As a disclaimer: This is very deep in the DA2 approval lore. And this is a very buggy game and I can in no way guarantee that this wasn’t just a programming mistake. And beyond that I think many of the approval point calculations in DA2 were poorly considered, and I would totally be brushing this as one of them if it was about any other two characters. But I’m going to let myself indulge this one and feed my merders agenda m’kay.
Very obsessed with the change in Anders approval rates between the first and second passes on giving Merrill the Arulin’holm. And I really do wonder if it was on purpose and what, if anything, the writers intended to say here.
Without, like, installing the new EA app on my dying laptop and running off to get the screenshots as proof, iirc the first pass happens right after Marethari has given Hawke the Arulin’holm. Merrill is at that point breathing a sigh of relief that Marethari has relinquished it in the first place, and largely taking for granted that Hawke will hand it over.
It’s after that first pass that Merrill realises she has to make a rhetorical claim to the artefact. And her argument is basically this isn’t Hawke’s decision to make and she knows what she’s doing.
And Anders doesn’t have any dialogue here between these two choices but I am intrigued by the possibility that he did find that argument at least partly convincing. Note you do still get +10 approval for refusing to hand it over, so he’s def not broken up about whether Merrill actually gets what she wants here or not. But I like the idea that for a moment he recognises part of himself in Merrill. Like, he may not support what she’s doing or approve of giving her the Arulin’holm, but maybe he approves of the fact that Hawke is deferring to another mage’s decisions and expertise. They are living in a time when the general consensus is that mages shouldn’t be allowed to be in charge of their own lives, in a time when Anders himself is constantly dealing with others’ judgement about the choices he’s made with Justice and the Underground and the sacrifices he’s made with his time and health to sustain them. So maybe Hawke understanding that and responding in defense of mages’ right to those choices is as important in his eyes as whether Hawke agrees with his feelings about the actual choices themselves.
(And all that being said, Marethari handing an ancient Elvhen artefact to a human, knowing Merrill would do anything to get it, knowing Merrill is isolated in an environment when Hawke holds clear social privilege over her, is fucked up in ways Anders won’t even begin to understand. So, yeah, this post isn’t trying to erase any of the ways he’s still being awful in this scene as much as trying to examine the specific nature of how.)
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TEEHEE HI You'll probably know who this is from the request but ermm...
Could I rq some imagines of a sleepy Jiminy Cricket with an S/I who finds it hard to fall asleep early? I imagine he's a pretty sleepy guy sometimes and I find it hard to go to sleep at a decent time that isn't midnight or after midnight lol
Requesting this because theres like. 0 good Jiminy X reader content that isn't him from One upon a time
THANK U!!
~ @berryshipbasket
OH MY GOD BERRY!! I know this ask is old asf 😭 I've been absolutely SWAMPED, but I saw you weren't feeling well so I'm putting on my big boy pants and showing the darling Jiminy some attention <3
Jiminy Cricket x Insomniac S/O~!
This is a man who loves to snooze -- He goes to bed early, wakes up late, and sometimes, if he's feeling frisky, has a mid-afternoon nap to reboot his system
He doesn't expect his partner to conform to this schedule, of course, but he does enjoy a little bit of a cuddle before he drifts off... if his beloved doesn't make an appearance for their nightly snuggles, he'll start getting a little antsy
He sits up, stretches, and rubs his eyes, looking longingly at the empty place beside him (even if it's only 9:30 at night. That's late for him!)
He'll track his lover down like a groggy, sleepy-eyed hawk, sitting down besides them with a clumsy thud
"You didn't come to bed, darlin'..." He laments, sticking his bottom lip out, and giving you the most sincere puppy eyes you've ever seen on a man (or cricket, for that matter-)
Even if you want to make a quip about how early in the night it is, that sweet, pleading act is hard to refute -- it just makes you wanna curl up beside him, leaning against his round little head
He knows you're not the best at drifting off, but that won't stop him from trying his damn best to lure you in anyway
"Now, now. A full night's rest is good for the brain! Good for the soul! Come, at least try 'n shut your eyes, honeybun. For me??"
Pleas complete with stifled little yawns and gloved fingers intertwining with yours
How could you say no?
Somehow, someway he convinces you to come and have a little lie down, just to see how you feel -- he promises that if you REALLY can't sleep, he'll let you up and leave. He swears on it!
But his hand rubbing soft, soothing circles across the small of your back really is calming, isn't it...
And the sweet sound of his voice, maybe singing you a little lullaby to help you along (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pguMUFyJ3_U)
He knows what he's doing. Trust me, you'll be counting sheep in no time <3
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more kissing prompts?! fenhawke - an abrupt kiss that you melt into after a moment of hesitation 😌
Always kissing prompts!! It's my favorite prompt list to date c: Thank you, by the way! And here you are:
Poppy Red
(Maria Hawke/Fenris | 1,273 Words | No warnings) Hawke and Fenris's first date
It should not be odd to see Fenris on her doorstep.
He’d stood right there a hundred times—or perhaps a thousand was more accurate—and the paint on the door bore marks from his gauntlet. She was fairly certain at least some of the graffiti on the kitchen table had been carved by the same gauntlet on some drunken night with all her friends in attendance, and he’d certainly spent the night in her bedroom.
So—yes, he’d been to the manor before. But he’d never come for the express purpose of wooing her before, and that made it all feel new again.
“Hello,” Hawke said, a little breathless, and Fenris stared at her through his hair.
“Ah,” she said after a moment, stepping to the side to swing the door open, “Come in. I’ve sent the others away for the evening so we could have some…well. Dinner should be simple enough to serve, as long as you don’t mind the humility of the offering. It’s been some time since I’ve had to cook.”
She was babbling. Stupid old habit. Maria closed her mouth tight, pursing her lips while he went on looking at her.
“Should I…” she began, but Fenris shook himself at last and stepped inside, carefully wiping his feet on the mat and producing a fistful of flowers from behind his back.
They were red; he’d brought her flowers in her favorite color.
“Oh,” Hawke said, clasping her hands to her chest and rocking up onto the balls of her feet, “Are those…did you bring me flowers, Fenris?”
“I—yes,” he said, his voice rough, and thrust the posy in her direction.
The tips of his ears were...positively red, nearly as red as the flowers in his hands. Hawke felt a sweet little thrill in her heart and took a step closer.
“They’re beautiful,” she said emphatically, taking them from him and burying her face in broad, flat-petaled flowers, “But—poppies? Wherever did you get poppies in Kirkwall?”
“There is a garden behind the manor,” he said, shifting his feet back and forth uneasily, “I…do not visit it often, and it is overgrown. I had thought—but do you like them?”
“I love them!” she said, clasping the stems in both hands, “I didn’t think that you—but they’re lovely; of course I adore them. Thank you, Fenris. Truly.”
“It seemed…fitting,” he said, smiling faintly before ducking his head, “Ah—you mentioned a dinner?”
“Oh!” Hawke said, turning on her heel and heading for the kitchen, “Yes. I made a stew—I’m afraid anything much more complicated is beyond me. Is that alright?”
“It is more than I would have had at the manor,” he said, following her on near-silent feet.
The kitchen was her second-favorite room in the manor after the library. Something about its dark rafters and its broad fireplace reminded her of the kitchen in Lothering all those years ago. The smells of the herb bundles hanging from the ceiling added to the feeling and she took a deep breath of them now, the bittersweet notes of poppy mixing with the sharper smells of rosemary and dill. Fenris hovered in the doorway while she retrieved a jar, filled it with water, and arranged the flowers inside.
He’d brought her flowers.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Hawke asked, and glanced up to find that his eyes were fixed on her in that intense way he sometimes had.
“What?” she asked, hands stilling on the stems, “Is something wrong?”
“No!” Fenris barked, and when he shook his head a lock of pale hair drifted over it, “No, I—you…you look…lovely this evening.”
Hawke looked down at herself. She’d worn a dress just in case, but stew had been more difficult than she’d recalled. There were streaks of flour about her waist, and she’d run out of time to do her hair. It was gathered loosely in a leather cord now, several shorter pieces in the front escaping the queue along her back.
Well, she’d thought despairingly when he’d knocked on the door, he’s seen me with brains in my hair and my intestines on the floor, surely a bit of flour can’t scare him off now.
It appeared that she’d been correct.
“Thank you,” she said, “And…you as well. You look...nice.”
Fenris was wearing the same thing he always wore, but he, too, looked down at it as if he’d never seen his clothing before. Not…not her best work, she had to admit; surely there’d been something else to compliment him on.
It was just—well. He was always so handsome; she really didn’t think other clothes would have made a significant difference. It still would have been Fenris wearing them, so he would have looked lovely regardless.
Rats—maybe she should have said that to him.
“...Thank you,” he said after a moment.
“Can you get the bowls?” Hawke asked brightly, still shaking her head at herself inwardly.
Why was this suddenly so hard? There were few people she knew better than Fenris, and she thought the same might be true of him. They’d known each other for six years now, had been through just about every horror known to Thedas together, and they certainly didn’t run short on passion if the night before last had been any indication.
What if that’s all this is? She wondered as she stirred the pot of stew, What if it will be too awkward to try for more than lovemaking? What if he doesn’t want more? She’d thought—but maybe she’d been wrong.
Hawke knew a lot about being wrong.
Before she could wander further down this unfortunate path of thought, a pair of hands caught her shoulders and spun her around. She barely had a moment to take in Fenris’s faintly desperate expression before he was kissing her, his lips hard on hers, his hands gripping her shoulders.
It wasn’t a great kiss. If she was being honest, it wasn’t even a good kiss. But after the initial shock, Hawke melted into it as if it was the best one she’d ever had. Fenris matched her, his shoulders loosening slightly, his lips softening as they moved over hers. The kiss had been hard to begin with, but it sweetened now, as Hawke angled her head and deepened the contact softly.
At last, Fenris pulled back with a sigh, his hands stroking over her shoulders once more before falling away.
“There,” he said quietly, “I thought I’d forgotten something. Is that…better?”
“Worlds better,” Maria said, beaming at him, and leaned forward to kiss him again. It was even easier this time, and he caught her hip when she would have stepped away again.
“Thank you,” Fenris said solemnly; for a moment, she thought he might be thanking her for the kiss, but he went on, “For welcoming me into your home.”
There was a weight to the words that she couldn’t quite place; some double meaning she would need to puzzle over later. For now, though, Maria shrugged and reached past him to take the bowls from the table.
“You’re welcome anytime you please,” she said, and handed him a full bowl, “Though I can’t say I’m especially gregarious in the mornings.”
“Yes,” Fenris said dryly, handing her the second bowl, “I noticed.”
They smiled at each other for a moment before he let go, both caught in memories of yesterday morning, but at last Hawke turned away again to serve herself dinner.
No—this wasn’t so bad after all. They would figure it out.
We are, she thought as he pulled her onto his lap and wrapped an arm around her waist, figuring things out quite nicely.
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