomatic use of the past tense on "had". :D [source]

User: DA2 was my gateway into the series and I’m so happy it is. I love the game the way that it is. It’s one of my favorites of all time. But I am also aware of everything that was said here. If it were remastered, do you think it would change?

DG: I'd be surprised if it was ever remastered. If it was, do you really think they'd change things? Do remasters do that? No idea. [source]

User: Both sides got undercut as I recall. Didn't that whole sequence also end with the mage leader embracing blood magic? It was very much "a plague on both your houses" moment, at least for me.

DG: Yep. Orsino was supposed to have his own version of Meredith's end battle, which only happened if you sided with the templars. That got cut, but the team still wanted to use the model we'd made for him. So... that happened. [source]

DG: I would personally say that DA2 is a fantastic game hidden under a mountain of compromises, cut corners, and tight deadlines. If you can see past all that, you'll see a fantastic game. I don't doubt, however, that it's very difficult for most to do that. [source]

PW: I love DAI with all my selfish "I worked on this" heart, but DA2's follower arcs and relationships are probably my favorite in the series. [source]

User: As I've expressed many times, I love the game, especially it's writing and characters but, for me, the most impressive aspect of it, in consideration of it's lack of time for drafts and revisions, is the 2nd act with Arishok. What amazingly complex character and fantastic duel

User: Just played it again and I have to agree. Though he is bound by the harsher tenants of the Qun, he makes valid points about free marcher society. Though it is obvious that he and Hawke will come to blows eventually, the tension builds gradually and understandably

DG: Luke did such a fantastic job with the Arishok I found myself sometimes wishing the Qunari plot had just been THE plot. [source]

User: What do you think would have changed, story wise, if you had more time for DA2?

DG: I would have taken out that thing where Meredith gets the idol. It was forced on me because she needed to be "super-powered" with red lyrium for her final battle. Being "crazy", however, robbed her side of the mage/templar argument of any legitimacy. I hated hated hated that. [source]

User: I deeply lament that there wasn't/couldn't be some sort of DA2 equivalent of Throne of Bhaal's Ascension mod.

DG: I'd have done it, if DA2 had allowed for anything but the most rudimentary of modding. ;) [source]

User: I mean, and I think I understand where you were trying, but how much legitimacy did the Templars and her as top Templar have after they're keeping the mages locked up against their will in the old slave quarters? Feel free to not reply.

DG: I think it's the kind of discussion which requires nuance, and which discussions on the Internet are not prone to. [source]

User: Was a compromise that the quest lines don’t branch? It felt like it was supposed to be that way but then you end up in the same place later regardless of what you pick. Like I hoodwinked the templars so good to help the apostates escape but in Act II they were caught anyway.

DG: I remember us having a lot more branching in the initial planning yes. Most of this got trimmed out in the first or second wave of cuts, in an effort to not cut the plots altogether. [source]

DG: "If you could Zack Snyder DA2, what would you change?" Wow. I'm willing to bet Mark or Mike (or anyone else on the team) would give very different answers than me, but it's enough to give a sober man pause, because that was THE Project of Multiple Regrets. [source] I mean, it's the most hypothetical of hypotheticals. It's never gonna happen. I wouldn't be surprised if EA considered DA2 its embarrassing red-headed stepchild. We'd also need to ignore that in many ways DA2 was as good as it was bad BECAUSE of how it was made. But that aside? [source] First, either restore the progressive changes to Kirkwall we'd planned over the passing of in-game years or reduce the time between acts to months instead of years... which, in hindsight, probably should have been done as soon as the progressive stuff was cut. [source] I'm sure you're like "get rid of repeated levels!" ...but I don't care about that. All I wanted was for Kirkwall to feel like a bigger city. Way more crowded. More alive! Fewer blood mages. [source] I'd want to restore the plot where a mage Hawke came THIS close to becoming an abomination. An entire story spent trapped in one's own head while trapped on the edge of possession. Why? Because Hawke is the only mage who apparently never struggles with this. It was a hard cut. [source]

User: I would LOVE to hear more details about this! I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a short story?

DG: I don't even remember the details of the story, sorry. There was a fight, and you caught the bad guy and then realized none of it was real and woke up idk [source]

DG: I'd want to restore all those alternate lines we cut, meaning people forget they'd met you. Or that they knew you were a mage. Or, oh god, that maybe they'd romanced you in DAO. So much carnage. [source] I'd want to restore the Act 3 plots we cut only because they were worked on too late, but which would have made the buildup to the mage/templar clash less sudden. Though I don't remember what they were, now. Some never got beyond being index cards posted on the wall. [grimace emoji] [source] As I mentioned elsewhere, I'd want to restore Orsino's end battle so he wouldn't need to turn on you even if you sided with him. And I'd want an end fight with the templars that didn't require Meredith to have red lyrium and go full Tetsuo. [source] Heck, maybe an end decision where you sided with neither the mages nor the templars. Because it certainly ended up feeling like you could brand both sides as batshit pretty legitimately, no? That was never planned, tho. No idea how to make that feel like an actual path atm. [source] Maybe an option to go "umm, Anders... what are you DOING?" 👀 [source] And, of course, a Varric romance, because Mary took that "slimy car salesman" character we'd planned and did the impossible with him. I can feel Mary glaring at me for even suggesting this, tho. [source] Lastly, the original expanded opening to the game which allowed you to spend time with Bethany and Carver BEFORE the darkspawn attacked. And, um, that's about it off the top of my head. Zack Snyder, WHAT PANDORA'S BOX HAVE YOU OPENED. [source] Shit, I remembered two more things: 1) Restore the "Varric exaggerates the heck out of the story" at the beginning of every Act, until Cassandra calls him on it. Yes, that was a thing. 2) Make DA: Exodus. Yes, I am still bitter. [source] God damn it, I meant "Make DA: Exalted March". The DA2 expansion, NOT Exodus since that was DA2's original name and makes no sense. Because the expansion ended with Varric dying, and that will always be on my "things left undone" list. [source]

User: Whaaaat?

DG: Well, you know that scene in Wrath of Khan where Spock goes into the dilithium chamber because he's a Vulcan? Well, imagine that but with Varric and red lyrium and because he's a dwarf. ;) [source]

John Epler: I distinctly remember referencing the bit from MGS4 where you crawl through the microwave corridor in the split screen, while cinematic battle rages on the other half. [source]

DG: It would have been glorious, John. Glorious. [source]

JE: I don't think I've ever been so certain what a shot should look like as I did Hawke coming in and finding Varric in the broken throne, just like when he was telling Cassandra his story. [source]

DG: It would have come full circle! Auggghh, it still kills me. [source]

User: Lord, you folks are a little too good at this.

JE: The true secret behind videogame narrative is knowing how to make yourself seem a lot more clever than you actually are. [source] 'Oh, we TOTALLY planned that.' [source]

User: Ok, this thread [the DA2 regrets thread, which is the big chunks above] but Inquisition.

DG: My regrets about Inquisition are, more or less, the normal kind. Nothing so dramatic, I'm afraid. [source]

User: You can keep your Varric romance, I want a Flemeth romance goddamnit!

DG: I would allow for one flirt option, and then a recording of Kate Mulgrew laughing for three minutes straight. [source]

User: I had a hypothesis about the repetitive caves in DA2. They're repetitive because it's Varric telling the story and he didn't consider them important. They're like sets in a play. (Okay, I really suspect it was a time/money/resources thing but I like my fake explanation better.)

DG: Hang a lampshade on it, maybe? Cassandra: "But that's the exact cave you were in last time?" Varric: "Whatever. They all look the same, I'm not THAT kind of dwarf. Can we move on?" [source]

User: that makes sense, hypothetically to make Varric romanceable and keep his arc—that had to happen for the main plot—I imagine you would have to make double the content (or more)? which would've been a tall order given the time/budget constraints the game was under

DG: Right. When it comes to "romance arc" vs. "follower story arc", we generally only had time to do one or the other. Never both. Romancing Varric would have meant not getting the story of his that you did. [source]

Mary Kirby: The one exaggeration I really, REALLY wanted, that we never got to do was Varric narrating his own death scene with Hawke weeping over him, then cutting to Cassandra's pissed off glaring at him. [source]

DG: Haha! The one I wanted was Varric's plot where he takes on the baddies single-handedly, sliding across the floor like Jet Lee, action movie-style, until finally Cassandra gets irritated and he has to admit Hawke & the rest of the party showed up to help. [source]

MK: We did that one! (He didn't do any Jet Lee moves, though.) Jepler gave him letterboxing to get The Good, the Bad, & the Ugly showdown vibes while he shot a ton of mooks single-handed. [source]

DG: Wow. Shows how much I remember. [source]

JE: I found it! I remember seeing this sequence as my treat for doing a bunch of much more challenging work. It was fun to see how far I could push our limited library of animations. [link] [source]

DG: Heh awesome. I could have sworn it was cut, honestly. I think I was even in that meeting. [source]

User: no disrespect but that’s surprising and rich of Mary “Hard in Hightown” Kirby to think DA2 shouldn’t have had a Varric romance when she wrote an entire book of Varric’s self-insert character pining over his Hawke insert character… HIH is the reason we had VHawke Summer 2018

DG: I can't *really* speak for Mary, or how she feels about it now compared to back then. I only know how she felt about it back then, and I'm not sure it was as much the concept of the romance but that Varric's entire story would be bent to "romance arc" ...a very different thing. [source]

JH: I remember pushing to have the first DLC start with Hawke having an option to ask Varric, "Did you tell Cassandra about us?" and if you picked it, Varric would answer, "Of course not, baby. I told her you were sleeping with X..." and then proceed as if you had had a full romance. [source]

DG: I still wonder how that would have gone over. x) [source]

JE: Okay, one more DA2 thing. Putting together the cinematics for this scene was a blast. [link] [source]

MK: These lines are my greatest legacy. I want "Make sure the world knows I died... at Chateau Haine!" inscribed on my tombstone. [source]

JE: I was so glad no one said 'no' to the crane shot. [source]

MK: It needs that crane shot. It's the perfect icing on that cake made from solid cheese. [source]

DG: The designers were all "we need more combat" and I think we were all "I think you underestimate just HOW interesting we can make this dinner party". [source]

JE: And finally. I think @SherylChee wrote the one-liner. I think we had a collection of like, 20. [link] [source]

Sheryl Chee: Yeah! Something like that! I remember submitted a whole bunch and Frank said you only needed one. Wish I'd kept the other fifteen. [source]

JE: A random chooser where, each time through the scene, you get a different one-liner. [source]

JE: DA2 is the project I'm the proudest of. I also absolutely get that it didn't land for a lot of people. But I don't think it's inaccurate to say that, in a lot of ways, DA2 defined my career. [source] Everyone spent a year working at their maximum ability. I was a fresh cinematic designer and was given all of Varric's content, as well as the Act 1 Finale mission. It was a lot for someone who had been doing the Cinematics thing for literally 6 months. [source] There's some stuff in there I can't look at without wincing. And there's some stuff I'm genuinely proud of. Not to mention, it was my introduction to most of the writing team. Several of whom I'm still working with today! Albeit in a different capacity [source] Also, weirdly, one of my most enduring memories of Dragon Age 2 is how much Bad Company 2 we'd play at lunch. It was a LOT. [source] Every game I've worked on has a game I played attached to it. ME2 is Borderlands. DA2 is Bad Company 2. DAI is DayZ. I, hmm. There's a progression there. I don't know how I feel about it. [source]

User: Is DA4 going to be tarkov then?

JE: I've kind of churned out of Tarkov for now. Probably Hunt Showdown, at least right now. [source]

User: I think people also don't take nuance into consideration -- like I FULLY acknowledge the flaws in my favorite games and will openly criticize them, but that doesn't mean they're not my favorite games anymore??? You can like and thing and still be critical of it.

JE: A lot of my favourite shit is deeply flawed! I acknowledge it and I think it's interesting to dissect the flaws. [source]

User: I still wish Justice was an actual character in DA2 rather than a plot point.

DG: There was a moment during DAI where we *almost* put in you running into Justice with the Grey Wardens, and he's all "Kirkwall? I never went to Kirkwall" [source]

User: Does that imply that Justice was shoehorned in to DA2?

DG: Nah, it was an in-joke where we thought it'd be fun to suggest that "Justice" was simply some demon that tricked Anders in DA2. Wooo those tricky demons! We didn't do it, though. [source]

User: [about templars] except, I don't think it had very much legitimacy to begin with. keep in mind, we interact with other characters with the same argument. The one that comes to mind is Cullen, a sane templar in power. The templar's side of the argument is inherently flawed.

DG: I don't doubt that many people agree with you, and yet people can and do argue on behalf of the templars as well. My place isn't to pick a side, but to provide evidence that players can interpret for themselves [source]

User: Can you shed some light for us on how DA was able to do multiple same-sex romance options for different genders but the Mass Effect team treated them like the plague? What process existed for your team that just wasn't their for the other tentpole franchise?

DG: Different people making the decisions, almost different cultures. I don't know what it's like now, but for many years the Mass Effect team and the Dragon Age team were almost like two different studios working within the same building. [source]

User: It truly boggles the mind. Kudos for doing demonstrably better on consistent queer representation than the ME teams. Y'all never needed us to make petitions to try to get the studio's attention and ask them to do better by us. That's the fight we're once again embroiled in now.

DG: Honestly, I don't feel like tut-tutting the Mass Effect team. They did their part, and if they were a bit later to the show than the DA team they certainly did more than almost every other game out there -- and willingly. [source]

Updates begin here

User: So what was the reason for naming Dragon age 2 "Dragon age II" and not using a subtitle?

DG: As I recall, that was purely a publisher decision. I think they wanted to avoid the impression it was an expansion. [source]

User: Is there no chance of ever remaking DA2 under better circumstances? -Somehow remove the repetitiveness of gameplay by making changes and updating the tech and adding much more to the storyline. It could almost be a new very exciting game.

DG: I'd say there's zero chance of that. Let's keep our hopes up for the next DA title instead. [source]

User: I am a little confused here, help me out here please! How exactly was the cut boss battle with Orsino supposed to work out? How it would've kept him from turning against the player?

DG: It means that, if you sided with the templars, the entire boss bottle at the end would have been against Orsino and the mages. No fight against Meredith. The end decision would have been more divergent. [source]

User: I do remember that one of the reasons going around for that, was that resources were going to the transition to Frostbite. I'm still not fully sold on that having been a good choice. I felt that more time should have been given for that transition considering it was made for FPSs

DG: We didn't transition to Frostbite until DAI. Given our time frame for DA2, I don't think we *could* have transitioned to a new engine. [source]

User: Since your talking about the what could have been for DA2. Could you say what your script was for Anthem? Cause I remember reading that you wrote the plot on that game.

DG: I created a setting for Anthem and scripted out a plot - but, as I understand it, almost none of that ended up being used. So it's a bit pointless to talk about what I'd planned, as that'd be for some completely different type of game. [source]

User: [in reference to the exchange above where DG said “Being "crazy", however, robbed her side of the mage/templar argument of any legitimacy. I hated hated hated that.” re: Meredith] except, I don't think it had very much legitimacy to begin with. keep in mind, we interact with other characters with the same argument. The one that comes to mind is Cullen, a sane templar in power. The templar's side of the argument is inherently flawed.

If I missed a tweet, got the wrong source link or included a tweet twice, feel free to let me know and I’ll correct.

Edit / Update: Post update 22nd April

#dragon age #bioware #video games #fenris #the Fenaissance #long post #longpost #cassandra pentaghast #my lady paladin #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #mass effect

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autisticandroids · 3 years

Note

I appreciate you being Dean concerned and not Dean critical. I’m sure you’ve already answered this before but what do you genuinely like about him? A lot of his good traits get twisted in your meta (and in the show) which is really interesting! But like. What about him do you just think is neat?

Also, you don’t talk about Sam a lot but I’m rewatching season 8 and it really feels like both a continuation of preseason one -> season one (Sam has a normal life, Dean is gone -> Sam wants to return to his normal life but Dean coming back gets him back in the game) which also gives it finale vibes :(

Besides the fact that the stuff with Amelia is really boring, it all just feels ooc and like a step back for Sam. Not to go on a rant but Sam seemed to finally make peace with his life back in season 7.

The stuff with Amelia also has both the same and the exact opposite energy as the stuff with Lisa. During his time with Lisa, it was always like Dean had one foot out the door back to hunting. During his time when he goes back to hunting with Dean in season 8, it feels like Sam always has one foot out the door back to Amelia.

That and I just can’t bring myself to give a shit about Amelia (maybe because she’s boring and inconsistent, maybe because info about her is drop fed instead of presented mostly all at once like with Lisa in season 6, maybe because she’s just shoved in for something for Sam to be up to and it feels ooc to me idk)

I thought I’d like season 8 (and I do really like a lot of Cas’ stuff but he’s always my favorite anyway so that was basically gaurenteed) but a lot of the stuff just makes my brain feel like a white noise machine. I’m only on episode 10 so I’m sure it’ll get better for me once the Sam stuff gets resolved but for now it’s very.... eh.

Thoughts?

okay so, what i like about dean. hm. that's hard! i love dean, for all sorts of reasons, and i know i'll miss stuff, but: - he charms me, on a sort of pure, animal level. he's very charming, that's true within the show but it's true for the audience, or at least me, as well. he's funny, he's affectionate, he's sweet, and he tries so hard. and it makes me love him - he's compellingly tragic. like dean is a fucked up guy, he hurts both himself and everyone around him because of patterns of trauma an neurosis he can't break out of. no one wants to be a bad guy, no one wants to hurt the ones they love, least of all dean, but he can't stop doing both those things. like his self-made cage of ideology, emotional repression, and control is killing him, and it's killing everyone who doesn't get away from him, and that's sad! it's awful! no one is winning except dean's self-image. he will sacrifice everyone and everything he loves on the altar of never having to re-evaluate himself. or, i hope he won't. but he might! and that's sad! it's the perfect tragedy! - second hand deangirlism due to cas kinnie disease. men will be the first person who was ever nice to castiel and then me and castiel will love them forever about it. - he is my little puzzle box and i will solve him - straightmarried gf i liked that sam ran off and tried to escape The Life in s8, that makes sense to me. i think sam really fundamentally doesn't want to be a hunter and the only reason he gives up on trying to leave post s8 is that it is impressed upon him that he's completely trapped. he can never be free. dean will always drag him back, kicking and screaming. i actually feel like sam's equivalent to lisa isn't amelia, it's jess. i talked some about that here but like. both jess and lisa were kind of synecdoches for a false ideal of the american dream, each in their own way. they're both images of suburban perfection, and what draws the winchesters to them is the desire to fit into that image.

but comparing lisa and amelia..... like, dean promises sam that he will go try to make a normal life with lisa, and then he does, because that obligation is all he has left to cling to. like dean is nothing but a miserable little pile of duties and tasks, he doesn't know who he is without a chore (see: demon!dean's total directionlessness) and lisa is the last promise he made to his brother, so he fulfills that. she's an idea to him, not a real woman. the thing he's clinging to, in sam's absence, is not lisa, but the idea of a normative suburban lifestyle. but then the moment sam shows up and voids his own last wishes, dean is like okay bye i don't need to fulfill this obligation anymore. like he was never all that interested in lisa. he didn't love her and his relationship with her was built on obligations, normative images, and anxiety over her safety, which finally resolves itself in dean horrifically violating her by asking cas to wipe her memories.

whereas sam is with amelia because he like, meets her and they form a connection. they hit it off. and sam has a pattern of like. when he wants to get away from something, especially if dean isn't around, he jumps into bed with the nearest girl who smiles at him and then forms a super intense with her. his early season one-off love interests, ruby, and now amelia. (amelia is actually kind of the last time he does that, because after season eight he gives up trying to escape for real). but what he's clinging to there isn't an image that he's trying to fit into. it's the girl herself. like he likes amelia and he wants to be around her and he dives into like. spending time with her and building a relationship with her. and like amelia is a real woman and sam sees her as a real woman. like she's a fucked up mess and so is he and they connect. like she's a bitch and she clogs her drain with limes. also #MyGirlfriendsHusbandFightsForYourFreedom. like samelia is a little boring but i don't begrudge sam that. it's almost compelling because it's boring.

i'm actually not a huge season eight guy myself but my issue with it isn't samelia.

actually, and this is a complete tangent, can i bitch about season ten for a second? like. okay. seasons eight and nine are about sam learning that dean will never let him go. that he's trapped forever in the hunting life and trapped forever with his brother, that dean will do horrific things to him in order to keep them together. and slowly just... giving up. deciding to relinquish his dreams of getting out once and for all.

and then season ten rolls around and suddenly sam makes a hypocrite of himself? suddenly sam is the one who will go to any lengths to save dean, even against dean's own wishes? NOT believable. like sam should be like. sad and fucked up about it, but letting dean go his own way. if anything, cas should be the one trying to save dean against his will, that's way more cas' move. like there's definitely a certain level of cas -> dean :: dean -> sam that exists in the show, at least in terms of protective fixation. cas is somewhat more respectful of dean's boundaries and autonomy, but he's the one with a pattern of blowing up at dean for being self-destructive etc etc.

like, sam should have been way different in s10. i don't know exactly what i would do with him, maybe give him his own distinct plot? or maybe have demon dean last somewhat longer and make "demon dean tries to kill sam" a whole multi-episode arc, i think that would slap. and then the relationship fallout from that can be many more episodes.

like imo this happened because jeremy carver got his start in season three, when sam legitimately was trying to save dean against dean's wishes, but in s3 that made sense. like, one, the brothers were much closer then, dean wasn't quite as much of a prison guard for sam, but two, much more importantly, dean's deal was sam's fault. he blamed himself. he wasn't just trying to save dean from dying, he was trying to save dean from going to hell because of him. like girl, it made sense in mystery spot. but this is not the energy you should be bringing to the table with sam in s10. ooc!

#spn #asks #anonymous

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common-blackbird · 3 years

Photo

Started!

This is my Inquisitor (so overjoyed you can be a qunari), her name is the default Herah and I decided I’m going to approach this game by staying true to a character and not looking to do everything and be on everyone’s good side u_u

I want to make a good background for her so i’m not telling anything. Yet. I’ll just say she’s a qunari mercenary and prefers using two-handed weapons.

Highlights from today:

Studying history does pay off! This was a reference to the famous book in environmental history - Guns, Germs and Steel by Jared Diamond. So proud i recognised it x)

Also i don’t have a good shot of solas but he cracks me up so much.. The guy has a posture of the typical retired grandpa (the only thing missing is to have him walk with his hands on his back). And there’s a scene where the party sees the rift and there’s the inquisitor facing it, cassandra bracing herself and solas... just standing like an old man

On a side note, Cassandra is so gorgeous and good and i already love her, i just keep taking shots of her TAT

As for varric, it’s so different than from da2, this is so much more “official” and you can see he’s the same as ever, but you’re not hawke, hawke’s not here, the gang’s not here and there’s nothing casual about the whole situation T-T

And lastly, my inquisitor has a horse now, i didn’t know that was possible in the game ;__;

played some more...

Let me start with.... The advisors! (+ cassandra... or is she also an advisor too?)

What a bunch. I love Cassandra’s and Leliana’s faith having a crisis bc they believe that Inquisitor is the Herald of Andraste and the way they deal with it. It’s really interesting. Leliana is completely opposite than what she was in origins and i’m surprised it doesn’t bother me at all! I love seeing this whole darker side that was only hinted at in origins, though it’s also sad when i think how she used to be. I wonder how she’s gonna overcome her doubting of faith.

Josephine is a delight. I keep using her for almost every war table mission for now. She radiates capability. She reminds me of those bureaucrats that are super nice and helpful and chill and even if you’re doing everything wrong she’ll just smile and say “it’s ok, we can fix it” and then goes and fixes everything herself (and you feel this insane amount of gratitude you send a whole separate email to thank her for her patience and help )

As for Cullen... It’s interesting... I got impression from what i saw in the fandom that he’s supposed to have had his allegiance changed and him rejecting the templars should have been him ultimately siding with the mages (or at least being anti-templar(?)), and that turning point that could have been a great way to show his character development during the game. Which i agree, only... i did not get that impression from the game so far at all. I mean, so far everything that i can remember him saying is totally smth he’d say in da2... He didn’t leave kirkwall bc of his disappointment with the templar order, he doesn’t seem to have any issues with the templars except those who go full war mode instead of trying to balance the situation. And it’s a really chaotic situtation, i love how they did it.

This line was amazing, i wish there was a special cutscene for that.

I’m loving the way they made this huge religious organisation in crisis have a complete collapse with the death of a key figure. I love the concept of inquisition and problems that it poses. I love you can see everyone’s reasoning and doubts reflect their background, but also see why inquisition can be understood as another power-grasping organisation trying to topple the templars, the mages and the chantry. Everything is divided. We got templars leaving the chantry, seekers leaving the chantry(?), rebel mages, loyal mages, rebel mages gone rouge, templars gone rouge, and suddenly there’s another organisation forming that you can totally believe is just another powerhungry force trying to get the piece of the cake by taking advantage of the power vacuum left by the sudden lack of the religious authority. (and only we know we’re The Good Guys). I love that we have characters who need to believe in the greater plan, characters who question the greater plan, and characters who want to utilise the power of belief and characters who don’t care for divine plans. The chaos is real and it feels real. I love that the centre figure of the whole holy business is a heretic of another culture. For the chantry this is the lose-lose situation (unless the inquisitor becomes religious by the end of the game). Which is why this line works so well.

Ok, now shorter updates:

Red Jenny! I know it’s not her actual name but it is in my head. Where’s that box i delivered ages ago >_> Anyways, she makes my brain work on 150% capacity. I can understand what she means only after i go over it for 5 times.

Forgive me but oh my god, i can’t believe that i can recognise one voice actor and now i have another mental image whenever he speaks. Like, he’s really good at bringing out a new character, but when he gets more casual he sounds like kanan jarrus from star wars rebels and i’m just “what are you doing here, space dad” ;__; Hopefully it’ll get old and i’ll be enjoying more iron bull. he seems nice...

Vivienne on the other hand is like a reverse Josephine(?) She seems insanely capable but hates customer service, however somehow she likes you very much and will do everything you need for reasons you can’t fathom. Have a screenshot. So classy. I already feel humbled.

and lastly, BREAKING NEWS: aveline finally hired carver ;__;

Tbh Kirkwall is still a mystery and i have so many questions but i don’t think i’ll get any answers... If a powervacuum of the divine cause this much chaos, how’s kirkwall faring without a new viscount? Like, yeah, aveline can keep in check, but umm it’s in a very vulnerable state which makes it a good target for any invasion... didn’t sebastian promise bloodshed?

That’s all for now, bc otherwise i’ll start writing an essay on cassandra.

We befriended a bear in the hinterlands!

lets start with this cool shot

so, i have been to the mages and to the templars and... i sided with the templars.... First i was all for mages since they offered negotiations while the seeker just walked away, but then it turned out that was a trap, there’s also tevinter mages there (which is a red flag for my inquisitor) and then there’s some time magic involved (which is a big no for me), and i just walked out. Felt bad for the mages but my inquisitor comes from a culture where mages have their tongues cut so...

Also this guy deserves a medal for putting up with corrupted superiors and annoying nobles.

And i met cole ;__; Where are Rhys and Evangeline ;___;

the templar mission was ok i guess... I was surprised that red lyrium was apparently circulating around for some time, not sure if that means since meredith or even before. I love the stories of corruption tho and to imagine what it’s like to be trapped in this organisation that just keeps breaking everything it stands for

As for the important mages, i’ve Dorian twice since i bailed out on him in Redcliffe :I I love the guy, he seems arrogant yet so kind (like, no one would have carried that annoying priest and yet he did, after he ran from his own people to warn us after i ditched him in Redcliffe? man ;A;) Every time i go with “ok the inquisitor fears tevinter and distrusts this rando who just popped in” i am marinating in guilt.

and then we fight some mages and die several times but we succeed and we meet the bad guy...

Is it an unpopular opinion to say that i like him as a villain so far? i saw so many jokes on his incompetency. Idk, i like that part where he said that he reached the fade in someone’s name, it makes me think he’s not just power-hungry person(?) who’s just evil,but was originally serving someone, and he said that the gods were either gone or corrupted and he spent hundreds of years thinking what to do with whatever happened so he seems like he knows what he’s doing and maybe(!just maybe) he is trying to fix things that are wrong but we can’t see that? And of course he hates the inquisitor, he has to redo his stuff all over again, i’d hate the inquisitor too. im probably looking too much into it. My wish is that, if he’s evil, he became so gradually, but originally had good intentions? Or there’s more to things going on that we just don’t know and he does... Maybe this was his tragic attempt to fix things but he would ultimately fail and be branded as a villain etc etc. I’m getting carried away

If it turns out he’s just evil for the sake of being evil then feel free to tell me so now so i don’t embarrass myself further with plotting myself lol.

A side note, is he the Architect? Or the same? In DA2 he says he’s a tevinter magister, right? and he ceased to be a human. Also in DA2 it seemed like he was the boss, and here he said he reached in the name of someone (probably more important than him). But what is the Architect then?

And with that we reach the skyhold.

in skyhold

I didn’t know you meet hawke so soon ;__; i thought that was like, somewere more to the end of the game, since the big decision and all. But the mission is already opened and i am going to procrastinate on it until i finish every side mission :<

Also he is so sad ;__; i understand, but at the same time... all that humour now bitter sarcasm :’(

(also, very shallow remark, but i really really prefer his looks in da2 than here... it’s like they softened him. He’s more...oh god idk bearish(???) than hawkish(????) you know what i mean? the nose isn’t as sharp anymore, the beard is... what is it with the beard... anyways i get the game has its limits so it’s fine. it’s fine! fine.)

then there was the fight that i remember since twitter >:D

It’s what made me want to play dragon age and i finally reached it T-T so good! I love how you can see the both sides and everything they say is true but they’re so angry at themselves they’re taking it out on each other TAT

Cassandra later says Hawke probably wouldn’t have joined the inquisition even if she found him, and i wonder now if that’s true... At first i thought, nah, Hawke has too much of a hero complex, he would feel too responsible to just say no. Besides, he’s with the inquisition now (tho i can’t find him anywhere anymore!). But at the same time, the way da2 ends was such an iconic walking away from everything, and not taking into account the hocus-pocus rift stuff, i can imagine him refusing, especially seeing how bitter he is now. It’s also a question of how much would have cassandra told him i guess. idk, what do you think? Would he lead or nah?

another person i want to find but can’t in skyhold are the templars with ser barris. i can use them on war table missions but otherwise they’re non-existant? i forgot to talk to him back in haven but now i wonder if it was even possible and if he was even available there, since he isn’t here. I spent hours just running around skyhold looking for the guy :(

and then everything becomes unimportant bc aaaaa!! she! is the arcanist! Dagna! im so happy and proud(?) she went and reached her goals x)

anyways that’s all for now, laters

some random updates:

so i did the halamshiral and gave up to my “stick to the character” mode, and nothing went my way, but that’s life. Met morrigan! i almost forgot she appears lol. And, despite also jumping on the wagon of give-morrigan-better-clothes train, i have to admit seeing her in her old clothes was a relief after that dress at the ball. It’s not the way the dressed looked, but the way she moved in it... god im shallow

i also initially didn’t like morrigan being at orlais court of all places, but after the conversation that’s supposed to explain why she’s there i’m kinda ok with it. I mean, i still need some more info. Wouldn’t Tevinter be better? she’d practically become a magister overnight if she got this good in the game so fast. It’s also unconvincing how everyone knows everything in orlais but somehow nobody connected that the random kid that has no bakcground whatsoever with morrigan who keeps checking on him? But at skyhold she’s just “hey i have a kid, he’s no trouble, right?” but hey, it’s morrigan. She can do anything. I’ll just have another story idea in my head.

Then there was news of the new divine that could be either cassandra or leliana and i don’t honestly know whom to choose. I’d prefer leliana over cassandra simply bc cassandra is more of a military mind, while the position of the divine would be more political. But lately every mission with leliana was spy spy, kill kill... Do we really want that for a religious leader? On the other hand, it would nicely round up her story from origins to inquisition... But cassandra is more of a public figure than leliana is...

when cassandra said:

“I want to respect the tradition, but not fear change. I want to right the past wrongs, but not avenge them. And I have no idea if wanting any of them makes them right.”

great moment. She’s usually so convinced and rash, i forget she’s more doubtful and open minded than what she looks like. Everything about cassandra is different from the impression she gives ;__; I love her so so so so much. (when she says she considers the inquisitor her friend i melted, next time varric pulls up the “seeker has no friends” joke, my heart will no longer be breaking).

I did a bunch of personal missions. Some were cool, some were ????. Also there were war table missions with zevran, that was cool. Also i love the codex entries in skyhold. The archery competition with varric banned? Dancing lessons failing bc lace harding is on the move all the time? Perfect.

And i met chargers, i like them, and aaah that staff-bow from the trailer is such a cool idea ;A;

What i don’t get with bull’s chargers is - they’re a mercenary group right? But isn’t swordselling seen as the complete misunderstanding of the qun? I get only bull is qunari, but he’s the leader of them? How is that not frowned upon?

And lastly, i don’t think i’ve said this, but i love that they added codex entries in the loading screens. love it.

update

After months of procrastination, i have faced my fears and have met alistair. it was very anticlimatic beating 11 level monsters when i was level 21...

but.. ALISTAIR TAT He’s changed... but not changed... but changed! Like, his personality is the same, but he’s more serious, doesn’t run from responsibilities, isn’t as bitter as hawke (also, why do i get impression that i am supposed to get the impression that they’re friends? they’ve met like, once, and talked for less than a minute.. whatevs. let’s pretend they’ve met again when on the run), i really love the inquisition alistair ;;__;;

Also, i managed to get that awkward demon baby family reunion :D

know that morrigan says the vaguest generic thing “i told him his father was a good man” bc of various world states, but i also think she’s come a long way not to mock alistair, and then when he notices that she didn’t use the opportunity he mentions that the kid changed her and she’s like “pfft, yea right, you wish”....

... when she was the one who said that in the first place ;;__;;

Awwww :> I love that they bicker but softly. Kids have grown up :’) Anyways, when will alistair start paying alimony

The only weird one is Leliana bc when morrigan was introduced she was like “danger danger” (smth i’d sooner think alistair would do), and when alistair is (supposedly) in skyhold, Leli doesn’t even mention him, only hawke. bruh, what were they to you, you almost died together ;;__;;

oh i also slayed a dragon. I didn’t even want to fight that dragon. It was a hillarious feat of inquisitor, solas, cole and blackwall, all on level 21, having to chug all the health potions right at the beginning while fighting a dragon that was... level 13, after which i just let go of controls and suddenly everyone was hella good at fighting and slayed it (only cole needed revival several times).

And, befitting the wild-dream feel that it had, when i got back to skyhold and visited companions, suddenly i was drinking pelin with iron bull, and he’s reminiscing on that fight with the dragon and i’m like

it was awful and you weren’t even there.

i forgot to update

but last time i was playing i finished the hawke/alistair sacrifice and all the torture i went through with deciding whom to sacrifice vanished bc frankly, at one moment, i wanted to sacrifice both of them, but in the end it was much more easier to sacrifice hawke bc inquisition hawke just didn’t feel like hawke to me, while alistair improved since the origins!

and now i remembered why i didn’t update, in the same day cassandra rejected me so i was sad and didn’t continue playing since then (i think last time i played it was around easter?)

new update

BLACKWALL!! or should i say Thom Rainier? Wow, what an arc! It was also so fun bc i was all strict mode, picking the third option, telling him his life is in inquisitor’s hands and all that, but in the end i set him free. He’s so good, a true knight T-T

Also i romanced sera. we’ll see how that goes.

Also, fave point in the game so far, i wanted, for so long, to sit at that val roeayoux (can’t spell) cafe and finally did it with cole’s personal mission. THANK YOU COLE YOU TRULY CAN READ PEOPLE’S MINDS.

another interesting thing was that after specialising as a reaver, cassandra said that drinking dragon blood makes you grow scales and become mad. Iron Bull said that inquisitor smells better bc dragon blood and that qunari generally smell better than humans. So i’m guessing qunari have fractions of dragon in them? ok...

and now i started that mission with morrigan and the puzzles are killing me lol, i am this 👌 close to just go chase calpernia and give up on a well of sorrows.

#it's a terrible time to start a dragon age game but it's the only time #meet me at val royeaux with my pal cole fixing people's lives every sunday 5 pm

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amarabliss · 4 years

Text

Oaths and Hearts - 15 (Ignis Scientia/Reader)

So this is a crossover between FFXV and Dragon Age Inquisition.

You fell through a rift into the fade fighting the demons you swore to protect your world from. When you popped out you were no longer in the lands of Ferelden instead trapped in Insomnia. The gracious king allowed you to say recognizing power when he saw it. One thing led to another and now you were part of the procession of the prince to his wedding years later. Before the final battle, after years of fighting, losses, and love…your friend…your king…Noctis has asked you to change it all…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

“It’s really you.” You reached up, holding Hawke’s face. It felt worn and weathered as if it had been through many storms. Streaks of grey shot through his dark hair and beard that had grown longer.

“I will answer all your questions Inquisitor, but we cannot stay here. He will come back and I doubt the same tricks will work twice.” Hawke squeezed your hands before reaching for his staff and standing.

You stood up looking around seeing the pungent greens and browns of the fade, “…the Fade…”

“Yes…now come.” He held out his hand to you, “You’re not really here…but we have to find the door back to you. I’ll take you someplace safe until we can figure out where that is.”

You nodded taking his warm hand in his and followed behind him in silence. He seemed to know every path, nook, and crack to take them away. Finally, hours later when you could take the silence no more you spoke softly, “I’m so sorry…”

He stopped and looked down into your eyes. He shook his head, “Please tell me you have not held onto my memory as a burden?”

“It was an impossible choice…I would have stayed myself…” You began to tear up and fell silent when his free hand fell to your shoulder firmly.

“It was the right one. Alastair…as strong a man he is…do you really think he could have survived here?” Hawke smiled chuckling, “Sarcasm only does so much here…it had to be a mage, one who’s dealt with the fade before…and it couldn’t have been you, you held the power to close the rifts that plagued our home. It had to be me.”

“You can’t possibly be alright with it…” You asked as he turned continuing down a narrow path, “Hawke…”

“I admit…there was a time I was angry…” He nodded a little, “I gave up so much to keep you safe…My home, my life…Fenris…”

He looked at you again sighing, “Then I remember…if you hadn’t gone, I would have likely never made it back to Fenris anyways. Orlais is quite far from the Free Marches. I’m sure the world would have crumbled before I stepped foot in Ferelden. At least this way, I know he’s safe and alive.”

“…Varric…he wrote a letter…” You hung your head a little, “He wrote two actually…one to Carver and Fenris…Carver apparently responded, but Fenris…I never heard if he replied.”

“I doubt he would respond.” He kept walking as he reached back undoing a bag on his back as he stepped inside a cave of some sort. You looked around seeing how it was set up like a small home. Books lined a shelf, a fire was in the center a cauldron over it bubbling with something, nearby a cot and stool rested comfortably against the wall, “It’s not how Fenris would react. I’m sure he went out and found some of the Tevinter slavers to work out his grief.”

You watched him laugh a little setting down the bag pulling out what looked to be cheese and bread, “Hawke it’s been almost a decade…how have you survived?”

“Well…for a while it waves of demons…soon they backed off realizing I wasn’t just some helpless sleeping mage…” He looked over to you gesturing to the stool before he began slicing the bread and cheese, “I looked for a way out. There was a way in, so logically there’s a way out, haven’t been successful yet.”

“Then there are the spirits.” He looked at you, “Not always helpful, but not malicious like demons. I began visiting with them more and more. They helped me not feel alone, but it’s not the same as your own loved ones. After that it was just adapting…you begin to see things from different angles and perspectives. It’s that or you die.”

“And you were never one to quit.” You smiled a little.

“Well you’re here now, so things must be looking up.” He smirked a little bit before it faded seeing you look away quickly, “…or not…”

“I need to tell you what happened…” You met his gaze finally as he sat across from you, “Starting with…I haven’t been home in a long time…”

“Ignis! Just wait a second!” Gladio shouted at him as he rushed down the hill of debris after his friend, “You can’t just run off!”

Ignis looked around the area as the trio ran up behind him, “Look for something out of place…almost like you’re seeing double or feeling déjà vu.”

“Iggy, are you sure…” Noctis began to speak.

“Noct…” Ignis turned to him seeing his blue eyes widen as he spoke with firm authority, “I would go to the ends of the earth to protect and serve you. But for Y/N…please understand that I would traverse further into any unknown…and then one step more.”

Noct took in a deep breath nodding slowly, “I understand.”

“I don’t!” Prompto looked at them all as surprised filled all their eyes, “I mean I get we need to help Y/N, I do…she’s one of us! But I don’t understand why you think you have to go alone. We need to stick together. We’re stronger together.”

Ignis looked at the young Crownsguard before he spoke, “Prompto, you still have a lot to learn, but your loyalty is commendable. I will not be here…I will need you to make sure our king is safe and well cared for. My responsibilities will be split between you and Gladio.”

“But…wouldn’t it be faster…” He frowned hanging his head as he clenched his fist tightly, “We’ve just lost so much already…”

Gladio stepped close to him put his arm around Prompto’s shoulders, “Don’t let Iggy’s lanky appearance fool you, he’s capable of doing everything we can do together all by himself. He did all the training we did and more…one day he’s going to be General to the King, Noct’s right hand.”

“Damn straight.” Noct slapped a hand on Ignis’ back looking at him with pride, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Okay…” Prompto looked at Ignis with worried eyes, “But you have to come back, you have to promise. Come back with Y/N.”

“That I can do.” Ignis offered his hand to Prompto who took it tightly, “Now…help me find the way.”

They began scouring the area looking for any abnormality. Ignis had his journal out explaining over and over how you described the doorway to hime. Evening was setting on them as he scanned the area for the thousandth time.

“Hey Iggy?” He looked over to Noct who sat on a broken desk, “I just had a thought…Y/N has been there before…you’d think she’d be able to come back quickly.”

“Yes…what’s your point?” He shut the journal looking at the young king.

“What if it’s hard for her because he body isn’t near the door?” Noct watched Ignis stand straighter as he went on, “Libertus wouldn’t have known any better, he just wanted to get her help, but she told you that people fell into this place by falling asleep. Obviously, she knows that because they woke up.”

“She has always talked about needing anchors to come back…she could have meant herself...” Ignis took off his glasses wiping a hand over his face as he looked toward the setting sun.

That’s when he saw it. Almost indistinguishable from the sun’s glare. A soft shimmer, he took a step forward, “Noct you should follow that lead.”

“I can give Cor a call now.” Noct stood up watching Ignis carefully, “Maybe we can set up a tent nearby, once we find the way.”

“You won’t need to look much further.” Ignis told him as he kept stepping forward toward the shimmer. He could hear soft voices calling toward him. Voices he’d almost forgotten, it had been so long, “Mother?”

He blinked once and as a bright light blinded him momentarily. When he opened them again his eyes adjusted slowly seeing his old home. He stood there confused trying to get his balance back. He jumped as a warm voice washed from behind him, “Ignis, we’re going to be late.”

He turned seeing his mother smiling at him his father helped her with her jacket, “Mother?”

She tilted her head a little as she stepped toward him, “Darling is something wrong?”

He leaned into her touch as she cupped his cheek. He felt himself tearing up as your voice came to him, “The Fade gives you everything you ever wanted as it sucks the very life out of you.”

“Ignis?” His father stepped up behind his mother.

Swallowing down the painful knot in his throat he took a step away from them, “I-I know you’re not real.”

“…wha…” His mother looked to his father, “Roderick…”

“We knew this might happen, Eleanor.” Roderick put his arm around her shoulder before looking at Ignis, “Son, do you remember the accident?”

Ignis shook his head, “There was no accident…I came here to look for someone…”

He stepped around them to head for the door. His mother reached out grabbing his arm with both hands, “Ignis please…you need help…”

She felt so real to him as she tried to pull him back, “You’re not real…”

“Baby please…I’m your mother…” Tears welled up in her eyes. His eyes…he had his mother’s eyes. He had almost forgotten, “You were in an accident…it confused you.”

He pulled his arm from her with difficulty only of his have his father step in his way, “Ignis, be logical…”

“Though it pains me…I am.” He looked at his father balling his fist, “You are just…just a dream.”

“…” His father stared at him for a long time before bits and pieces of the room behind him began to fade away, “You’re not going anywhere…”

“I will find Y/N,” Ignis’ eyes narrowed on Roderick, “and I will leave with her.”

The image of his father began to shift and distort into a disgusting creature with insect like arms protruding from his back as his legs hovered over the ground. The rags it wore shifted around its skeletal frame as it clicked and hissed, “Humanssss…ck…fragile thingsss their mindsss…fear would be more appropriate it me thinkssss…”

“He has heart, but he’s too keen…” He looked back to where his mother once stood seeing a naked woman with purple skin and horns. She smirked tilting her head letting the purple flame that was in place of hair trail through the air as her tail flicked like a cat ready to pounce, “we’ll try it your way next.”

Rain began to fall thickly against his face as everything darkened around him. The two hideous creatures, who he determined were demons, disappeared from view. He spun around as the rain only got worse.

He could feel his heart beating loudly in his ears. He could hear your other reminder to him. This place could show your deepest desire, your deepest fear, and everything in between. Right now, he was inside a night that he ran from for years.

He looked around trying to steady his breathing as the road became clear under his feet. The rain was bouncing of the pavement. Each drop raising the water.

He turned again seeing the lights coming towards him. Quickly, he jumped off the road in time to see Roderick glance out the window toward him. Ignis felt a sick cold weight drop into his stomach as the car rode off down the road into the darkness.

The sound of screeching tires and crunching metal echoed in the space. He felt himself tense and clench his fist tightly as he shook his head, “It’s not real…”

He turned to walk away only to find himself once again on the road. He shook his head spinning around in the rain. Again the headlights in the distance came towards him. He stepped out of the way this time seeing his mother in the passenger seat.

He felt himself involuntarily reach for her. The same noises as before echoed around him. He put his hands to his head shaking it, “It’s not real…it’s not them…”

You watched Hawke putting things in a bag. Provisions, blankets, water… He had taken your story very well and had only asked to clarify a few things. The main one focusing on your child.

Your form here in the Fade wasn’t one that showed how far along you were. In fact, the more you were talking with him you found your clothes seemed to change into what you would wear around Skyhold. You asked him about it, he only smiled pointing out that I was the dreaming.

“We should head out. I don’t know how this would affect your unborn son.” Hawke threw the pack on before moving to his staff, “There’s a reason why mages in the circle terminate anything that resulted after fraternizations.”

“I’m aware…” You shook your head standing to your feet, “It wasn’t like I planned it…”

“No…but you of all people knew how to be careful. Especially you…” Hawke spoke quietly, “I never apologized by the way…”

“You needn’t…Cullen and I weren’t exactly being discreet that day.” You reflected to the moment he referred to.

“What is it all for then?!” Cullen shouted at you across the room, “What is all of this fighting for if not to have a family and preserve the future?”

“It’s different…when you’re a mage.” You crossed your arms trying to remain calm, “You wouldn’t understand…”

“Then help me to…” He stepped over to you putting his hands on your arms, “My darling, please…I love you…I want…I want to have a family with you.”

You looked into his eyes feeling tears come to your eyes, “It’s not possible…”

“What do you mean?” His brow crinkled in that particular way that always made you worry about him. You hated that you were the cause of it, “Y/N, what do you mean?”

“Cullen…” You sniffed looking away, “I…I won’t allow it.”

You watched as his face went blank as he took a step back, “You won’t allow it…”

“Cullen, you know what it’s like for a mage…you-you witnessed two circles and all of their cruelty.” You watched him turn away from you, “You can’t expect me want that for a child! Andraste’s grace, I was fourteen and privileged because of my nobility and I was still…”

You stopped letting your arms fall shaking your head, “I don’t need to defend my decision to you.”

“No?” He turned to you anger clear on his face, “Did you ever consider what I wanted? Ever?”

“Cullen…” You sighed shutting your eyes.

“I want children!” His voice raised as he stepped toward you, “I want to be a father so I can change the world and teach my children that magic is not to be feared if you’re willing to understand! So that what you went through at Ostwick will never happen to another mage!”

“I don’t!” You shouted back at him, “It’s not my responsibility to change the world! I’ve done enough as it is, and I will see it through, but I don’t want more!”

The creak of the door made you both look over and Hawke stared at the both of you for a long time. He apologized asking to speak with the Inquisitor. You kept seeing Cullen for a long while after that…but you knew that had been the end of the relationship.

“This Ignis…he must be something special for you to lose yourself.” Hawke smirked a little walking next to you down the path.

You looked at him and smiled, “He is, he really is. He’s understanding…strategic…and kind, so kind.”

“You, my friend, have a type.” Hawke nudged you, “Strong strategic blonde gentleman, no doubt easy on the eyes, and a smile that dazzles for days, right?”

“When he does smile, yes. And I never said he was blonde…” He laughed telling you he assumed simply because you had good taste as you chuckled a little before sighing. You missed Ignis so much, you could swear you heard him calling your name.

Hawke grabbed you by the arm taking you from your thoughts. He gently pulled you off the side pressing himself against the wall, “There’s a nightmare over there.”

“A nightmare demon?” You felt yourself grow cold, “Hawke…”

“No…just a nightmare…probably a lost soul trapped in memory…or a fabrication…” He pointed out the dark area, “It’s in the way…I’m certain your way out is on the other side of it.”

“We should help them.” You told him trying to peer over.

“Are you mad?” Hawke looked at you with furrowed brow, “Stepping into someone’s nightmare…it could shatter you. Make you forget who you are.”

“But that person is in danger!” You pointed over his shoulder, “If we can help-”

“There’s no time…I can’t focus on saving you if we’re saving them!” He snapped at you taking your arms in his hands, “You have to think of your unborn son.”

You stared into his eyes for a long time before you nodded. You hated that people kept using Ulric against you. You knew your condition…you knew your limits…and yet you always fell in line, “Fine…then what do we do?”

Hawke looked back at that black mass for a moment, “We go around and play it safe. You have to do exactly what I tell you. It’s going to bring us close to where I found you before…do you understand?”

“I do.” You nodded slowly before taking in a deep breath, “What about Ardyn?”

“One problem at a time.” Hawke sighed adjusting the pack on his shoulder, “If we’re lucky we don’t have to worry about him.”

“When have we ever been lucky?” You hissed at him as he started down the path again.

He didn’t answer you as you both moved down the path. Tension only seemed to rise with each passing hour. Your nerves felt on fire as you looked around the open area. Nothing seemed amiss as you moved a good distance away from the nightmare, but you knew better then to just relax.

…Y/N…

You stopped whipping around looking around the area as your heart thumped in your ears. You could hear Hawke behind you, “We need to keep moving…”

“Sh!” You held up your hand to get him to stay silent.

…Y/N!...

You took a step toward the nightmare swirling like a hurricane, “Did you hear that?”

“…yes…” Hawke stepped toward you, “It’s not him…it can’t be.”

You heard your name again calling out the distance, “Ignis…”

“Y/N, be reasonable. Logically think it out…” Hawke grabbed your arm, “What are the chances…”

“You don’t know him.” You looked at Hawke shaking your head, “Ignis would find a way…”

“Stop…” Hawke grabbed your arm, “We are so close to getting you home and the more we linger here, the more likely your other friend will show back up.”

Again you heard your name, it sounded like it was in so much pain, but you had to be sure, “I’m sorry Hawke…”

He called after you as you ripped your arm running full speed toward the swirling darkness. As soon as you entered the void you were jettisoned back in a memory from long ago. You shivered instantly drawing your arms close and across your chest.

You struggled walking forward through the thick snow as the blizzard only seemed to ramp up. You back in the ruins of Haven after meeting Corypheus for the first time.

You jaw chattered as the cold sunk deep into your bones, “No…nono…Ignis!”

You stopped looking around at the wind blew your hair around wildly. You didn’t hear a response…feeling dread sink into your gut you began to doubt your decision.

“Y/N!” Your spun looking in the dark toward the voice.

“Ignis!” You shouted again running, falling toward the voice, “Ignis!”

Snow mixed with rain. Terrain shifted under your feet as the nightmares began to overlap with one another. You could just make out a silhouette in the distance. You forced your self to move faster as his form became clearer with every step.

You rushed into his arms the nightmare ripple out away from the both of you. Rain and snow stopped in place swirling around as if a protective shield enclosed the both of you. He pulled away brushing your hair from your face before resting his forehead against yours.

“How…” You stared into his eyes as tears dripped down your face, “How…”

“You give very good instructions on what to look for.” He brushed them away with his thumbs, “I couldn’t let you stay here.”

“Ignis…” You shook your head until he took your face in his hand kissing you. He was here, he was really here.

“How…I’ve been here so long…how did you two…” Ignis moved in front of you instinctively when Hawke came upon the two of you as the void began to fade away from the area, “You should both be…not sane…”

“It’s okay, Ignis.” You put your hand on his arm looking at Hawke, “This is my friend…he’s gonna help us go home.”

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rainbows-fanfics · 6 years

Text

My New Reason (Chapter 4)

Summary: Louis is falling for someone he really shouldn’t be, and the same is happening to Clementine. Loustine/Clouis

Clementine's P.O.V. I was having a lot of confusing thoughts lately. I wasn't ill or anything. I was fine, healthy even. Until we came to Ericson's Boarding School, A.J. and I hadn't been eating or drinking regularly for weeks. We finally had people taking care of us; new friends, new family. So I wasn't bothered physically. Nothing really should be troubling me - I was just unsettled by the thoughts I've been having and everything that's come from it. They were about Louis. I used to not think about him. The first day I met him, he felt like a stranger to me. But he was the first one I grew comfortable with, and he was the first to fully gain A.J.'s trust. I somehow felt like it was destined for us to meet him. In some weird way, we were kind of missing something before he came along. Or, at least something had existed but wasn't very strong before. My thoughts all started back when we had our very first dinner at the boarding school. We sat down to eat, and A.J. practically inhaled his serving before everyone else finished theirs. Before I could insist to him that he could have no more, because we really didn't want to take advantage of these people sharing their food, Louis had given him his own serving without hesitation. The look on my face was one I will never forget wearing. I was so thankful. So appreciative. So...touched by the kindness someone I just met could have. That someone I barely knew gave up their food for my boy. He insisted he'd have it, and that was the moment I felt a warm swelling in my chest. Something...that hasn't warmed for a long time.

It didn't end there, either. Louis kept humoring the both of us, and I later remembered how he treated A.J. He let him press the keys of the piano and kept him engaged while I was gone. And, I hadn't known at the time,(A.J. later confessed to me), but Louis had gone down and helped him back up when Marlon shoved him to the ground. He approached him from behind, and as my boy recalled, it was the first time he hadn't responded to out of fear. He felt safe, and trusted him. I did, too. That...was actually where these thoughts came from. I was first bewildered at the realization that someone could do all of this for two strangers. Someone in the midst of the apocalypse willingly sharing kindness and rations to someone who they didn't even know very well. I could firmly say that I would not have done the things Louis has done for us, but that doesn't mean I'm not appreciative of it. I'm...more than that. I'm grateful. But not just that, either. My thoughts turned from admiration to something else real quickly. The more I spent time with him, the more I realized I was thinking about Louis. I used to constantly think long-term for A.J. and I, making plans for the future and how we'll search for food and water. The longer I stuck around, the less I worried about those things. I was thinking more of today now, relishing the present more than the future. Exactly what Louis enlightened me of not too long ago. I found that enjoying my moment meant spending more time with him. I found more excuses to go with him to scavenge or set up traps(I've had more experience than ever with these things), and whenever I had the free time, he and I just talked. A.J. didn't mind having the time alone for himself. Sometimes he just stuck around with Louis and me, and every time he did, Lou would find a new way to make him laugh. I mused a lot about their interactions at night. In a way, it felt like he was a father figure to A.J. More than his actual one had been...he had never really grown up with one besides Kenny, but I got the impression he didn't remember a lot about him. He'd been with me his whole life, and even I came to terms with being his maternal figure. He had yet to find a guy to relate to - and now I think his search had finally ended. "I think I'm going nuts." I mutter to myself, shaking my head as I shield myself under a tree. I watch as A.J. plays a game of tag with Tenn and Willy. I find my eyes searching around for him before I can stop myself - and I find Louis standing off to the side with Violet, chatting about who-knows-what. Judging by the look on her face, she seems to be annoyed with their conversation. I look away from both of them before that feeling could surface in my chest again. I really was going nuts. The last time I've had butterflies in my stomach looking at a guy was back when Gabe was around. And even then it was just a crush more than anything - I hadn't thought of him as much as I thought about Louis. And I certainly didn't spend as much time with him. I didn't know a lot about Gabe...whereas I was starting to know more about Lou. Sure, one looked better than the other, and one had one hell of a voice too, but the other had better hair. And he was a lot taller than Gabe ever was. Why are you comparing them so much? That was a good question - why WAS I doing this? I knew I liked Gabe, but I was unsure of my feelings for Louis. He was starting to become a good friend...maybe even.... I stop my thoughts before they go any further. It was enough that they bothered me so much at night. He actually appeared in one of my dreams because of how much I'd been thinking of him. I furrow my eyes and clench my fists, coming to my feet and approaching the two figures before I could even think about what I'm doing. "Louis," My voice comes out more demanding than I intended. "I need to talk to you." He notices my stern look and jumps, but the next moment he regains his composure and dramatically leans down in front of Violet. "It seems my princess desires my presence! I'll have to continue this talk later, Vi." "Thank God." She rolls her eyes and gives me a thankful look. "You take him. He won't shut up about cantaloupes." He turns to point at her back. "-I would rather DIE to a bunch of walkers than eat another one of those god-damned-OOF!" I drag him by the arm back to the tree I was resting under. He allows me to guide him before finally getting his balance back, all before I roughly take him to the side. I make sure we're far away from the others so no one can eavesdrop, but not out of A.J.'s sight. I mentally try to piece together how this conversation is going to go. "Princess?" Is the first thing I say, raising an eyebrow and crossing my arms. "Well, you call me your 'Prince Charming', so that should make you my princess, right?" He waits for my response but he doesn't get one. "Should I call you 'Cinderella', then?" I'm tempted to flirt back, but I have to resist the urge. That was weird enough. I decide to be direct and learn forward. "Why are you so nice to A.J.?" He's taken back by the question(he was probably expecting something else. Doofus), but answers it regardless. "Oh, uh, he's a nice kid." "There's got to be more than that." "He reminds me of me when I was his age." Louis grinned. "A troublemaker, but at heart, a good kid." "I can't argue with that." I relax myself. My eyes come across him and I forget about my surroundings. I start to count the freckles on his face and admire his jawline...something I normally didn't care about in people. My eyes just started to come to his collarbone when I notice he's looking at me, then I briefly look away. My cheeks warm and I start to feel goosebumps crawl up my arms. Here comes that tingly, warm sensation again.... "You seem surprised," He brings up after a moment. "You act like no one else has been good with A.J. before." "That's because they haven't." I pause. "Or, at least he doesn't let them be...his father wasn't around and he hasn't had anyone besides me to look up to." "What exactly happened to his dad?" He notices me tense. "If you want to tell me, that is..." I go silent wondering if I should. It really wasn't any of his business; it wasn't anybody's. I swore not to tell anyone on Rebecca's behalf, but it's been so wrong keeping it from A.J. as it is...maybe someone else should know. Just to ease it from my mind. As big-mouthed as Lou was, I trusted him keeping these things to himself. "We're not exactly sure who his father is." I admitted. "He's named after Alvin because that's who his mother was with. But this man named Carver..." I shudder mentioning his name. "Let's just say he was NOT a good person. He, uh, had an...'encounter' with A.J.'s mom, and she got pregnant shortly after-" "-So they assumed it was his, but because she was with Alvin, they named the baby after him and it's been known as theirs since?" He noticed my surprised look and shakes his head. "It's easy to piece together. I, uh... I can't imagine how that must be. A.J. must not know, huh?" "No. I was thinking of telling him when he got older, but I don't know if I should mention it at all." I glance over to his figure playing with the others. "Alvin was a better man than Carver could ever be. I think it's better off having it this way." He looks me over with a frown. "A lot of fucked up things has happened to you both, huh?" I weakly nod. "Makes sense he wouldn't let anyone in after all that time. Well, anyone besides you." "And that's what makes me really confused." I confess. "He let you in so easily compared to others who have tried to get close to him. He likes you. And we haven't known you as long." "What can I say? I've got natural charm. The kids love me." I can tell Louis is just being Louis, but he isn't wrong. I don't know a single kid here that doesn't like him. It's almost as if he's had experience with children...he knew the right things to say and do around them. I've known people who didn't know how to do that. It was hard getting A.J. to actually act like a kid for me, sometimes - yet he did it without thinking. "....Either I have something on my face or you're staring at me a lot, Clem." I didn't realize I'd been giving him a fond look, and blink repeatedly to snap myself back into reality. "What?" "I wish you'd just tell me because, y'know, Vi could've seen it and not say anything. Last thing she'd want to do is save me from embarrassment. I thought you cared more about me than that." He started messing with his hair and I shake my head, chuckling to myself. Okay, that was kind of cute. "You have nothing on your face." I pause before glance him over. "You look fine." He gives a sigh of relief, but I don't want him to be too comfortable yet. I go on my tiptoes and lean upwards to poke at the side of his cheek. "You are missing a tooth, though." He swats my hand away. "Tell me something I don't know, Princess." "If you call me princess again, I'm going to kick you." "If you're going to kick your Prince Charming, at least do it with your glass slipper, sweetheart." Ignoring how my heart leapt for that last nickname(why the hell was he so good at them?), I lightly tap the side of my boot on his leg. He pretends as if it hurt him, clutching at his knee and giving me an obviously-fake pained look. "Ouch! If you'd have kicked me any harder, Clem, I would've fallen for you!" "Oh you would've, now?" I raise my eyebrow. He comes back up and winks at me, giving me a coy smile. "Nah, I already have. I probably would've just landed in that patch of dirt behind you." As I felt my chest tighten at those first few words, he leans closer to me and starts to come down. I widen my eyes and hold my breath - wondering if he was going to do what I thought he was going to do. Instead of reaching my lips, he brought up a hand and rubbed something off the side of my forehead. "Oh, by the way, you had something here." I can feel the blush growing on my face as I watch him leave with my mouth agape. I gather enough courage to give him one last remark. "Idiot!" "Still your Prince Charming!" He called back. I could still see the wink he gave me from so far away, and he strutted off. He must feel so cocky finally catching me off guard. Swearing him off in my head, I turn on my heel and approach A.J. He must be done playing, because he now he was resting on one of the benches and looking at something. I turn and notice he was watching Louis leave through the front gates. I try to hide the blush again and I place my hands on my hips. "Done playing tag, kiddo?" A.J. notices me and nods his head. "Yeah. It was fun." "Did anyone win?" "Well, Willy did, but I'll do better next time." "Let's get you into a new set of clothes. You dirtied yourself up." He looks down and notices all the mud and grass stains,and doesn't hesitate to follow me into the building. When we enter out room, I start to go through A.J.'s clothes and picked out something new for him to wear. I'm going to have to clean these again sometime soon... I listen as A.J. sits on the bed and watches me. I give him his clothes and he looks at it funny. I tilt my head to the side. "What's wrong? You like your Disco Broccoli shirt still, right?" "Yeah, I do." He took the pile from me slowly. "It's just...well..." His eyes made contact with mine. "Do you love Louis?" The breath left my throat and I looked at him in surprise. I tried to regain my composure, wondering how A.J. could've asked a question like that at a time like this. I attempt to laugh it off. "What makes you say that?" "You smile around him a lot. I haven't seen you do that around anyone else besides me before." He fidgets with his shirt. "And you two act more like a couple than friends...Tenn told me the difference." "What did Tenn tell you?" "He told me how Violet and Minnie would have nicknames for each other and they'd sometimes touch their faces or hold each other really close. They laughed and smiled all the time. And, well, you do that a lot with Louis." "He's a funny guy," I defend. "No, it's different. I know you. You love him - but you just won't admit it." I roll my eyes. "Change into your clothes already." He hops off the bed and goes towards the closet. He turns around to close the door and change real quick, but before he does, it holds it open and looks at me. I go to tell him to hurry up already, but he speaks before I could. "Because if you do...I'm okay with that. He makes me smile, too." He closes the closet door after that, and I find myself staring at the floor thinking about what he's just said. I look outside the boarded-up window and listen to the voices in the courtyard. The moment I hear Louis', I feel my heart beat faster again and bite my lip. That kid may know more about me than I do...

#Long #Long post #TWDG #The Walking Dead Game #the walking dead game done running #Louistine #Clouis #Clementine X Louis #A.J.#Alvin Jr #fanfiction #fan fiction

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gaysparkler · 5 years

Text

Of Darkness and Light Within: Chapter 2

Rating: T

Summary: “If you’re looking to start a life, you could stay. I can help you.” Life had not been easy for Frederic Hawke since his family’s hasty departure from Lothering. Losing his town, his younger sister, everything he had ever known. With the help of newfound friends, including a mysterious white-haired elf, he keeps his enemies and his own darkness at bay. A retelling of canon events.

Pairing: Male Hawke x Fenris

AO3 Link: Click here

The elven alienage was much more welcoming during the day. With Varric, Anders and Fenris, Hawke went to meet Arianni, an elven woman who requested help. At first it was only a rumour, but Varric finally had enough leads to confirm them. Something about her missing mage son, Feynriel. Fenris was obviously not thrilled at the idea of helping a mage, but he was in Hawke’s debt. They spent most of the day travelling in the city, asking people questions. Hawke noticed Fenris’ eyes wander around when they were in the Gallows.

“I’ve…heard about the Circle of Magi outside the Imperium, but I’ve never been in one.” His eyes lingered on a copper statue, then went to Hawke, to the glaive strapped to his back. “Are you certain it’s wise for you to be here?”

“Maybe not,” Hawke truthfully answered. “But I’ll be cautious.”

“This seems more like a prison. I wonder if it’s more effective than the Circle I know.”

“How is the Imperial Circle of Magi different?” Hawke was curious, but he was careful with what he was asking. Already Anders was boiling with anger.

“Once upon a time, it was as it is here. The Chantry watched the Magisters closely for any sign of corruption or weakness. Then it changed. The Magisters were permitted to watch over their own, and Templars only kept to enforce the law.”

“As it should be,” Anders objected. Fenris ignored him.

“What happened next was inevitable. The Magisters rule again, as powerful as they ever were.” There was disdain in Fenris’ voice. Almost disgust.

“You’re saying the same thing could happen here?” Hawke asked in bewilderment.

“If the mages were permitted to be their own watchers? Of course. It is too easy for a mage to resort to blood magic if they feel the need is great enough.”

“As easy as it is to resort to a sword! You were created as a living weapon. Should you not be trusted with your own freedom?” Anders argued.

“My powers are not controlled by a demon,” Fenris snapped. “A mage can desire power, justice, revenge, protection…any cause will do, and then they are lost.”

“You can’t say all mages are corrupt,” Hawke tried to reason.

“All I’m saying is the Imperium offers no answer. All that Andraste did long ago to end the tyranny of magic has been undone.”

“She ended the tyranny of magic and replaced it with an entirely new one,” Anders maintained.

“Considering all that magic has done to my homeland and my race, I weep for your predicament.” Hawke could see fire between Fenris and Anders. He quickly understood that they would most likely never get along. Fenris kept going, this time looking at Hawke. “Power corrupts, as they say, and mages have power enough already.”

“There must be some other way to deal with this. The Circle should be a place of learning. You said yourself that it looked like a prison,” Hawke said. “If they are always living in fear of being made Tranquil, or even being killed, of course the mages will be more tempted to turn to blood magic.”

“Hm. I may not agree with your stance, but at least you know how to make a point,” Fenris’ eyes darted to Anders. “But enough of this. We came here for something, we should move on.”

Ser Thrask did not provide much information about where Feynriel could be, but he did give them the name of someone who might know. Samson, a supposedly retired Templar helping mages hide. Night fell when they left the Gallows. Hawke lead the way to Darktown. No one uttered a word of the conversation that occurred just before.

“Samson? I was told you could help me find a mage, his name is Feynriel,” Hawke said. Samson turned to him and the smell of bile, sweat and thunder reached his nose.

“Heh. Ol’ Vincento said someone might come sniffing around. As for the boy, there’s not much I can do for you.”

“Is it true you’re helping apostate escaping from Templars?” Anders asked.

“The mages I help, they’re no more than children, newly discovered their magic, and terrified. Barely left their mothers’ skirts and now we’re saying they got to be locked away for their own good. That demons are hunting them. Do you wonder they run?”

“Not at all, actually,” Hawke replied. He got back on track. “What can you tell us about Feynriel? Did you meet him?”

“Afraid so. Blighter was dead broke though, not a silver on him. I help one mageling for free and I’ll never get paid again.”

“But you said you were helping children!” Hawke argued. “How are they supposed to pay a fee?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Samson interrupted. “I pointed him to a ship captain I know. Reiner. Sometimes, he’ll take on runaways. Took another apostate last week—girl I sent him. Might’ve gone wrong, though. I heard rumours he took the both of them captive instead.”

Hawke’s heart sank. “Please tell me it’s not too late to save him.”

“Rumour has it Reiner had the pair locked in a quays warehouse. Somewhere close to the dockside. You want to go looking, you might find the lad before he gets ransomed to the Templars. Or worse.”

“Right. Thank you.” He walked away from Samson until he was far enough to talk to his friends. “I know it’s late, but we can’t risk losing him. His life is in danger, I’m afraid he’ll be dead if we wait too long.”

“Lead the way, Hawke,” Varric said.

“This boy may be a mage, but I would not see him become a slave,” Fenris added. “I am ready when you are.”

The four of them made their way to the docks.

~~~

They reached Arthuris' private dock without harm. It was another story when they entered. Hawke did not notice the trap right in front of the door, and his leg got caught in metal claws, making him shout in pain. The others had no time to help. A group of heavily armed marines was just waiting for them to arrive and they unsheathed their swords at the sight of them. Caught in his trap, Hawke could not do much. Fenris rushed forward with his great sword, assuming Carver’s usual role. Varric was too busy with other archers that he did not have the time to free Hawke from the trap. Anders managed to slip through the room and attacked from a distance. Hawke swirled his staff, cringing with every move. He could feel blood dripping down his ankle and flooding his boot—a new pair on top of that. When the fight was over, Varric ran to him first. He fiddled with the mechanism until it snapped open and freed Hawke’s leg. He sighed in relief. Anders insisted to heal him, but Hawke did not want him to waste his magic over that. Fenris eyed him with concern. Hawke took the lead again, limping just slightly. Pain shot up his leg with every step, but he did not let it show. He walked up the stairs and heard the commotion.

“Get a hold of her!” a man shouted.

“Please, help me—anyone!” the girl Samson talked about pleaded.

“Get the hands! I hear they can’t do no spells without hands!”

Hawke ran forward, but it was too late. Already, he felt a demon come through to the mortal realm and possess the poor girl. She rose to her feet, an abomination, and attacked her captors. “You know nothing of magic!” she yelled.

The fight was short. The abomination killed most of the men, so there was only her left. Hawke did not want to kill her, but he knew that there was no way back from that. Fenris was the one who gave the final blow. Her body returned to normal, the demon having no reason to stay. On her body, Hawke found a letter.

“That poor girl,” Anders said. “Who do you suppose she was?”

“Ser Thrask’s daughter. Her name was Olivia.” Hawke passed his hand over Olivia’s eyes to close them. He would inform Ser Thrask of the location of her body so he could retrieve it if he wished. Varric pulled him out of his thoughts.

“I found something!” he shouted. “In that chest, accounts of what Reiner did with his ‘cargo’. Feynriel was sold to a certain Danzig. I suggest we pay him a visit.”

“Hawke, just let me take care of your leg, please? Maker knows how long it’ll be before we find the boy.”

Hawke shook his head. “I’ll just take a potion, it’ll be fine. Hand me one?”

Anders sighed, took out a vial and handed it to Hawke, who quickly drank it. His walk did not improve. They exited the warehouse and were on their way, once again to Darktown. Hawke distanced himself from the others, but Fenris caught up to him.

“Your men are tired—you are tired. We should take a break. Two hours at most, until sunrise,” Fenris suggested.

“But we have to keep going—”

“I doubt this Danzig will show himself in the middle of the night.” Hawke stared at him, then gave in. He stopped in his tracks and asked Anders if they could rest in his clinic. It was the nearest place they could stay. Anders agreed. They pulled crates to use as seats. Hawke did not miss Varric’s sigh of relief when he sat down. He finally admitted to himself that he was quite tired. Sleeping was however out of the question. Feynriel was their priority.

Hawke removed his shredded boot to assess the damage done by the bear trap. There were deep incisions going around his shin. The potion stopped the bleeding but did nothing for the possible broken bone. While Varric and Fenris talked and Anders was busy with patients, Hawke quickly crafted a makeshift splint for his leg and put his boot back over it. He anxiously glanced outside, waiting for the first rays of the sun. As soon as they showed, Hawke gathered his party and they were on the move. It took them only minutes to find Danzig, who was surrounded by slavers.

“Why, look here, boys. Volunteers! Clap ‘em up in irons, and let’s see what the Tevinters will pay for them,” the vile man said. Hawke saw Fenris tense up. He gave him a nod.

“Can you make him talk?” Hawke asked.

“I’d love to,” Fenris answered, his markings lighting up as he shoved a hand through Danzig’s chest. He removed it quickly, but the pain was enough to have Danzig fall to his knees in agony.

“Andraste’s great flaming ass! How did you do that?” he shouted. “N—never mind. I’ve stashed the boy in a cave. A smuggler hideout on the Wounded Coast. Tevinters will be by to finish the deal today. Now, c—can I go?”

“I let you live, and I condemn countless innocents to slavery,” Hawke answered. With only a nod from Hawke, Fenris finished the job and killed him. The others immediately attacked. There seemed to be slavers everywhere. When Hawke thought they were done, more ran down the stairs to overwhelm them. He was exhausted once it was over.

“We have no time to lose, let’s go to the Wounded Coast,” Hawke declared.

~~~

The holding caves were filled with giant spiders and smugglers. This time, Varric was in front to make sure that no one would get injured in a trap. They made quick work of their foes, finally arriving at the end of the cave.

“Take one more step, or the boy dies!” the leader yelled. He had a knife at Feynriel’s throat.

“Varric, tell this man who we are,” Hawke said. His eyes remained on Feynriel.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t be threatening the Viscount’s son,” Varric warned. Hawke smiled.

“What?” the man whispered.

“Oh, I suppose you got a tip from a slaver that he was selling mage-flesh cheap. You never thought to ask where he got it? You never wondered if you were buying the Viscount’s well-known love child from his elven mistress, the boy he swore to protect even if it meant razing the entire Free Marches?”

The smuggler hesitated. “I seek no war with the Free Marches. Take the lad to his father.”

“Fine, but you won’t walk out of here alive.”

“Damnation! Get down you, you’re no good to me as a corpse!”

Hawke really needed to stop his habit of getting into fights constantly. His leg was pulsing with pain as he casted spells and stabbed people who walked too close to him. The leader was the hardest to defeat. He kept vanishing into thin air and Hawke was worried he would use it at his advantage to take Feynriel away. Hawke never stopped searching the room and tried to predict where he would come up again. He saw him appear behind Fenris, his daggers drawn, and Hawke barely had time to freeze him in place. Fenris quickly turned and ran his sword through him. It was over. Hawke ran to Feynriel.

“You would have let him kill me!” Feynriel accused, clearly irritated. “He had a sword at my throat and you just…I mean, thank you, but… What if you were wrong?”

“You were too valuable for him to kill,” Hawke answered.

“Is that my choice? Prisoner or slave?” Feynriel took a breath to calm down. “Who are you? Are you working for the Templars?”

“Your mother sent me.”

“Huh. Hardly a difference. I can’t believe her! My whole life, it was all promises that she would love and protect me forever. Then, I have some bad dreams and it’s off to the Templars!”

“I’m here to help you, Feynriel.”

“Why? You don’t even know me!”

Hawke answered by summoning a small beacon of light in his palm. Feynriel’s eyes widened. “I’m just like you. I would not let one of my own go to the Circle.”

“Is there any way you can bring me to the Dalish? That’s where I was trying to go. I’m as much Dalish as I am human.”

“We can try, but I have to warn you that you will be alone among the Dalish. Even more than a Dalish would be here.”

“Compared to being held prisoner? Or being made Tranquil? I’ll risk being lonely. Look, I know it’s different in other kingdoms, but here? No one helps Circle mages. Anything the Templars don’t like, you get the brand.”

“He’s right on that count,” Anders said.

“But the Dalish,” Feynriel continued. “They’ve had magic forever. They could teach me! I won’t be a danger, I swear.”

“The Keeper trains him, keeps him safe from demons, no one gets locked up. Sounds like a winning plan!” Anders approved.

“Because no Dalish mage ever went astray,” Fenris mused.

“Is it true you’re plagued by nightmares already?” Hawke asked.

“I think so… I’ve had dreams, voices, telling me to bring them to this world, give them shape…” Feynriel was lost in his thoughts. “But the Dalish Keeper is wise! If anyone can help, she can.”

“I know the Keeper. I’ll make sure she takes you in,” Hawke declared. There was no way he was sending this boy in the Circle.

“Then…she does not hate humans? Oh, you don’t know what a relief that is. I knew she could help me! Thank the Creators you were the one my mother hired to help me. I will forever be in your debt, friend.”

“Come on,” Hawke said. “We’ll take you there.”

On the way to Sundermount, Feynriel would not stop asking Hawke questions. About his magic, how he was not in a Circle, what spells he liked to cast better, how to deal with the nightmares, how to resist the voices’ temptations. Hawke answered all of them. Feynriel then moved on to questions about the Dalish. His mother told him so much about them, but he never got to see them in real life. Exhausted, Hawke smiled and let Varric do the talking. Fenris joined Hawke moments later.

“Was it wise to let him go to the Dalish? What if he becomes an abomination?” Fenris sounded angry. “Mages should stay in Circles.”

“I fear for what would happen to him if he were to be in the Gallows,” Hawke answered, looking at the clouds.

“You will have to live with the consequences if something goes wrong,” Fenris warned.

“I think we can trust the Keeper. We already know she disapproves of blood magic. She will not encourage Feynriel down that path. She will watch out for him.”

“If you say so…”

Hawke finally caught a glimpse of the clan’s aravels, with their orange sails floating in the wind. Hawke glanced at Fenris, who seemed as impressed as Feynriel. The boy ran ahead of them, but Hawke quickly caught his sleeve.

“It would be better if I were to do the talking,” he said to Feynriel. They walked together until they found the Keeper. She eyed the boy, then looked to Hawke, frowning. “This boy’s mother is Arianni, one of your own. Her son is in need of help. I promise I would do anything to get him somewhere safe, and I could not accept that he was to be sent to the Circle.”

“What is your name, child?” the Keeper asked.

“Feynriel. My mother told me a lot about you,” he answered, smiling.

“I’m sure she did,” Marethari said. “I can take you with us. However, the others might not be so welcoming. You see, you may be half elf, but you still…”

The Keeper turned to leave, with Feynriel in tow. She gave Hawke a small nod, then went on with her explanations. Hawke made his way outside the camp, closely followed by Fenris, Varric and Anders. Finally, he would be able to return home and sleep. His leg would appreciate it. At the gates of the city, Fenris and Anders went in different directions with quick farewells. Fenris thanked Hawke for letting him come along. Hawke promised he would see him again soon.

Hawke and Varric walked to Lowtown together. It was well in the evening, and Hawke was exhausted. Varric tried to convince him to get some drinks, but he politely declined. Varric gave him a look, half-suspicion and half-worry.

“Keep me updated about that leg of yours,” he said before opening the door of the Hanged Man.

“Of course,” Hawke smiled. Varric returned it, but it did not quite reach his eyes. He knew something was up. Hawke started walking and Varric closed the door. When Hawke finally arrived home, he pressed a kiss on his mother’s head, then went to take a bath to wash the grime of the last few days away. He lifted his injured leg out of the water. Healing it seemed pointless. In any case, he did not feel like he deserved having it healed. He wanted to keep the memento of the scars circling his leg, just above his ankle. He leaned his head against the back of the tub and sighed. For one day, he would like not to have to be anyone. He wished he was still in Lothering.

#fenris #m!hawke #fenris x m!hawke #fenhawke #dragon age 2 #frederic hawke #my writing #sorry for the wait #well it's only the second chapter so i mean x) not a lot of people are waiting for it #anywayyyy

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captainderyn · 6 years

Note

“ i really need you to hug me right now. ”

This has been sitting in my ideas folder for literal months at this point and I’ve only just got the energy and headspace to write it.

Warnings: Hardcore angst, character death, spoilers for All That Remains in DA2 (if y’all have played through that quest you know why)

Briar Hawke/Anders

(“You’re mother didn’t show up for her weekly visit.”

That alone hadn’t been enough to put a chill into Briar’s bones, none of the Hawke family had been particularly fond of Gamlen since their rise into Hightown and surely her mother had simply run into a delay in the marketplace instead of suffering their weekly meeting. Or perhaps, Bethany and Briar hadn’t been fond of Gamlen. For some reason Mother still tolerated him.

So, she had crossed her arms, cocked her hip and had a sharp retort ready on her lips when Bodahn wandered into their conversation and dried her retort right in her mouth. “Maybe she’s simply with her suitor.”

That couldn’t be right, Leandra had no suitors. She hadn’t looked at another man sideways since father had passed, not any that Briar knew of. It wasn’t as though her mother would have snuck around like some teenager either, she was a grown woman with two grown daughters, she didn’t need to. She echoed the sentiment out loud, mirrored by Gamlen’s own. At least on that, they could agree.

“Well, those lilies arrived for her this morning.” Idle flowers, resting on the corner table in a simple vase, crisp white petals only just starting to wilt and brown at the edges from the ongoing heat of the hearth. Briar hadn’t even taken note on them when she had walked in.

No. No. That wouldn’t…

“The killer…” Though Briar’s voice had hardly been above a croaking breath, both Bodahn and Gamlen’s eyes snapped to her, her uncle’s voice cutting into her shock like a knife when the thought struck her. .

“What?”

Briar was already shaking her head, a tremor starting deep in her gut and working into her voice. “There’s a killer, he always sends his victims white lilies, he’s killed several women already.”

That wasn’t what was happening. Mother was fine, she had simply taken a different route, or run into a bit of a crowd at the market.

“Leandra is fine, that can’t be right.” Gamlen’s own uncertain words echoed her own thoughts, perhaps the last time they’d see eye to eye on anything. “She must have just taken a different path. I should go wait for her, laugh about all this fuss.”

Then he was gone and Briar was tearing into her room, all shaking hands, and wide eyes as she tied her sword and scabbard around her waist, abandoning her armor when her fingers wouldn’t work the clasps. She just needed proof, she just needed to see that this was all some laughable overreaction.

“Mistress Hawke!” Bodahn called even as she shouldered past and into the streets of Kirkwall’s Hightown, scanning the crowds and hoping that she’d see the face of her mother, smiling at her and her silly notion that she had ever been in danger.

She found no one.)

Her heart stopped when she found the blood, slicking Darktown’s dirty streets and staining the wooden stairs deep, rusty brown. “It leads somewhere, the blood leads somewhere.” She babbled uselessly, reeling even as her feet carried her forward and her eyes carried her down, down the swirling pattern of that blood peppering the streets.

“They’re here somewhere, they have mother. Mother!” She had been raising her voice now every few strides, there was never a response. No face that turned towards her was Leandra’s, and no one stepped forward to calm the terrified young woman screaming for her mother like a lost child.

(She had run from Hightown to Darktown, near tumbling down the steps that led from Kirkwall’s best to Kirkwall’s worst, and slammed into the door of his clinic before her fumbling hands had the chance to attempt the latch.

“Anders!” If she screamed loud enough maybe she could drown out the fear pumping her heart faster than her breathing could keep up and maybe she could drown out the thoughts of those pearly white flowers, taunting her on the corner side table, and the thought of the killer’s hands on her mother.

Her hands beat on the wood palms down, forehead against the splintered wood grain as she all but collapsed against it. “Anders!”

The mage barely had time to open the splintered door, hands on her shoulders as she tumbled forward before she the words rushed from her, tripping and scattering in all directions. Her hands locked on his arms and when she brought her eyes up she saw the crisp eyes of a healer assessing her as if he thought her to be injured. No…no this was far worse than any injury. He shouldn’t be worried about her, he should be worried about--

“Anders, they’ve taken mother. They’ve taken her and I don’t know where she is and they’ve left lilies and I don’t know where she is and she’s somewhere, but where–”)

“Mother!” The cry that had been building for what felt like hours ripped painfully free of her chest, her vision tunneling to the prone figure across a wooden board set up like a cot, seeing only the shock of white hair, the similar cut of the dresses that were so in fashion to her mother and the older ladies of Kirkwall. “Moth–” When her hand on the shoulder met no resistance, the body of a woman resembling but not being Leandra flopping over onto her back, eyes boring sightless into Briar’s, she shrieked again--a terrified wail born of fear and disgust.

Then, scribbled notes scattered around, notes in a rushed hand on preservation, textures of skin, eye colors, all building into one sick and twisted image that Briar barreled past. This wasn’t happening, the answer lining in up in front of her wasn’t true.

“Briar!” Anders’ hand snatched at her as her sprint stumbled into a halt, dust pooling around her as she fell to her knees. While his hands steadied her on her shoulders–neither he nor Varric, nor even Isabela, had been able to do anything to stop her frantic run through the streets of Kirkwall and had finally decided just to sprint after her–she dug into the dust, her hands pulled from the dust a broken and trampled on locket.

“I know this locket.” Letting her head fall back she stared hard at the ceiling, everything starting to spin around her as her word narrowed another inch. “it belongs to mother. It’s mother’s, why is mother’s locket down here?”

Their eyes drifted up among the scattered papers and notes, tables and torn books, to fix on a painting fixed above a gruesome mantle and Briar’s horror condensed into one whimpering moan. “I need to find Mother, I need to find her now.”

“I was wondering when you’d arrive.” Briar only saw the man at the other end of the room, staring at her with unfocused and serene eyes, swaying on his feet when they charged into their only possible option, all other tunnel’s dead ending. “Leandra was so sure you’d come for her.”

She hated the tremble in her voice, putting her back to being a child, crying after a horrible nightmare into her parent’s arms. “Where is she?”

“You will never understand…chosen because she was special..part of something greater..”

The words floated by her ears like water in a river, a shaking hand jabbing a finger at the man as her voice rose. “Where is my mother?”

“I have done the impossible.” Only then did Briar see the oaken chair behind him, the sound of shifting silk. “I have touched the face of the Maker and lived.”

Already she was taking a step back, the rank smell curling her nose, and already her friends were at her back, reaching for her but froze halfway, all eyes fixed just as her’s were. “I pieced her together from memory. Her eyes, her skin, her delicate fingers, I’ve found it all. And at last, I found her face, her beautiful face.”

The shifting silk stood, wavering on its feet like a doll on strings, toddling after the mage and facing them fully.

Only then, did Briar look into sightless blue eyes, pallored grey skin, and cry soundlessly, mouth gaping and lungs convulsing as they searched for air that she couldn’t remember how to get. Her heart worked into her throat, choking her, and her stomach plummeted into the ground at her feet, threatening to spill what little was left in her stomach.

She didn’t remember the mage falling, only turning and catching the staggering woman in her arms. “Mother!”. Without the man’s power, she sagged heavy, bringing Briar to her knees. The putrid scent of decay swirled around her, watering her eyes with far more than just revulsion and horror, even as she cradled her mother’s shoulders in her arms and laid her across her lap.

Just as Leandra had done with Carter, broken and laid across the stones by the Ogre. Just as Briar had done with Bethany, shuddering from the Taint as they waited for the Grey Wardens in the Deep Roads.

“That man’s magic was the only thing keeping her alive. Briar…I’m…” Anders’ voice faded into white noise as her mother lifted a trembling hand towards Briar’s cheek, only for it to fall limply back to her chest.

“I knew you would come.”

“Mother, don’t move.” Briar’s voice wavered, pleading and demanding all in the same breath. “I’m going to get you help, I’m going to…”

She fell silent at her mother’s hush, tears gathering on her lashes and falling in streams down her cheeks.

“Don’t fret darling, that man would have kept me trapped. Now I am free. I can see Carver, and you’re father again.” Each breath rattled and rasped in her throat, continuing on even as Briar shook her head on every syllable. No, she didn’t want to be alone. She couldn’t be alone. “But you’ll be here alone..”

“I failed you, mother. I came too late. I should’ve found you sooner, been stronger..I’m sorry.” Sobbing, Briar’s revulsion did not rear it’s head when Leandra’s cold, bloated hand found her arm.

“My little girl, you’ve done your best, you’ve been so strong and I love you. You’ve made me so proud.” With her last exhalation, as though exhausted by her words, Leandra went limp, clouded eyes finding the ceiling in an unseeing gaze.

As though all her strings were cut too, Briar bowed over her mother’s body, shaking until it became unbearable and an anguished scream ripped from her raw throat. A second and a third, more agonized wails delving into panicked cries for her mother; the scent of death surrounding and suffocating her until someone’s arms went around her, pulling her up and away. Twisting to the side, she retched, body spasming against the revulsion that built and built and built alongside the grief.

Someone’s hands on her shoulder, another brushing her hair back from her face until pulling her up to her feet. Unable to support herself, unable to find who, she just buried her head against their shoulders and shook.

Someone deposited her at their–her, now, she’s the sole member of her family with a claim to the walls and floors around her–estate, settling her in a chair with some mumbled promise that they’ll be back. She nodded lifelessly and stared into the flames, watching them dance back and forth.

“Did you find her?”

He didn’t even bother to knock, didn’t bother to announce himself. Instead, her uncle barged into the room, trampling down the stairs, with little regard to his sister’s daughter slowly crumbling to pieces on an old family chair.

Just as her look was vacant, Briar’s voice was hollow. “She’s gone. I’m sorry, Uncle.”

She braced herself for the vitriolic response, the shouting and maybe him stamping over to her so that she’ll look him in the eyes and repeat it. She doesn’t expect him to wither on the spot, shoulders slumping in her peripheral. “You were right then, about the flowers. I…she’s gone? Why her? Why Leandra?”

Hanging her head, pressing her palms against her forehead, Briar heaved a breath and whispered. “I was too late.”

That’s all the iron Gamlen needed pumped into his bones, enough to stiffen his spine and raise his voice until he was practically screaming acid at her. “So you’re to blame! If you had been stronger, quicker…you could’ve..she could be…”

“I know that!” Briar pushed herself from the chair, stumbling to face Gamlen and clinging white-knuckled to the cushioned back of the chair. Her voice cracked even as she shouted right back, though the acid in her own voice poured back onto her. “I know I should’ve been better, I had to be better and I failed her! It’s my fault and I don’t need you to tell me that!”

The tension went out of her shoulders and she slumped over the back of the chair, her wrists straining to support her crunched over position. Tears dripped down her nose again and Maker, she felt as though her head was going to burst with the pressure of it all. Voice broken, when Gamlen offered no opposition to her claiming the blame, she said softly; “The killer used Mother to magically recreate his dead wife…had I been earlier..”

“You’re brother, you’re sister, you’re mother…” Gamlen spat at her, disgust seeping from his every word, though he did not finish the thought. “I never should have asked, I wish you hadn’t told me what that twisted son of a bitch did to her.”

“If it’s any consolation, Gamlen, the killer is dead.” Lifting her eyes, twisted with pain even in the firelight, Briar fixed her uncle in a cold stare. “Now please, leave. I will handle writing to Bethany..she deserves to know.”

By the time Anders cautiously padded to the threshold of her quarters, pausing in the doorframe; she was sitting on the edge of her bed, the skin of her arms rubbed raw from her scrubbing with a cloth now homed in a pink-watered basin in the corner and in a new tunic. The one she had so foolishly run from the estate in only hours previous simmered and crackled in the heart, the flames eating at the blood-stained fabric scented with death slowly.

“I know nothing that I say will change it…” Anders started slowly, his voice–low and soothing to hear in the silence that had surrounded her since Gamlen’s whirlwind departure–catching her attention. Though she did not take her eyes from the low burning hearth her cheek turned slightly to him, hair cascading like a wall between her face and his. “But for what it’s worth, I’m so sorry.”

In her lack of response, Anders crossed the distance between them and perched on the bed beside her, not enough for them to touch, not without her say so, but close enough that she could feel his presence. It was…comforting. “You were lucky to have her as long as you did. When the pain fades that’s what will matter.”

“I failed her. I woulf still have her if I didn’t…if I had..” Briar shook her head, tucking her hair behind her ear and then letting her hand bridge across her eyes.

“She wouldn’t want you to blame yourself, she didn’t blame you–” He began, before breaking it off with a weary sigh. “Though that does not make it easier. But, I’m here for you,” and he moved ever so slightly closer, just so that their shoulders touched. “whatever you need.”

Tired beyond measure, exhaustion clambering deep into her bones, Briar let her head list to rest on Anders’ shoulder. “I just..I just really need you to hug me.”

Then, Anders wrapped her in his arms, in his warmth, and Briar tucked herself next to him. Curling her knees up in the space between them and her head against his chest, she breathed out and tried to forget the empty estate around her.

#I answer things!#dragon age 2 #DA2 #femhawke #femhawke/anders #oc: Briar Hawke #otp: Until Dawn Comes #oh look I have time to write again and this is what I do with it #my HEART #my SOUL #all are DEAD from this shit that happens to my poor girl #rewatching this scene to write from was almost as horrifying as my first time playing through it #legit chills #I hate this quest #but I needed to write this #at least 5 months later and its written #..yay?

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jawsandbones · 6 years

Text

Threnodies for Leto, Songs for Fenris - Part 1/3

Fandom: Dragon Age

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Fenris x F!Hawke

AO3 Link: Click Here

He learns to say no. He whispers it to himself in the dead of night, up at faintly blinking stars. He practices. He takes pleasure in it – the sound of it on his tongue, the way it feels in his mouth. The ability to speak his mind. To have choice. No. At first he fears the use of it. He has been taught how to bite his tongue too well. Fenris knows what comes with hesitation, denial. It begins with the dark frown, the biting word and ends in the lash, in punishment. Hawke asks if he would like to come with them on a day he had planned for other things. “No, I – I would rather not,” he says as he braces himself. Stiffens the line of his back, the square of his shoulders, prepares for the reprimand. She only smiles, leans against the doorframe, crosses her arms.

“That’s alright. I’ll bring you back something,” she tells him. He still feels it even after she leaves. Leaning against his closed door, hands in fists against the wood. The heavy beating of a nervous heart, the faint rush of adrenalin that pumps through every vein. He smiles, laughs to himself, presses a hand against his forehead. It is that first ‘no’ which gives him the allowance of more. He tells Varric that no, he does not want to try the Hanged Man’s mystery soup. The dwarf shrugs, chews on some unidentifiable grey meat. Merrill asks him to pick mushrooms with her and he tells her no, and she goes to ask Anders. He steps back when Isabela holds out a fish for him to hold, a very flat no, and she throws it at the back of Hawke’s head.

He learns acceptance. The right of rage, permission of grief. Fenris mourns the life he never knew, bitter to the one he has left behind, learns to take joy in the one he is creating. Hawke is a welcome figure on his doorstep, and he finds he likes the sound of her voice. They speak of anything that comes to mind, Hawke an attentive listener to anything he has to say. Some nights it is no more than comfortable silence, shared space, and a few times Hawke falls asleep in the chair. They find which bakery he likes best, learns that apple pastries are his favorite. She brings him a bottle of Ferelden ale. They drink it together, and it’s Hawke who smashes this bottle against the wall.

Isabela teaches him how to skip stones. She laughs as he growls frustration at the third one that simply sinks. She cheers when the sixth finally goes, three pathetic hops, but more than good enough. Anders and Varric double over in laughter together as he wakes to find Merrill has braided daisies into his hair. He spars with Aveline, helps her bridge the opening she leaves on her right. She gives him a small bag of cookies in thanks and a “please don’t tell Isabela I bake.” Times spent at the Hanged Man with everyone else, and they shout over the table, slap down coin and card. He watches them argue and laugh, smiles to himself.

He reacquaints himself with loneliness. Kirkwall seems harsher now that Hawke has gone to the Deep Roads, a little quieter, somewhat cold. A sudden realization of what her presence means. Fenris misses her most on the nights alone with himself, mind moving in torturous circles. Speaking with the others is never quite the same, they don’t listen the way she does. Her presence in his mansion has always been welcome, while others feel intrusive, a churning in his gut. She had leaned forward and smiled, put her hand over his. “Go see the others while I’m gone,” she had said, “you can’t stay cooped up in here all the time.” He does his best to honor this promise.

Merrill has found herself managing the clinic in Darktown, fielding questions of where Anders had gone. He brings her the supplies she has in her house, buys more with his own coin when she runs out. Fenris walks the late patrols with Aveline, knowing she takes the more dangerous routes. She tells him he doesn’t have to. She thanks him anyway. She tells him how proud she is of the guards in training, gives glowing admiration of the others. One in particular. He tells himself he must find a way to meet this Donnic. He helps defend Isabela from those who call her a cheat, and from behind the safety of his sword, she proudly admits it. He pulls her arm over his shoulders, walks her to her room, and puts a bucket beside her bed.

Fenris lies in his own bed, looking through the cracks in his roof. He likes it best when it rains, falling into the buckets he carefully places. The sound of drops against tin, the fluttering moonlight that cascades into the room. He knows that Hawke is sleeping under a different sky, one of rock and stone, in a place she’d rather not be. “I’m frightened of being underground,” she had confessed, “all of that above my head… just makes me uneasy.” He lies awake and wonders if Hawke is wondering about him. Rolling over to bury his face in his pillow, shame in wanting one of his only friends. A desire that had lain dormant, feelings he didn’t know he could have. He dreams of her laughter, of blue eyes and freckles, and brushing hair behind her ear.

Bartrand returns, but she does not. His stomach rolls, knots, churns in worry. He wears a path into already worn floorboards, unable to stop pacing. He resolves to find the dwarf, ask him where Hawke is. Aveline finds him first. Asking to speak with him, sitting in the chair. Long moments spent in silence before she leans forward, elbows on her knees. “I spoke to Bartrand,” Aveline says, “They got separated. A cave-in.” Her hands tight together, fingers digging into flesh, knuckles white with the effort. “He doesn’t think they survived.” That pit falls, and Fenris sinks into the opposite chair. Hands grip the armrest, staring pointedly at the fire. Long enough until his eyes burn, blink back pain, shaking his head.

“No,” he rasps. “I will question him myself.”

“Fenris,” she says his name quietly, a warning in the syllables.

He plans to leave Kirkwall. He will book passage on a ship south, leave the Free Marches entirely. Hawke had asked him once, if he might stay. Those early conversations, getting to know one another. “Perhaps you’ll find a reason to stay,” she had said with a smile. He had taken her kindness with a measure of suspicion, hard to trust, unwilling to settle. She had slowly carved a place for herself in him, settling in locked spaces, dusty corners. He’s stayed too long. There’s nothing left keeping him in the city anymore. On the third day of the second week, he packs a bag. He takes all the things Hawke has given him, the only mementos he cares to keep. In his hands, a red scarf, soft against his skin. On the fourth day, there’s a knock at his door.

There are dark circles under her eyes, as though she hasn’t slept in days. She is thinner, her hair longer, but her eyes still burn brightly blue. She stretches out her arms, steps through the doorway as she wraps them around him. Burying her face against his chest, holding him tightly. Fenris still hasn’t recovered from the shock of it, slowly lets his hands settle on Hawke’s back. “Bartrand trapped us down there. Carver caught the blight. He’s gone with the Grey Wardens and I,” her hands fist in his tunic, tremble and shake, “I missed you. This. I cried when we saw grass, can you believe it?” He can. He holds her a little tighter.

He learns how to ask. Slipping into old habits, sitting by the fire as she speaks. Listening quietly as her hands move wildly to convey every detail, from sitting hunched to sitting straight, expressions rowdy and vivid as she recounts all that happened while she was gone. They talk for hours until their voices are hoarse and the drinks are emptied, food eaten. Hawke rubs her eyes as she leans back, stifles the yawn. “Would you like to stay?” He asks, playing with the loose thread at the end of his leggings. She smiles, reaches out, touches his knee.

“I don’t want to throw you out of your own bed,” she says. Fenris shakes his head, finds the courage to rest his hand over hers.

“It’s no trouble,” he tells her. They stay there quietly, as his thumb traces over her knuckles. There’s a new scar on the back of her hand, just there, right by her pinky finger. The way she touches has always felt natural. A brush across the shoulders, hand on his arm, at his back. It’s never come easily to him. Even now he feels stiff, awkward, nervous, but still his hand remains. They both look over as a log in the fireplace cracks, breaks, warm light on their cheeks.

“Then I’ll take you up on your offer,” she says, and that smile still remains, so light on her lips. She settles into his bed, lying on her side, watching him as he tucks himself into the chair. “Fenris.” She stretches out her hand towards him. “There’s no reason we can’t share.” He can think of at least ten. Still, he finds himself walking towards her, tips of his fingers brushing against hers. He lies with his back towards her, staring at the wall. The fire burns, dies, and he stiffens when he feels her turning. Her face against his back, an arm slipping around him. Murmuring in dreaming, curling up against him. How warm it is to be held by someone. He indulges himself, lets his hand link with hers. Finger against finger, and palm against palm.

Hawke shows him first. An estate in ruin, a home she means to repair. The others help as well. Merrill worries on the ladder, cleaning the very top of the windows. Aveline is adept at repairing broken walls, cracked bannisters. Those Hawke has hired are also underfoot, but there’s only the cheerful laughter when it’s just the group of them. Isabela paints her name in a flourish before painting in earnest, while Varric buys Hawke a fine desk to sit in the front. A gold tipped quill, expensive ink. Anders has a scarf wrapped around his face as he dusts out the cobwebs, carries the spiders to the garden. There Fenris and their newest addition, Sebastian, work together. Hacking at weeds, planting new flowers.

There are days he gets lost in the labor. Leaning over in the dirt, gloves on his hands and sun beating on his back. Sweat on his brow, dripping at his temples, and he tears at stubborn root, embedded rock. His mind drifts, turns towards a different sun that used to beat upon his back. A labor that wasn’t like this, a work not the same. That was because they told him, this is because she asked and he – bats away the sudden touch, slaps away her hand. Stumbling back into the grass, and he is ready with the apology but Hawke pretends as if it didn’t happen at all.

“Did you want some water?” she asks. His hands clench into fists as his shoulders move with heavy breath, trying to steady himself in the present.

“I – yes. That would be appreciated,” he says. She extends her hands towards him once again, helps him to his feet. He follows her meekly to the kitchen, casts his gaze to the floor. She shifts, tilts, intercepts his vision until he can look naught but at her. When he finally meets her gaze, she smiles, passes him the glass.

“I’m sorry for startling you,” she says, “I should have said something first.” The condensation rolls down the glass, cold against his skin. He watches her as she walks, that easy swing of her arm over Isabela’s shoulders. The women sway and laugh together, and he wants it to be that easy for him. He longs to touch, when he’s shunned all touch before. Unwanted hands under his skin, wrapping around bone and muscle, claiming him for them. Now he wants to reach out, he wants to ask.

In the quiet when all others leave, they sit together in front of Hawke’s fireplace. The Amell sigil sits proudly above it, while the Hawke sigil rests above the door. She sits cross-legged, an elbow on her knee, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. While she is watching it burn, Fenris is watching her, the way the light flickers on her face. They pass the bottle of wine back and forth, a sort of sharing that comes naturally to them now. “I have an estate,” she says.

“Yes you do,” he says. Hawke smiles proudly, sits a little straighter, brushes hair behind her ear. It reveals the smudge of dirt on her cheek. He’s moving before he even realizes it, his thumb at the mark, brushing it away. Her face turns towards his. The dirt is gone and yet his hand remains, fingers curling at her cheek. All other sounds seem to slip away, and he can only hear the soft sound of her breathing. The way she shifts closer.

“May I kiss you?” Fenris asks it hoarsely, as though he hasn’t spoken in years, or at least never with meaning such as this. Her nod is instant, her answer voiceless. A palm pressing against stone as she leans towards him and he thinks he might count all the freckles, her stars. The brush of her nose against his. The feel of her breath on his lips. The warmth of simply being near her. Taking her face in his hands, eyes closing. She wets her lips just before, and his are maybe a little chapped, but still they fit together. He pulls her closer until she is sitting in his lap, his hands travelling the length of her back. Arms around his neck, fingers threading through his hair.

“You seem to be in good spirits,” Sebastian smiles as he takes the box from Fenris, stacking it with the others in the Chantry basement. Fenris grumbles and Sebastian chuckles. “Things are going well with Hawke?” Fenris blinks, startled.

“With Hawke, I –”

“A blind man could see how you feel for her,” Sebastian tells him.

He walks with Aveline on Wednesdays. Down the twisting paths of Lowtowns, in the back alleys she does not want to send her guard. Most of it is spent in silence, some of it with Aveline asking him to train some of her guard. “There are many in this city who look up to you,” she tells him, but he finds it hard to believe. Especially difficult on the nights Fenris twists in his bed, casts the blankets to the floor. Feet hard against stone as he paces, hands pressed against his head. A voice that does not want to leave him, commands that haunt his dreams.

Fenris holds a ladder for Isabela as she climbs up to Merrill’s roof, smashes through cracked tiles with the hammer. They yell at each other, Merrill in concern and worry, Isabela wondering how anyone could live like this. Hawke wanders into the alienage in the afternoon, passes Fenris her half-eaten sandwich as she clambers up after them. “Are you sure you don’t need my help?” Fenris calls upwards to them. Isabela’s face appears over the edge, hair hanging down.

“Don’t you dare let go of that ladder!” She tells him. Merrill frets beside him, biting at her fingernails, waiting for them to finish. They reappear when the sun begins to set, covered in dirt and web, cuts on their hands, and more hammers than they went up with. They sit at Merrill’s small table, eat whatever she offers. Merrill seems more than happy to have them all there, pleased pink on her cheeks, squished between Isabela and Hawke.

Fenris smiles as he reaches across the table, sweeps up the hard won coin. Anders glowers at his cards before reaching for the rest, shuffling them together in an angry huff. Varric leans back in the chair, accepts graceful defeat. “You are a menace, elf. One of these days I’ll figure out your tell,” he says. Perhaps it the way his ears perk up when he sees Hawke walk into the Hanged Man, or the way he sits up a little straighter when she sits next to him. Anders is dealing the cards neatly, and Fenris keeps his close to his chest, away from Hawke’s prying eyes.

“I think he’s cheating,” Anders says, “he’s been spending too much time with Isabela.” Hawke has her elbows planted on the table, holding her face in her hands.

“Or he’s just better than you at the game,” she says. Anders rolls his eyes, feigns hurt as Varric laughs. While Anders and Varric stay late, Hawke and Fenris walk home together. They detour into Darktown, so that Fenris can fill the clinic’s donation box with the coin he won from Anders and then some. Knuckles brush against knuckles, finger against finger, and Hawke smiles under star and shafts of moonlight that streams through the cracks between buildings.

Sand underneath his feet. Salt on the wind, the hint of the sea. Long grass that sways in the breeze, under cracked cliff and wounded coast. Signs he thought he would be able to forget come rushing back. He knows this trap. Stopping and the others stop too, look over their shoulders at him. “Hunters,” Fenris says.

“You are in possession of stolen property,” says the one who dares step forward. “Back away from the slave!” It isn’t rage. It isn’t denial. All the things he thought he might feel when they finally found him, and it isn’t that. The first is fear. Fenris expects to see Danarius to step forward next. Little wolf. Kill them. He fears he will listen. Master coming to collect and he, and he –

“Fenris is a free man,” Hawke shouts as she steps in front of him, puts her hand on his chest. Aveline raises her shield beside him, and Sebastian has the arrow notched. He’s forgotten something he learned, something he taught himself. He forgot who he was, but just for a moment.

“I am not a slave!” Hawke reaches upward with fist and magic, pulls down their attackers. Fenris sprints forward, ready to face them head on. The steady sounds of Sebastian’s arrows, burying themselves into the soft spots between armor. Hawke’s magic is the warm hand at the back of his nape, a watching presence that’s a comfort and not a prison. Aveline at his side, facing faceless attackers. Cowards hidden behind metal, the flash of a sword and the Tevinter crest.

It builds with each step towards the caves. He has tried to forget it, to leave it aside. Haunting him for far too long, an anger he cannot shake. Bitter to all they robbed him of, fury to what they put inside him. An outrage that has been growing, pulled forward through the years he thought he might be free. Fenris wants to be better. More than what they made him, past all they gave him. Hadriana trembles below him and a different man might have let her go. He kills her in thinking it might kill the despair, only makes it worse. Pushing away her touch and “what has magic touched that it hasn’t spoiled?” He regrets each word, calls himself a coward as he runs.

He did not face Danarius when he could have. Standing side by side with the Fog Warriors who called him friend, the taste of what life could be still fresh on his tongue. He cannot face Hawke when he should have, told her that it is not her magic he fears. That it is Fenris who is the ruin, and that she deserves better. Instead he runs, and she lets him go. Those first days all over again. He paces through the mansion, afraid the hunters are waiting in each dark corner. He cannot stay. Wandering the city until he finds himself on her doorstep.

He can hear her running down the stairs at the sound of his arrival, breathless in clothing casual, tucking hair behind her ears. She opens her mouth to speak, but closing it again as he walks towards her. Looking at the floor, her bare feet against stone, struggles to raise his gaze. “I was… not myself.” Not the man he wants to be. “I’m sorry.” Finally able to look upwards, expects the anger he knows he deserves. He doesn’t find it.

“I had no idea where you went, I was concerned,” she says softly. She crosses her arms, as though stopping herself from reaching out and touching him. He appreciates the gesture. His skin has been fire since he felt Hadriana’s heart in his hands, markings raw and sensitive, and a vulnerability he’s still trying to fix. He struggles with the explanation of it, only knowing that he wants her to know. Hadriana’s claws still at his back, Danarius’s teeth at his neck. Paltry. Lacking. He leaves in frustration, he leaves her in worry.

He decides to tell her. His regret, a shame, one action among many he wishes he could take back. Fenris goes to the wine cellar, takes the last bottle from the shelf. He knows its name, the shape of the label, the style of the cork. He knows it from it being pointed out to him. As he holds the bottle in his hand, his thumb traces over letters he cannot understand. “Today is the anniversary of my escape,” he tells her as he holds it out to her. She takes it instantly, pulls her chair forward. “Would you like to hear the story?”

“I enjoy listening to you talk,” she says. He leans forward, touches his forehead against hers.

“There are few pleasures greater than speaking with a beautiful woman.” Warm with wine, feeling bold, letting himself let go. Speaking the words makes them real, the truth of what he’d done. Killing those who had taken him in, who believed he deserved his freedom. He took too long to believe it as well. Ghost of shackles around his wrists, the collar around his neck. It chokes him on the days he least expects. He feels them even now, tight and cold, but Hawke reaches out, brushes her thumb against his cheek.

“Thank you for telling me,” she says softly, “I know it can’t be easy to speak about.” He misses her touch as she pulls her hand back, folding her hands in her lap. She knows and yet she doesn’t hate him, doesn’t rage at him for what he’s done. She lays acceptance at his feet, dares for him to take it. He stands on the precipice but cannot fall. Reaching for the bottle, wine rich on his tongue. A taste he was never allowed, a privilege never given, but he has taken it for himself.

“I… have never allowed anyone too close.” How many times had they been sent to his bed to tempt him? A touch was betrayal, affections were punishment. Difficult to shake such a thing. Setting the bottle on the table, hands in fists on his knees. He’s still getting used to it. The closeness. The permission to find solace in another person. The realization that Hawke is no pawn, no trap set to close around his bones. There is no rope. No chain. Naught for the one he extends to her of his own will.

He seeks her out three days later. “Command me to go and I shall.” Hands on his cheeks, her face so close to his.

“No need.”

#fenris #hawke #fenhawke #dragon age #fenris x hawke #fenris x f!hawke #f!fenhawke #f!hawris #f!hawke #fenris x femhawke #dragon age 2 #da2 #writing #mine

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dustydreamsanddirtyscars · 7 years

Note

i follow a lot of meta writers who say dean's story doesn't make sense without destiel. for example, amara was about exposing how dean felt about cas; the heart stuff how she found dean by touching cas' heart follow your heart all that. i ship destiel but don't think it will be endgame (wish it would be honestly). can i ask what do you think dean's story is without a destiel exposition? Do the amara and MoC and Mary story lines make sense without it? What is Dean's personal story and endgame?

Dear anon,

first and foremost what I want to emphasize going into this reply is that people can take away whatever they want from the show and read it in a way that suits their viewing of what happens on screen. All of what we see in those 45 minutes of television is influenced and shaped by our own experiences and interests, by the things that speak to us and move us or the aspects and topics we deem important. For that very reason readings and views will always differ simply because we all have our own focus. Things that stand out to one person, aren’t important for another for the sole reason that we tend to latch onto and project what moves us most into the narrative and analyze what plays out in the episode accordingly. What I mean is: it’s natural to disagree, there isn’t such a thing as ONE and ONLY ONE RIGHT reading. And there is nothing shameful or wrong about disagreeing with someone else, it’s all about how one expresses those differences of opinion. No one is better or worse or stupid for not seeing what someone else may see that doesn’t fit to your personal impression and perception of the show. In short: Live and let live.

The reason I am prefacing my reply with this long, more general ramble is due to the fact that I feel the fighting within the fandom over “right ways of reading and watching the show” or “people being too stupid to realize the show is saying this and this and not that and that” has gotten to a ridiculous and toxic point in which tolerance is lacking all around and on all sides and is seriously tiring to me, because it is just mind baffling to me why people can’t just be happy with what they read and see in the show and share it with the ones who see it similarly, but have to force their views on everybody else and get nasty over people having another view and takeaway than them and throwing around insults like there is no tomorrow.

With that all out of the way, let me tell you my view on Dean’s story. And just to make that clear from the get go :) no, I don’t think Dean’s story only makes sense when taking Deancas into account. It’s alright for me, if people argue that and feel that way, but to me it’s simply not the case and also imo takes away from Dean as a character in his own right.

I enjoy(ed) Deancas and like interactions between Dean and Castiel (though tbh since S11 to me a lot has changed and I no longer feel passionate or strongly about them, because to me the writers and how they handle the relationship atm is just too hollow and soulless for my taste, it simply no longer has the depth and “spark” for lack of a better word that it used to have in seasons prior, which still speak to me and move me when it comes to these two characters), but I do truly take issues with people arguing that Dean or his story only makes sense in relation to Castiel. I have the same issues with people arguing that Dean’s story and Dean only makes sense in relation to Sam. Of course both people are relevant to Dean’s story, but to me another person/characters should never be the most important thing about another character. So yeah, both of these viewings are the same to me in their essence, because in both cases it discredits Dean as a character in his own right in measures and ways I personally find very sad, because it belittles Dean. And Dean is much more than the people he loves (and this actually one aspect that is actually part of the show for Dean to realize) and that is kind of one of the main things that I personally feel relevant for Dean’s arc and possible endgame: seeing himself as worthy and important unrelated to any other person/character.

[[This week’s episode imo has highlighted a great deal how I personally see Dean’s story spanning from the first season onwards and what his struggles were and are that need to be overcome for him to be happy (if you browse my 13x03gif tag you’ll find all the meta I already wrote on the topic).]]

It may be for the very reason that Dean always puts others first and worries about them that people tend to see Dean only as an extension to another character. To me personally therefore one of the main things that has been explored heavily all throughout Carver Era and with that the Moc and Amara arc is addressing how “unfree” Dean has been all his life and how he has never truly listened or maybe even truly found out what he himself wants and is without the people he “cares for” (that is btw one huge point that was made in this week’s episode when Kelly told Jack that he didn’t have to be like his mother or father, but just himself and how this drastically differs to Dean who has been both unwanted - see meta and gifs for that here), because that very aspect - Dean thinking he needs to be this or that (mother, father and brother from age 4 onwards - as he himself openly now emphasized wasn’t fair) - has become Dean’s entire “reason for existence”. He thinks of himself as only useful when he can be of service and that is one tragic and horrible way not only of thinking about yourself (as unworthy, etc.), but also to live, because as the show has highlighted again and again when Dean feels like he cannot be of help, he thinks he lacks a reason to live and slips even further into a depression that is always glowering there just underneath the surface.

Due to all of what I mentioned just yet, I personally find it highly unfortunate that some people tend to make Dean all about Sam or Cas, because it falls completely in the trap that causes Dean so many issues since he himself only views himself as an extension to someone else, but that by no means means that that is right - quite the opposite. And that is also one of the many issues I have with Dabb’s showrunning and S12 in particular as in seasons prior the narrative addressed the discrepancy of Dean feeling like he matters least, etc. but that the characters around him constantly showed that that is not the case, but only something happening inside Dean’s head. Now S12 blatantly made it text that Dean does indeed not matter himself and I will never not be absolutely disgusted about that, because throughout the entire season we saw Dean put down, his emotions ignored, lied to (really, the way the season started, Mary trampling all over her son, is so emblematic of what happened throughout the entire season as well) and none of the treatment he experienced got corrected in the end, but Dabb friggin decided that it is a stellar idea to have Dean only briefly express how his mother’s death shaped him and messed him up (and yes, I get that it is in line with who Dean is and how he thinks so little of himself and putsothers traumas and needs first while ignoring his own, because they seem less important - see how that narrative thread runs through the whole show?) but that ultimately Dean as a person once more would disappear by making it all about Sam and talking about how Sam suffered (never mind Dean did and does too) and it also only then that his friggin mother is showing any kind of interest in her son. Only when her one son talks about the other son. Yeah, nice work there. But really, what took the cake for me with all that was how Mary didn’t even wrap Dean into a hug when he fucking saved her, but she opts to fall into Sam’s arms. Sorry, but gahhhh, I’ll never not be epicly pissed off about this.

Considering all this I am not surprised when people tend to think Dean has no story of his own or that it doesn’t make sense without Deancas or Sam on the other hand, but to me as someone who is most interested in each character in their own right much more than in any possible pairing, it is frustrating, because you feel like you are an island and belong nowhere. But sorry, I got caught up in my disliking of S12, I’m trying to get back on track now.

So given all that and the whole aspect of Dean’s “lack of freedom” due to feelings of responsibility are a huge aspect that to me was integral in the entirety of the MoC arc and the Amara arc as to me it explored Dean’s feelings of inadequacy and showing and exploring how Dean may have always been the main symbol for “free will”, but rarely has had it himself. In that regard, and I know this may be an utterly unpopular opinion to many, I have always analyzed Dean’s MoC arc and his time as a demon as a sort of “rite of passage” that served as a setting stone for Dean’s liberation, because it was as a demon that for the first time Dean only did what he himself wanted. It’s of course just one small aspect of a much more complex overall storyline, but to me it is an integral part nonetheless. Dean wasn’t happy as a demon by a long shot, but he did only what he wanted without feeling bad about having wishes of his own.

During the MoC and Amara arc Dean’s lack of independency from the people closest to him was amplified by making Dean unable to control what happened within himself when he held the blade or was in Amara’s closer vicinity. He was other directed, a puppet that got its strings pulled and that thread has been an integral one for Dean since we saw him strung up in Hell and torn apart (literally) by ropes tearing him apart every which way. To me there couldn’t be a more fitting and sadder visual for how Dean spent his entire life: caught in the middle, trying to keep a family together that drifted apart and getting torn apart and ending up hurt and damaged by trying to keep all of it together.

So in a way Dean losing his agency to the mark and then later Amara was just the utter extreme of showing how Dean for most of his life has not lived and done what he himself wanted, but what others needed him to do. The theme is right there, right from the beginning of the show and culminates for the first time in S4 and S5 when Dean rejects to become and be what Heaven wants him to be. The same strength he showed in relation to Michael, he never was able to show when it came to things his father demanded of him for example. There is a a famous scene where Dean articulates that himself in “Sacrecrow” in S1

and it comes back up here and there across the seasons when Dean expresses that he wished he would have stood up against their father more, etc. - the entire episode 9x06 “Bad Boys” also shines a huge light on that whole topic as we get a glimpse of the Dean there, who was allowed to be just a teen without feeling burdened and responsible to join his father’s fight.

For me Dean’s entire arc spanning over the course of the show is a storyline about self discovery about coming of age and coming into his own (an no with that I don’t mean a “coming out”-story, though of course it could be worked in or rather go hand in hand with that, but Dean’s sexual liberation to me has never been an integral topic from the beginning of the show and explored deeply until now, whereas the other has - again everyone is open to disagree with me, I have no problems with anyone reading it different, but this is just my personal feeling on the matter). It’s a narrative focusing on identity for someone who has never truly had the chance to become who he would have been if he had never had to be what others needed him to be. Phew… that was a weird sentence, lol. Anybody else got a knot in their brain now? ;)

And last but not least (though frankly I could write like 10 times as much as I already did since this is such a complex question) since you bring up the heart symbolism. I don’t mean to piss anyone off, but the heart symbolism as such has been surrounding Dean long before Castiel even came into the show (and it’s one of my favorite topics aside from “Dean as a christ figure” and I’ve written countless meta on that topic - I’m gonna leave a bunch of links to metas behind the cut at the end of this meta, for anyone who is interested in talk about heart symbolism, liberation, Amara and MoC arc etc. - some may even feature Deancas, but 95% are just about Dean - it is by no means all I have written on the topic, but a good start), so to me - while I have no problem with people connect the heart symbolism in recents seasons to Castiel and Dean - they aren’t connected to another character at all, but are solely a symbol and metaphor for Dean as a character, because Dean’s heart has always been his biggest asset, but also what makes him so vulnerable. Dean is the “heart” of the show, as he serves as the PoV character. But most of all the heart symbolism surrounding Dean to me also belongs to the whole identity thread. It is also after all that Dean’s metaphorical death and re-emergence as a demon as a stepping stone to his liberation and coming of age (the healing part is still hopefully to come) is brought on by him dying by being stabbed through the heart…

http://dustydreamsanddirtyscars.tumblr.com/post/121901277911/this-is-easier-some-more-thoughts-on-the

http://dustydreamsanddirtyscars.tumblr.com/post/69379178845/dean-winchesters-heart-is-a-puzzle

http://dustydreamsanddirtyscars.tumblr.com/post/131476588721/11x02-form-and-void-shes-a-miracle

http://dustydreamsanddirtyscars.tumblr.com/post/98552189146/this-is-a-story-a-marvelous-story-full-of-love

http://dustydreamsanddirtyscars.tumblr.com/post/87629591461/go-right-ahead-put-a-blade-through-your

http://dustydreamsanddirtyscars.tumblr.com/post/67585667715/of-werevolves-tin-men-dean-winchester-and-his

http://dustydreamsanddirtyscars.tumblr.com/post/110615479616/dustydreamsanddirtyscarsdeans-physical-and

http://dustydreamsanddirtyscars.tumblr.com/post/66175602035/things-about-9x05-dog-dean-afternoon-3

http://dustydreamsanddirtyscars.tumblr.com/post/127498203661/the-original-serpent-3

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ladydarksbane · 6 years

Text

Chapter 2 of Fate or Chance

Indenture

They traveled south, blighted ground stretching as far as the eye could see. The witch generally flew overhead in some form or other. Sometimes a dragon. Sometimes a bird. She was always in view. They encountered small pockets of darkspawn, stragglers from the horde. Nothing the four of them couldn’t handle on their own since the witch seemed disinclined to lend further assistance.

They traversed the Southron Hills to the Brecilian Passage, traveling it south past Ironbrook and Stonewar. Neither settlements had been touched by the Blight or the horde, but were eager for news of Lothering’s destruction, fearful it could happen to them. The small party didn’t stay in either town long, only to resupply. Both had a Chantry and the presence of Templars. Elias and Bethany remained out of sight while Aveline and Carver took care of the shopping.

Three weeks after the Ogre attack beyond the ruins of Lothering they finally had Gwaren in sight. The town was large, despite the fact it could only be accessed by sea or by the route they had just traveled. This was the first city liberated from the Orlesians during the rebellion and home to Loghain Mac Tir, though he spent more time in Denerim. Its port bustled with activity. Elias worried they’d come all this way for nothing.

But as it turned out all his worries that were for nothing. Gaining passage on a ship turned out not to be as hard as Elias expected. There were several leaving, headed towards Denerim or the Free Marches. And thus, the second leg of their journey began. Being cramped in the dark hold of the ship with other desperate refugees hadn’t been easy. He encountered several unsavory types’ intent on stealing what little possessions they had left, but a well placed jolt of lightning tended to set them straight. More than that the emotional state of his sister and Aveline worn on him. He wouldn’t begrudge them the time to grieve. His heart ached something fierce over the loss of Mother. Despite the fact he knew there was no other recourse to keep the darkspawn and any other scavengers that may have been lurking from desecrating her remains, burning her body and scattering her ashes to wind was the hardest thing that he’d ever done.

It became harder to keep from giving into despair as the darkness of the hold as Carver’s rage and Bethany’s melancholy sank in. He wanted to make everything better for them, but for the life of him, he didn’t know how. He fervently wished Mother was here. She always knew just what to say to make everyone feel better. He couldn’t believe she was gone. He knew it was wrong to wish death on anyone, but why couldn’t it have been Carver in her place. Carver was the soldier, the warrior that wielded his blade so flawlessly. Remorse tore through him at his unkind thoughts. He knew Mother had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Most of all, he wanted this journey to be over. To be on dry land once more, to not feel so uneasy about the darkness surrounding him… that would be worth more to him than all the sovereigns in Thedas.

…

As the black cliffs of Kirkwall came into view, a fresh wave of anxiety settled upon him. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what would happen once they reached the city. Mother had sent a letter to her brother Gamlen, but without her here with them there was no guarantee he’d be willing to help them. After all, they were nothing to him. Leandra’s apostate children… and Carver, too. Not to mention Aveline, a woman Gamlen didn’t even know. He tried to keep his spirits up, to not give in to despair, but it was such an easy trap to fall in to.

The ship docked in the Gallows, which housed Kirkwall’s Circle of Magi. Elias was wary of being there, but both he and Bethany had been taught very well how to hide their magic, to dampen their mana to near undetectable levels by even the most skilled Templars. It was a skill that had saved them both on numerous occasions. As he departed the ship, the first thing he noticed was how many refugees were camped here. It soon became evident that none of them were being allowed in the city.

From a stationed guard he learned the city was closed and no one was being allowed entry, by order of Knight-Commander Meredith. He thought it strange that a Templar made the rules, but soon learned she was the true power in Kirkwall, not the Viscount. That knowledge did little to settle his unease, but they had nowhere else to go. They had to find Gamlen. The sooner they found their uncle, the better he’d feel.

But Elias should have known that nothing ever went the way one expected it to go. Gamlen Amell turned out to be a disappointment, to say the least. The vulgar swine had sold off the Amell estate to settle a debt, and now resided in the slums of Lowtown. The man wanted nothing to do with Leandra’s mongrel children. He may have helped Leandra escape with Malcolm Hawke, but his generosity ended there. As far as he was concerned they could all head back to Ferelden and die from the Blight. His refusal to help them stung, but somehow Elias had expected it. It was just how their luck had been. It might have been different if Leandra had been there.

“We’re getting into this city one way or another. We don’t need him.” Elias vowed with a voice full of piss and vinegar. They’d come too far to turn back.

“Do we need to stay here? Why can’t we try another city? Somewhere further inland. There has to be places that aren’t full of refugees.” Carver suggested.

“And how are we supposed to get there? We don’t have the coin to take another ship.” Elias retorted as something in his peripheral vision caught his eye. An elf of all people was trying hard not to be seen signaling them. What did she want?

He walked away from a sputtering Carver and approached the elven woman wearing intricate brown and green armor. It almost looked Dalish, but she bore no tattoos on her face. “Can I help you?” Elias asked as he walked near her and leaned against one of the large columns bearing a rather disturbing bronzed slave statue.

“The real question you should ask is how I can help you?” She turned his words around on him.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, an eyebrow raised in askance. “Alright, I’ll bite.”

“I’ve had my eye on you. You and your companions are different from everyone else here. Oh, I’ve seen thugs, swords for hire and soldiers pass through these gates, but none like you. Why is that? Makes me curious. Makes me think you might be just what I need.”

“And what do you need?” He wasn’t sure he liked where this was going, but he’d at least hear her out.

“Skill and discretion. I think you possess those things. How else has an apostate gone undetected right beneath the noses of the Templars for as long as you have?” The elf chuckled in a low voice. “What’s more, we can keep them from noticing you while you’re with us. Wouldn’t be the first time. The Templars like to think they have all mages properly leashed, but when has that ever been true?”

“Just who are you?” Elias hissed as he turned a pair of grey menacing eyes upon her.

“Name’s Athenril. Me and my crew… we may not be as big as the Coterie, but we keep our fingers in a lot of pots. That said we’re not killers or slavers. Everything else is fair game, though.”

Elias scoffed, “Smugglers.”

“I like to think of it as liberators of fine goods,” she grinned. “All you need to know for now is I have the coin to open those gates for you and all I require of you is that you work off your debt… for the next year. I doubt you’ll find a better offer elsewhere. Unless you want to stay here. Either you’ll be found out and become a permanent resident of the Gallows or you’ll end up on a ship headed back to blight struck Ferelden.”

“Do you need an answer now or can I have a moment to talk it over with my companions?”

“Please do.” Athenril grinned, “Don’t take all day.”

Elias rolled his eyes. He pushed away from the pillar and returned to Bethany and Aveline. Carver didn’t seem to be anywhere around. “I know how we’ll be getting into the city. It may not be something all of you will be willing to agree to, though.”

“What?” Bethany asked.

“An elven woman named Athenril runs an outfit. She’s willing to pay our way in if we work off the debt.”

“Indenture!”Aveline’s strident voice called out. “Hawke, you can’t be serious.”

“We’re refugees. Do you honestly believe we’ll get a better offer? At least this gets us into the city. Besides it’s only a year.” Elias retorted. “Do you have a better idea?”

The ginger haired warrior woman glared at him. She shook her head, “No, I guess not. What kind of work is it?”

“She’s a smuggler,” he leaned in and whispered in her ear.

“Hawke, you can’t honestly believe I’d do that kind of work!” Aveline protested. “You aren’t considering this, are you? There has to be another way. If someone like her is recruiting then maybe others are as well.”

“How many choices do you think we really have? If you don’t like it, you can find your own way, but as far as I’m concerned, this is as good as deal as we are going to get. Beth and I can’t afford to be choosy,” he hissed. His only concern was taking care of his siblings. He owed nothing to the ginger haired warrior who’d stuck with them all the way from Lothering.

Carver ran over to them, “Brother, maybe your idea isn’t the only one after all. The Red Iron Mercenary Company is also looking to take on new people. I just talked to Meeran. Same deal as your smuggler is offering. Indenture for a year in order to work off the debt. At least this way is honest.”

“Do you really think Beth would be comfortable as a mercenary?”

“I’ve never seen myself as the mercenary type,” Bethany replied. “Both offers scare me, but if I have to choose one I’d probably go with Elias and the smuggler.”

“There you have it. You and Aveline can be mercenaries and Beth and I will join Athenril. You won’t have to worry about being overshadowed by me for once.” Elias curled his upper lip in a sneer. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep Beth safe. Besides she may have contacts I can use to find Andreas.”

And so the split began. Carver and Aveline signed on with the Red Iron while Elias and Bethany joined Athenril’s small outfit of smugglers.

Working for Athenril certainly wasn’t pretty by any means. Hers was a small operation. They were in constant danger from the Coterie, but somehow they survived and were quite successful at it. Some of the jobs they handled involved smuggling thousands of sovereigns. Others involved lyrium. Most of their work involved luxury goods liberated from upscale merchants in Hightown. As long as they got paid, Elias really didn’t care. It was just one step closer to being free of the indenture.

As far as tracking down his twin brother Andreas, his hunch had been right. Athenril did have contacts within the Raiders. That knowledge came as a shock. His twin… a raider, pirate. Andreas was a ship captain, known as Black Dread. While it didn’t make him happy, he knew if he could get a message to him, he and Bethany may have somewhere else to go if the Templars came to call. Hopefully that wouldn’t happen, but one never knew. They’d had close calls and he swore he’d die and take as many templar’s with him as he could before he’d let them get their hands on Bethany. He wouldn’t allow what happened to him to happen to her.

…

“What’s the job for tonight?” Elias asked as he approached Athenril, finding her crouched behind a stack of crates on the western docks.

“There you are, Hawke. I expected you an hour ago,” the elf frowned at him. She was normally easy-going, but tonight she was glaring daggers. If looks could kill…

Elias shrugged, “I had to teach my greasy uncle a lesson not to steal from me. Bastard wouldn’t help us get into the city, but now that we’re staying with him, and paying for the food it’s all his. He traded that pouch of gems you gave me for a night at the Rose.”

Athenril turned her moss green eyes upon the young mage as her frown turned into a devilish grin, “What did you do?”

“Laid a nightmare hex on him,” Elias smirked as he knelt beside her. “He’ll stop screaming eventually. And if he doesn’t, I’ll silence him. So what do you have for me tonight?”

“You, me and Garriel are headed out to the Wounded Coast. We’ll be boarding a ship. It belongs to a friend in the Raiders. They’re after an Orlesian brig called The Duchess. Once it’s disabled, Arinaya, Caris and Bethany will join us from a second ship to strip it of its loot. They promised a share of the profit if it all goes according to plan. Oh, speaking of raiders, I have something for you.” Athenril pulled a letter from inside her pocket and handed it over to him. “Don’t know what you wanted with a blackguard like Black Dread, but he sent a reply. I’d stay away from him if I were you. He’s nothing but trouble. Bad trouble, Hawke. Murder, kidnapping, extortion, slavery… bad as Ianto. The stories I’ve heard about him, well it’s said he sold his family into slavery.”

Elias gave her an angry look. He hadn’t told her the whole story of who and why, but now it was time to come clean. “That’s fucking bullshit. He didn’t sell his family. Bethany and I are his family. He’s my twin brother, Athenril. I haven’t seen him since we were 16 years old. It’s been almost eight years. To me, he’s Andreas, not just some raider.”

A visible shudder coursed through his elven boss. “I wouldn’t be caught calling him by any other name but Black Dread, family or no, if I were you. I think I’d forget the whole notion of having anything to do with him. He’s trouble. Now let’s go.”

Elias cocked an eyebrow at her skeptically as he followed her out. He didn’t believe that. They were brothers. Twins. Their parting may have been tumultuous, but they were older now. Enough time had gone by to set aside the past and hopefully start anew. He missed Andreas, especially since both their parents were now gone. He was not the same person he was eight years ago, though. He knew the blind adoration of his much larger, stronger brother wouldn’t hold much sway. Andreas needed to know that he held no blame, no ill will against him for the attack by the Templars that led to Andreas running away.

…

A male elven bowman joined them shortly thereafter and they made haste to the Wounded Coast, boarding a well armed frigate called the Seven Daggers that was docked in a sheltered cove. A second ship called the Salty Wench set sail from an adjacent cove at the same time. Elias figured it was the ship Bethany was on.

Athenril had briefed him on what he’d be doing. The Seven Daggers had several apostate mages as crew members. It was his job to join them in raining fire and lightning at The Duchess as they forced it toward the cliffs. He brought extra lyrium potions, ones he had been saving for such an occasion as this when he could unleash his magic without fear of being caught.

The ships sailed out into the Waking Sea. After an hour at sea, they sighted the Orlesian brig sailing towards them. They readied for the attack, letting the brig sail past. The attack on the brig was bloody as it was fast. By the time it sank, they had unloaded the goods and were sailing back to the Wounded Coast. Athenril gave Elias and Bethany their share, after putting a portion of it toward paying off the indenture.

Bethany joined him at the Hanged Man afterwards. He wanted to read Andreas’ letter, without Gamlen sticking his nose into it. The hex would’ve long worn off. He figured he find his wretched uncle stone cold drunk.

He tossed Nora a silver piece for two mugs of the swill Corff served and opened the letter. It was thin, very short and written in flowing script. His handwriting wasn’t anywhere near that neat or legible. Bethany had often called it ‘chicken scratch.’ Carver’s was the same way.

To Elias Hawke, Kirkwall:

You’re chasing rainbows with no pot of gold at the end.

The man you seek died years ago.

Signed,

The Black Dread

Elias’ heart plummeted in his chest. Blinking back the tears, he showed it to Bethany, before producing a ball of flame in his fist, burning the parchment. “I had hoped he’d come around. I had hoped we could count on him if we needed a quick getaway if the templars tried to take us to the Gallows. Fuck it! I should have known better!”

“It’s his loss, Eli. We don’t need him.” Bethany tried to comfort him, but her words sounded hollow.

“Let’s just go home. I’ll feel better after some sleep.”

…

#fate or chance #elias hawke #dragon age 2 #hawke #custom hawke #carver hawke #bethany hawke #hawke twins #fanfiction #da2

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shannaraisles · 7 years

Note

"quiet me" for the prompt, please, any pairing you prefer : )

Quiet Me - Carver(Templar)/Emer(OC)

“He’s going to kill me! I didn’t do anything wrong, and he’s going to -”

“Look, just shut up, would you?”

Carver growled, wrapping one hand around the gibbering mage’s arm to drag her out of the main corridor. He picked door at random, pulling her into the dark confines of a broom cupboard. Ser Alrik was on the prowl, angry at something he had either learned from or been told by Knight-Commander Meredith, and Emer was an easy target. The Knight-Commander never even blinked when she heard of unpleasantness aimed at the last surviving Threnhold.

Emer was sobbing, terror seeping from every pore as she trembled, unable to quiet herself even when her life depended on it. Trapped in a dark space with a templar - even a templar who had been kind to her - was a fate she had always tried to avoid. Not for her the secret trysts that some templars forced on mages, whether they were welcomed or not. She was a target of choice for the nastier side of certain tempers, and Ser Alrik’s temper was not one she had ever wanted to get on the bad side of. All she had done was look at him; if she hadn’t been braced to run, she was certain he would have condemned her to Tranquility on the spot, just for existing.

Carver hadn’t known any of this was happening when Emer had barreled around the corner and run straight into him. He’d only been aware that a mage close to his own age was terrified and running; that she’d screamed when his hands had closed over her arms. Even here and now, when silence was her greatest ally, she was loud in her fear, utterly failing to muffle the whimpering cries that punctuated her terror.

“Emer ... look at me, listen ...” He gripped her arms, peering at her in the gloom. “You have to calm down. He’ll hear you!”

“I-I ... I can’t, I ... he ... what if ...”

The clank of armor in the corridor beyond the door caught Carver’s attention. What would Seryn do? he found himself wondering. Not that he needed to wonder far - his sister would probably burst out of the closet and attack. She wasn’t subtle, Seryn. But this was the Gallows, and a dead templar would attract all sorts of terrible attention. Emer would almost certainly be made Tranquil if he attacked a brother on her behalf, and then ... there wouldn’t be any more shy smiles in the library. No more passed notes on patrols. No more innocent touches of hand to hand as they passed in the halls. He couldn’t bear the thought of seeing her made Tranquil, any more than he could stomach the idea of Seryn suffering the same fate. His sister had not forgiven him for joining the Order, but how else was he supposed to protect her? He’d failed Bethany; he wouldn’t fail Seryn. And right now ... he refused to fail Emer.

“... the little bitch? Where?” Ser Alrik’s voice growled beyond the door, far too close for comfort.

Emer wailed, certain she was soon for death or worse, and Carver ... just reacted.

His gauntleted hand cupped her jaw, pulling the petite woman close as his lips captured hers, the only thing he could think of to muffle her, to distract her from her terror. He felt her squeak beneath the unexpected kiss; felt her struggle and soften as the tension faded from her form. There was nothing but this darkness, this kiss, and as her soft hands crept to his cheeks, he finally let himself admit that this was what he had been wanting for far too long.

With gentle hands, he lifted her from her feet, pressing her back against the shelves that crowded the dark space, lips parting to ravish her mouth with hungry desire. She gasped as his fingers lifted her robe to knead at the tender flesh of her thigh, her legs wrapping tight about his hips, the danger forgotten. Did she want this, too? Was she just as tight with forbidden yearning each time their eyes met in this deadly place?

He wanted ... but he didn’t dare go too far. He didn’t want to be a templar that took what he wanted without a care for the wish of his charge. As the angry voices faded away, Carver gently lowered Emer to the floor, letting her robe slip back to modestly cover her legs as his kiss tenderly came to an end. She stared up at him, resin-dark eyes wide with unmistakable longing.

“There,” he murmured softly, one thumb stroking the tears from her cheeks. “He’s gone.”

She shivered, leaning into the protective curl of his hand to her cheek as her eyes closed, savoring the unexpected warmth of a touch not meant to harm. “I ... thank you, Ser Carver.”

“Just Carver,” he told her sternly, tilting her chin until she looked into his eyes. “I promised once that I wouldn’t let you be hurt for no reason, Emer. I, um ... I think we can both guess why, now.”

Despite her habitual fear, her learned meekness, he thought he saw a flicker of impishly sweet joy skitter over her face as she leaned into the press of his armor against her chest. “Carver,” she whispered, quiet now in his arms.

It was madness, to love a mage. Here in the Gallows, it was a death sentence if he was caught. Finally, he understood just why his mother had taken the risks she had. He would do that much, and more, just to see Emer Threnhold’s smile in the sunlight. They just had to survive Kirkwall somehow, in softness and secrecy. One day, things would improve.

But for now, there was quiet and calm, and these kisses to hold close, until they could find some way to be free.

Thank you, @damnedapostate, for this prompt! I haven’t really explored too much of Carver and Emer yet - wasn’t expecting it to go in this direction!

Prompt me, I dare you. I’ll write anything Dragon Age, any pairing - even my own OCs!

#prompt filled #damnedapostate #askboxmeme #challenge me #carver hawke/original female character #carver/emer #carver hawke #templar carver #emer threnhold #my ocs #dragon age #da2

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dumpsterfirebooks · 7 years

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Rhyssa Idea

So I’m not entirely sure how I feel about how this came out, but here’s some crackship Rhyssa (Rhys/Vassa.) It’s different from my usual headcanon style but I wasn’t really sure how to write what was in my head. It’s under the cut because I know how insane I’ve made people’s dashes with my threads lately. It’s tagged ‘aco-rhyssa’ because there’s a fandom out there somewhere that has a ‘rhyssa’ tag.

Background:

Feyre still freaked out at the wedding. Rhys still takes her 1 week a month but when she gets back the first time Tamlin realizes that some shit should change mainly his attitude. Rhys asks for Feyre’s help while she’s there like he did before. Tamlin is still trying to break the bargain because it’s still weird for his fiancé to take off with another guy all the time. If it wasn’t for the dancing on Rhys he might handle it better but that image of Feyre grinding on Rhys never really leaves his mind. Since Feyre agreed to help him earlier they contact the queens much sooner. When Rhys finds out that the 6th queen is missing he has Azriel send out his spies to try and find her. Everything still plays out at Hybern with her sisters going in the cauldron, but the King sends his niece and nephew back to the Spring Court right away with them and Rhys takes her sisters still to keep them safe.

When Azriel finds Vassa on the continent bound to a lake he first sees her at night. On his return he informs Rhys that Vassa might not be an option she seems tied to the lake. Rhys sets out to see for himself after all maybe his magic can free her. It takes Rhys 2 days to get to the lake and when he arrives it’s just as the sun is coming up. He approaches her cautiously, but doesn’t get to her before the sun hits her and turns her into a firebird.

Stunned he hears her crying and her thoughts. She’s trapped. Not only is she stuck at this lake, but she’s stuck in this form everyday waiting to regain her body every night. Against every instinct he stays the rest of the day waiting for her to turn back. All the while he listens to her thoughts; her pain and desperation. She’s just like he was trapped by Amarantha under the mountain. No control over his body, no way out, not truly fighting back to protect the ones you love. He learns she has a younger sister, someone she wishes to keep from suffering the same fate she has resigned herself to.

When night finally comes he wants to step out from the darkness, wants to talk to her. He realizes though that she can’t help them get the other piece of the book. Before he winnows away he hears her crying in her human body. He leaves vowing to find a way to free her when everything is done with the King. He sends music into her mind like he did Feyre, it’s not much this small piece of comfort he tries to give her.

It’s not until Feyre’s sisters go into the cauldron that Rhys thinks about Vassa again. Azriel’s shadows give him updates on her condition, but when Elain mentions a crying bird he knows it’s her. He leaves Amren and Mor in charge as he goes back to the lake, and there she is. She’s beautiful in both forms, and terrifying. She’s still the raging girl he first saw all those months ago, but something is different. She doesn’t cry at night anymore, instead she paces around like she’s trying to find the exit in an invisible wall, humming a song. The song he sent to her he realizes.

At the same moment he realizes what it is she’s humming she stops and looks up through the trees directly to where he is. She blinks rapidly, possibly thinking she might be hallucinating him. Taking a deep breath he steps out from the woods meeting her gaze “Vassa” he says hesitantly. Shaking his head “Sorry I mean Queen Vassa, I’ve been looking for you.” He left out that he had found her before and put aside trying to help her for a while, but she didn’t need to know that. All that mattered was that he was here now. That is until she threw her shoe at him.

She had known he realized, that he had been here those month ago. She knew he had sent her that music and then left her. What was supposed to be a small gift of peace was torture, knowing someone had been so close yet never actually speaking to her. He deserved the shoe to the head even though it landed by his feet. Night didn’t bother her anymore though so it must have done some good. It was a song his mother used to hum to him when he was in the Illyrian camps as a child. Another thing he’d never tell her.

As they talked he didn’t know what happened, but he realized he had begun fall in love with this woman. Fitting that he’d love a woman who could only be herself at night. The irony of it all, not to mention the inner beast he kept hidden while she was forced to become hers every day. He stayed with her all night telling her what was happening in the world. As the sun began to rise in the horizon he braced himself for the change he knew was coming. The moment the light touched her she’d turn. Just as the first ray goes to touch her he envelops them in darkness. He doesn’t even think about it before he does it, but he is night dammit he’ll give her as much time as he can. It’s worth a shot at least.

Mother and Cauldron damn him both, but she doesn’t change. This could work he could keep her human with his power. He could bring her back to the Night Court so long as she was cloaked under his darkness. This could work he thought as he let hope creep in. Vassa seemed shocked more than anything that she hadn’t turned. Shocked and slightly terrified that she couldn’t see anything. She felt a hand reach out and grab hers though. Rhysand. She knew it had to be him creating this and holding the little pieces of her together. It had been she realized since that day months ago when she heard the music.

As his fingers laced in her she felt a pull. Not some feeling in her chest, but an actual physical tug. Before she could consider what it was, the darkness had disappeared and with it Rhysand. She was a bird once more as the sun touched her skin. Alone again and trapped at this forsaken lake.

Rhys appeared, having winnowed from the lake but Vassa was not with him. He hadn’t let her hand go he didn’t understand. She was human, she was covered in darkness he should have been able to winnow her. Dawning on him much too late he remembered Azriel’s words, “she’s bound to the lake by some creature.” The death god the Bone Carver had told Feyre about, his brother, someone the Carver feared enough to lock himself up in the prison. He didn’t look back to the lake, he didn’t have to the sun had fully risen and he could see Vassa flying above the trees unable to leave. He’d free her from that lake, from her curse somehow.

#aco-rhyssa #rhysand #vassa #aco-crackship

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stephenmccull · 4 years

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They Fell In Love Helping Drug Users. But Fear Kept Him From Helping Himself.

She was in medical school. He was just out of prison.

Sarah Ziegenhorn and Andy Beeler’s romance grew out of a shared passion to do more about the country’s drug overdose crisis.

Ziegenhorn moved back to her home state of Iowa when she was 26. She had been working in Washington, D.C., where she also volunteered at a needle exchange — where drug users can get clean needles. She was ambitious and driven to help those in her community who were overdosing and dying, including people she had grown up with.

“Many people were just missing because they were dead,” said Ziegenhorn, now 31. “I couldn’t believe more wasn’t being done.”

She started doing addiction advocacy in Iowa City while in medical school — lobbying local officials and others to support drug users with social services.

Beeler had the same conviction, born from his personal experience.

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“He had been a drug user for about half of his life — primarily a longtime opiate user,” Ziegenhorn said.

Beeler spent years in and out of the criminal justice system for a variety of drug-related crimes, such as burglary and possession. In early 2018, he was released from prison. He was on parole and looking for ways to help drug users in his hometown.

He found his way to advocacy work and, through that work, found Ziegenhorn. Soon they were dating.

“He was just this really sweet, no-nonsense person who was committed to justice and equity,” she said. “Even though he was suffering in many ways, he had a very calming presence.”

People close to Beeler describe him as a “blue-collar guy” who liked motorcycles and home carpentry, someone who was gentle and endlessly curious. Those qualities could sometimes hide his struggle with anxiety and depression. Over the next year, Beeler’s other struggle, with opioid addiction, would flicker around the edges of their life together.

Eventually, it killed him.

People on parole and under supervision of the corrections system can face barriers to receiving appropriate treatment for opioid addiction. Ziegenhorn said she believes Beeler’s death is linked to the many obstacles to medical care he experienced while on parole.

About 4.5 million people are on parole or probation in the U.S., and research shows that those under community supervision are much more likely to have a history of substance use disorder than the general population. Yet rules and practices guiding these agencies can preclude parolees and people on probation from getting evidence-based treatment for their addiction.

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A Shared Passion For Reducing Harm

From their first meeting, Ziegenhorn said, she and Beeler were in sync, partners and passionate about their work in harm reduction — public health strategies designed to reduce risky behaviors that can hurt health.

After she moved to Iowa, Ziegenhorn founded a small nonprofit called the Iowa Harm Reduction Coalition. The group distributes the opioid-overdose reversal drug naloxone and other free supplies to drug users, with the goal of keeping them safe from illness and overdose. The group also works to reduce the stigma that can dehumanize and isolate drug users. Beeler served as the group’s coordinator of harm reduction services.

“In Iowa, there was a feeling that this kind of work was really radical,” Ziegenhorn said. “Andy was just so excited to find out someone was doing it.”

Meanwhile, Ziegenhorn was busy with medical school. Beeler helped her study. She recalled how they used to take her practice tests together.

“Andy had a really sophisticated knowledge of science and medicine,” she said. “Most of the time he’d been in prison and jails, he’d spent his time reading and learning.”

Beeler was trying to stay away from opioids, but Ziegenhorn said he still used heroin sometimes. Twice she was there to save his life when he overdosed. During one episode, a bystander called the police, which led to his parole officer finding out.

“That was really a period of a lot of terror for him,” Ziegenhorn said.

Beeler was constantly afraid the next slip — another overdose or a failed drug test — would send him back to prison.

An Injury, A Search For Relief

A year into their relationship, a series of events suddenly brought Beeler’s history of opioid use into painful focus.

It began with a fall on the winter ice. Beeler dislocated his shoulder — the same one he’d had surgery on as a teenager.

“At the emergency room, they put his shoulder back into place for him,” Ziegenhorn said. “The next day it came out again.”

She said doctors wouldn’t prescribe him prescription opioids for the pain because Beeler had a history of illegal drug use. His shoulder would dislocate often, sometimes more than once a day.

“He was living with this daily, really severe constant pain — he started using heroin very regularly,” Ziegenhorn said.

Beeler knew what precautions to take when using opioids: Keep naloxone on hand, test the drugs first and never use alone. Still, his use was escalating quickly.

A Painful Dilemma

The couple discussed the future and their hope of having a baby together, and eventually Ziegenhorn and Beeler agreed: He had to stop using heroin.

They thought his best chance was to start on a Food and Drug Administration-approved medication for opioid addiction, such as methadone or buprenorphine. Methadone is an opioid, and buprenorphine engages many of the same opioid receptors in the brain; both drugs can curb opioid cravings and stabilize patients. Studies show daily maintenance therapy with such treatment reduces the risks of overdose and improves health outcomes.

But Beeler was on parole, and his parole officer drug-tested him for opioids and buprenorphine specifically. Beeler worried that if a test came back positive, the officer might see that as a signal that Beeler had been using drugs illegally.

Ziegenhorn said Beeler felt trapped: “He could go back to prison or continue trying to obtain opioids off the street and slowly detox himself.”

He worried that a failed drug test — even if it was for a medication to treat his addiction — would land him in prison. Beeler decided against the medication.

A few days later, Ziegenhorn woke up early for school. Beeler had worked late and fallen asleep in the living room. Ziegenhorn gave him a kiss and headed out the door. Later that day, she texted him. No reply.

She started to worry and asked a friend to check on him. Not long afterward, Beeler was found dead, slumped in his chair at his desk. He’d overdosed.

“He was my partner in thought, and in life and in love,” Ziegenhorn said.

It’s hard for her not to rewind what happened that day and wonder how it could have been different. But mostly she’s angry that he didn’t have better choices.

“Andy died because he was too afraid to get treatment,” she said.

Beeler was services coordinator for the Iowa Harm Reduction Coalition, a group that works to help keep drug users safe. A tribute in Iowa City after his death began, “He died of an overdose, but he’ll be remembered for helping others avoid a similar fate.”(Courtesy of Sarah Ziegenhorn)

How Does Parole Handle Relapse? It Depends

It’s not clear that Beeler would have gone back to prison for admitting he’d relapsed and was taking treatment. His parole officer did not agree to an interview.

But Ken Kolthoff, who oversees the parole program that supervised Beeler in Iowa’s First Judicial District Department of Correctional Services, said generally he and his colleagues would not punish someone who sought out treatment because of a relapse.

“We would see that that would be an example of somebody actually taking an active role in their treatment and getting the help they needed,” said Kolthoff.

The department doesn’t have rules prohibiting any form of medication for opioid addiction, he said, as long as it’s prescribed by a doctor.

“We have people relapse every single day under our supervision. And are they being sent to prison? No. Are they being sent to jail? No,” Kolthoff said.

But Dr. Andrea Weber, an addiction psychiatrist with the University of Iowa, said Beeler’s reluctance to start treatment is not unusual.

“I think a majority of my patients would tell me they wouldn’t necessarily trust going to their [parole officer],” said Weber, assistant director of addiction medicine at the University of Iowa’s Carver College of Medicine. “The punishment is so high. The consequences can be so great.”

Weber finds probation and parole officers have “inconsistent” attitudes toward her patients who are on medication-assisted treatment.

“Treatment providers, especially in our area, are still very much ingrained in an abstinence-only, 12-step mentality, which traditionally has meant no medications,” Weber said. “That perception then invades the entire system.”

Attitudes And Policies Vary Widely

Experts say it’s difficult to draw any comprehensive picture about the availability of medication for opioid addiction in the parole and probation system. The limited amount of research suggests that medication-assisted treatment is significantly underused.

“It’s hard to quantify because there are such a large number of individuals under community supervision in different jurisdictions,” said Michael Gordon, a senior research scientist at the Friends Research Institute, based in Baltimore.

A national survey published in 2013 found that about half of drug courts did not allow methadone or other evidence-based medications used to treat opioid use disorder.

A more recent study of probation and parole agencies in Illinois reported that about a third had regulations preventing the use of medications for opioid use disorder. Researchers found the most common barrier for those on probation or parole “was lack of experience by medical personnel.”

Faye Taxman, a criminology professor at George Mason University, said decisions about how to handle a client’s treatment often boil down to the individual officer’s judgment.

“We have a long way to go,” she said. “Given that these agencies don’t typically have access to medical care for clients, they are often fumbling in terms of trying to think of the best policies and practices.”

Increasingly, there is a push to make opioid addiction treatment available within prisons and jails. In 2016, the Rhode Island Department of Corrections started allowing all three FDA-approved medications for opioid addiction. That led to a dramatic decrease in fatal opioid overdoses among those who had been recently incarcerated.

Massachusetts has taken similar steps. Such efforts have only indirectly affected parole and probation.

“When you are incarcerated in prison or jail, the institution has a constitutional responsibility to provide medical services,” Taxman said. “In community corrections, that same standard does not exist.”

Taxman said agencies may be reluctant to offer these medications because it’s one more thing to monitor. Those under supervision are often left to figure out on their own what’s allowed.

“They don’t want to raise too many issues because their freedom and liberties are attached to the response,” she said.

Richard Hahn, a researcher at New York University’s Marron Institute of Urban Management who consults on crime and drug policy, said some agencies are shifting their approach.

“There is a lot of pressure on probation and parole agencies not to violate people just on a dirty urine or for an overdose” said Hahn, who is executive director of the institute’s Crime & Justice Program.

The federal government’s Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration calls medication-assisted treatment the “gold standard” for treating opioid addiction when used alongside “other psychosocial support.”

Addiction is considered a disability under the Americans with Disabilities Act, said Sally Friedman, vice president of legal advocacy for the Legal Action Center, a nonprofit law firm based in New York City.

She said disability protections extend to the millions of people on parole or probation. But people under community supervision, Friedman said, often don’t have an attorney who can use this legal argument to advocate for them when they need treatment.

“Prohibiting people with that disability from taking medication that can keep them alive and well violates the ADA,” she said.

This story is part of a partnership between NPR and Kaiser Health News.

They Fell In Love Helping Drug Users. But Fear Kept Him From Helping Himself. published first on https://smartdrinkingweb.weebly.com/

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