#▐▌hawke: a study. — ‹ ism. ›

[kcntsugi]

tag drop one!

[csphire]

Hopes and dreams I had for Dragon Age 4 that we so did not get.🙃😢

An actual RPG game. Not Nice Guy, Nice Funny Guy, and Nice but Stern Guy. Let us screw up and piss off our companions.

No more dialogue wheel selection bait and switches. "Nooo I didn't mean that. I did not think they would say that! That's not what I thought that choice meant. I meant-fuck! *sighs* ...I guess I'll have to reload." Or more accurately, "That was the mean option? Are you kidding me!"

Letting the player be an asshole. Sometimes, it's just cathartic to punch a character. People in customer service especially need this at the end of a shift. Putting this in games is a public service. We needed more of those kinds of moments beyond the bloody tutorial.

More of our previous choices having an actual impact in DA4. Like the Well of Sorrows I was so certain would bite an Inquisitor in the ass somehow in the future. Like Morrigan with Mythal in her could force the Inqusitor to hurt or even try to kill Solas. So I agonized over that choice. The same goes for who we left in the fade. Honestly, the three or so that carried over I did not see any impact on DAVG at all. Am I wrong?

Who we left in the fade showing up or we find their body. "Where's Hawke?" Yeah... where's Hawke BioWare? Get's Hawke's clothes instead. Well, that's... depressing.

The option to play as the Inquisitor trying to be low profile or as a nobody aka Rook. This way, everyone is happy, right? For a lot of us, the Inquisitor going toe to toe again with Solas was important.

By playing as the Inquisitor we would have had one sweet Dagna-created prostatic arm-not from Bianca because screw her. Also, depending on our class each one would be a little different. Oh, and that prosthetic would also be customizable just like Varric's crossbow and every other weapon in Dragon Age Inquisition. I really thought BioWare would jump to help feature an amputee in an empowering way. True we had Neve but it felt like more of an afterthought to give her a prosthetic that honestly looks uncomfortable as hell.

Open worlds to collect mats, and kill things to craft gear and weapons for our team only better. It would have given us time to breathe and enjoy the scenery. Plus I like doing that kind of tedious shit and if you don't, fine go buy that stuff I guess.

Vendors that will sell us the goods if we got the coin and none of that faction BS.

"Knife ear!" You think at least the venatori would be shouting that at my elf. Nope! I did not feel like my character's race mattered in this game. I don't think Solas over a decade really put the fear of the gods into the North. We all know isms and slavery are bad but putting those things in a game's world helps people realize why they're bad and can even help people feel what it's like to be on the receiving end of such abuses which can help create a thing called empathy.

Blood! Where is the blood? Why is my character not covered in dirt and the gore of their enemies? Don't like that, fair but what about an on-off feature in settings?

Enemies that send chills down my spine. Instead, the ogres and darkspawn made me bust out laughing. I cannot take them seriously, especially the ogres. I see them and think, "Derp a durr... oh I'm an ogre and soooo scardy... rawr."

Dagna... because she's adorable and if any dwarf deserves magic it's her. Or at least let her nerd out, study Lace and help her understand more about her new abilities.

Sandal Cameo at least. Also adorable aaand... ENCHANTMENT!

Our companions can get hurt. I'm starting to think they made them immortal because they knew some of us would let them get hurt on purpose. There are no feelings of concern at all for them going into combat now, no pick-up mechanics it leaves me feeling only more apathetic about them.

Quicker cooldowns on abilities instead of spamming the left mouse button all of the time. And more than two fucking abilities on my hot bar. BioWare... what were you thinking?

Three or more companions traveling with us instead of two. It was the gold standard all throughout the franchise. How are we supposed to get to know them all when limited to-oh right most of them have a personality as deep as a kiddy pool, never mind.

Companions with personalities and problems deeper than kiddy pools. That tension between Cassandra and Varric, Dorrian and Vivienne, Cole and Sera, and so forth was... chief's kiss.

Control of all THREE of our companions traveling with us in combat. Look, I'm a control freak who likes strategy. Combat for the series has always been centered on strategy, pausing, builds, and gear. Am I still bitter that they dropped us to two? ...Yes.

If playing as the Inquisitor you get the option to romance someone new. Especially let us have the option for Lavellan to move on from Solas.

Better-looking hands and body proportions. Why are the heads so damn big? And honestly the hands in failguard genuinely creep me the hell out with tucking the pinkies away all the time. It's weird! Strange hill to die on I know but they just make me cringe and die a little inside.

Romance scenes that would make Larian and BG3 fans blush. This game was always meant for adults. Adults have *gasp* SEX!

Solas not being a total red flag d-bag for killing our favorite dwarf! Run Lavellan Run! You're probably next. And if not him, Bianca is going for your eyes!

Solas being less of a manipulative antagonist twat and/or the player has the ability to be more diplomatic from the start with Solas to get his help. I feel like Solas' character development sorta backtracked by a lot.

Solas once again is a romance option but this time to EVERYONE! That and I wanted to see Lavellan and Solas finally get it on.

They finally let us romance Varric. Oh they did you so dirty, baby... *ugly crying*

A memorable soundtrack that sets off all the feels and is not stuff that's reused from the Inquisition.

Last but not least, where the fuck is our Golden Nug Bioware?

I might add more later, but feel free to add more and comment below!

[chmpn--a2]

just a lil garrett board.

[warwaged-archive]

I just realized I never finished their tags so

[lovendrins]

tag dump   (   marian hawke   )   !

.•  ♡ ┊     ›     marian hawke   ⸻   study 01 :   visage. .•  ♡ ┊     ›     marian hawke   ⸻   study 02 :   bodyclaim. .•  ♡ ┊     ›     marian hawke   ⸻   study 03 :   faceclaim. .•  ♡ ┊     ›     marian hawke   ⸻   study 04 :   aesthetics. .•  ♡ ┊     ›     marian hawke   ⸻   study 05 :   isms & mindset. .•  ♡ ┊     ›     marian hawke   ⸻   study 06 :   worldbuilding.

.•  ♡ ┊     ›     marian hawke   ⸻   verse ∞ :   the champion of kirkwall. .•  ♡ ┊     ›     marian hawke   ⸻   verse 01 :   inquisition arc. .•  ♡ ┊     ›     marian hawke   ⸻   verse 02 :   timeless arc.

[blaze8403]

Hawkins Versus Basco University Hawkins Versus Basco like BAS Co or Company not Bascos Chicken and waffles like breakfast on fast break and splatter platters of latter day like IHOP and International House of Philosophy noted not pancakes like Okane is not Bread cakes like Pan cakes in Japanese and paper folds like origami into A polymer Magick trick of 311CK 311USA 311USS March Eleven Pisces like spies and everything is snacking like cakes and pies and well maybe what Imperial Majesty Warlord King and God may despise and what may not of surprise like sunset or sunrise and poetics flow is kicking in like afterburners and the incoming of incoming aftermath like Pythagorean mathematics and metaphoric translations of lango like fresh squeezed mango and breaded chicken tenders and Ken be it sword and words like Pokemon and Poke Cola and the Pokemon Monday and Pokeball Magick 8 ball question like Hotel Phonetic letter H B2A1S19 Reduced to 1 BAS211 like not 211 steel Reserved but Mister GMA like Good morning America and email like Google Mail hotmail code Gmail Ai like love and secured electronic mailing like maybe A Mei ling but I and Me like Me and I not rap devil but Rhap lived devil is Diablo about to blow like word throughout the La Angels Daemos in devils armed for Demo like Demolition man or Theory Nigoogaes go boom Nigoogaes explode like ocsab and Saab like bus or sub Tao means the way Dao means the Path Tee to Dee and John Lee or Dee like Hawkins or Hopkins and operations that or on specific day like Hawkins Umbrella Corporation in big sway be it my ways like any others College Versus among Selection adding Basco University like the Market or Market like pulling up socks while the stocks are on Christmas like day of stocking stuffers maybe stuffed Hen like Hard Rock Cafe and Spell Face Maybe Lacie May or Debbie Tsu like the Art of war and spell Sun Tzu or Tsu and come Sunday Sutcivni like Sol invictus and Los La Angels From Location to Location Mexico and International like Woman or Wyman and Y chromosome letter 25 and Pythagorean single integer of 7 like GPY777 on GPA771 of Saint Paul Holy Paul on Roll to go Saint Row GTA Johnny GAT live with Resident evil weaponry tactic live ammunition and Devil may Cry Dante and Virgil combined I just may especially over A Virgin student or Virgin Mary like Marriott or Marriage today Religious studies Janism the ist or ism of imperial sent messages maybe up down east west north south like A Pokemon pinball no blood and bone take it back Fist of the North Star Theory and live action movie motion picture maybe lovie or two like Boop or Booper and Re not Book or Booker maybe online offline the ff in Kauffman not fast furious but rocking to super thug like the Called me Animal Thug I love animals Thug Terry Hawkins Undergraduate not unintelligent guess but the IQ of an Adult with A high intelligence quotient Rules to Yale like male or female the Lee Li in me spell life female male lame be a meal of my Kogeki not any pieces to note like Hawkins Versus Hopkins 1 to 5 debate in to Kyoto Tokyo Tsinghua T sign University Ninja U not you tube or NINJA Gaiden and fudging gaijin like God and love maybe currency men women money letter and number one of may day past Dday not my Bday be it Keio Waseda Truman Harvard Howard Towson University of Baltimore or Baltimore Maryland community colleges that got in the way Coppin like not poppin spell Hawkins and Hopkins Hawkins Hokinsu or any of my founded college's International Correction Prisons Association University Maybe Not Mom Co Dad Co but A Bas Co but yes Like Dan And DNA a Dan Brown Novel motion picture and Sailor moon like the Hawk in me and Takatsugetsu spell sun and moon like Ai or my Jujanjzanjutsu and magic of Magick like Iki says and Perose Dragonus Loki Kami Aisuru Ikigami Shinigami tribal combo like Tee T or Terry not eat ate tea on an eta estimated time of arrival or eastern time not entertainment tonight but Raven Phoenix Angel Dragon Rainbird Sparrow Hawking Dove like Shang Yang and yin and yang and Chinese Rainbird.

Hawkins VersusBU1

[pikapeppa]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fasta vass,” Fenris muttered. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Kadan’?” he said quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” Fenris said. 

“Hmm,” Dorian said noncommittally. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bull gave Dorian a patient look. “Dorian…”

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

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

Hawke and Varric grimaced awkwardly, and Solas narrowed his eyes. Fenris gave Dorian an arch look. “You really wish to speak of free will in Tevinter to two former slaves?” he said flatly. 

Dorian frowned, then dropped his gaze and inspected his fingernails casually. “Fair enough, I suppose.”

Gatt unfolded his arms. “I’m not here to convert anyone. All I care about is stopping this red lyrium from reaching Minrathous.” He looked at Fenris. “If this new form of lyrium helps them seize power in Tevinter, the war with the Qunandar could get worse.”

Bull grunted in agreement. “With this stuff, the Vints could make their slaves into an army of magical freaks.”

A crawling sort of discomfort crept down the back of Fenris’s neck at this description, but he forced himself not to react as Bull kept talking. “We could lose Seheron and see a giant Tevinter army come marching back down here.”

“The Ben-Hassrath agree,” Gatt said. “That’s why we’re here.” He folded his arms again and looked at Fenris. “Our dreadnought is safely out of view, and out of range of any Venatori mages on shore. We’ll need to eliminate the Venatori, then signal the dreadnought so it can come in and take out the smuggler ship.”

Fenris narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “You know the Inquisition has destroyed various other red lyrium operations already,” he said. “If you had passed on your information through Bull as usual, we could have dealt with this on our own. Why did the qunari want to be involved?”

“You could have destroyed one shipment, sure,” Gatt said. “But the Venatori would have seen you coming. They would schedule a new shipment for later, and our spies might not know when or where. This is risky, yes, but it’s our best chance to destroy the shipping operation permanently.” He raised his eyebrows at Fenris. “Are you reconsidering, Inquisitor? This is what an alliance with the qunari requires.”

Fenris frowned. Didn’t Gatt know he didn’t want an alliance with the qunari? “You are aware–” 

Bull clapped Fenris on the shoulder. “I dunno,” he interrupted. “I’ve never liked covering a dreadnought run. Too many ways for crap to go wrong.” He frowned. “If our scouts underestimated enemy numbers, we’re dead. If we can’t lock down the Venatori mages, the ship is dead. It’s risky.”

Gatt frowned up at him. “Riskier than letting red lyrium into Minrathous?”

Fenris looked at Bull as well. “Do you want to proceed?”

Bull’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but he nodded. “Sure, boss. It’s what we’re here for.” 

Gatt nodded in satisfaction. “My agents suggested two possible locations the Venatori may be camped to guard the shore.” He turned and pointed to two short hills on opposite sides of the beach below. “There, and there. We’ll need to split up and hit both at once.”

Bull looked down at Fenris. “I’ll come with you, boss. Krem can lead the Chargers to the other spot.” He looked at Gatt. “I’ll talk strategy with my boys for a minute.”

Gatt nodded and wandered off to keep an eye on the Venatori’s movements. When he was out of earshot, Fenris frowned at Bull. “You didn’t tell him that I don’t plan to ally with the qunari.”

Bull scratched his chin. “I might have left that out of my report, yeah.”

Hawke raised her eyebrows. “Oh shit. We’re tricking the qunari? The last time we tried that, someone important lost their head.” She frowned at Fenris and shifted closer to him. “No fucking way I’m letting that happen to you.”

“Hey now, it won’t come to that,” Bull said calmly. He gave Fenris a frank look. “You know the qunari don’t negotiate. It’s not our way. But we all want the same thing: to stop the red lyrium from getting to the Imperium.” He hooked his thumbs into his belt. “I’m just making sure we all get there smoothly.” 

Fenris folded his arms and gave Bull an appraising look. “You lied to the Ben-Hassrath to protect the Inquisition,” he said. 

“Not a lie. An omission,” Bull said patiently. 

Varric chuckled ruefully. “If we get out of this one alive, I’ll have to add that to my list of tricky loopholes to use when confronted by an angry qunari.”

Hawke, meanwhile, was grinning at Bull. “You tricky silver-tongued bastard,” she said gleefully. She poked Bull playfully in the arm. “I knew you had a soft spot for all of us.”

Bull shrugged casually, and Fenris continued to study him in silence. Finally Bull raised one eyebrow. “So. We getting on with this or not?” he asked. 

Fenris nodded, then gestured to the Chargers. “By all means. Debrief your men. We will wait here.”

Bull nodded. “Thanks, boss.” He walked away to join the Chargers.

Fenris pensively studied Bull and the Chargers for a moment. Once again, Bull was showing a striking disparity between his claims of qunari loyalty and his vashoth-like actions. 

Dorian was also watching Bull with a small frown. “That was… unexpected,” he said. 

Fenris made a little noise of acknowledgement, but Varric shrugged. “Not that unexpected, really,” he said. “He’s always given the Inquisition a bit of a leg up in those meetings he has with Nightingale. Gives her just a little more information than she gives him, that kind of thing.”

Fenris looked at him in surprise. “How do you know that?”

Varric smirked and tapped his nose. “A clever dwarf never tells his secrets.”

Fenris huffed. “I will take that to mean you occasionally have tea with our spymaster.”

He shrugged and tucked his hands in his pockets. “What can I say? She likes my stories.”

Fenris and Dorian chuckled. Then Fenris looked around curiously. Where had Hawke gone? She’d been standing here a moment ago.

He frowned. Bull was there with the Chargers, and Solas was speaking with Cole off to the side while Toby pranced around them trying to get Cole’s attention–

Then he spotted her standing with Gatt. He released a little breath, then wandered over to join them. 

Gatt was explaining his reasons for adhering to the Qun. “... as a way of life, the simplicity – the fairness of it – is something I cherish. The lack of identity, though…” He shrugged. “I’ve struggled with myself.”

Hawke nodded. “Our friend Tallis said something similar. Right, Fenris?” she said as he sidled up to her. “She said it was hard following the Qun when you weren’t born into it.”

Gatt nodded. “When I first joined the Qun, I had a temper. Bull’s nickname for me comes from ‘gaatlok’, the explosive powder in qunari canons. I was so angry when I was first freed. I wanted revenge.”

Fenris nodded an acknowledgement. That was a familiar feeling.

Gatt went on. “I wanted to find my family, still enslaved in Minrathous. I thought about leaving when the Qun didn’t tell me what I wanted to hear, but I didn’t.”

“How come?” Hawke asked.

“The qunari were always ready to listen. To teach,” Gatt said. “They cared for me as much as one of their own. And if I leave, the parts of the Qun that I don’t like are never going to change.”

“The Qun will never change,” Fenris said. 

Gatt gave him a quizzical frown, and Fenris folded his arms. “The Qun is a moral system premised on the idea of a natural order that can’t be flouted. That idea is rooted throughout your entire society. You think such a thing can change?”

Gatt frowned, but he seemed more curious than angry. “What do you know about it?” he asked. “Hissrad said you were a slave, and you were on Seheron too. What happened to you?”

Fenris unfolded his arms. He was surprised Bull hadn’t told him. “I was almost killed defending my master,” he said. “I was taken in by the fog warriors. I fought by their side for a time.”

Gatt’s eyebrows shot up. “The fog warriors? Vashedan. That’s… they’re… a force to be reckoned with,” he said slowly.

Fenris nodded, not keen to get into the details.

Gatt eyed him cautiously, then lifted his chin. “Well, you’re not one of us. You don’t understand. You only know the parts you’ve heard from sneaking around and listening in.” 

Fenris eyed him stonily. If Gatt wanted to assume Fenris only knew pieces of the Qun from spying with the fog warriors, that was his assumption. “And you only know the parts that are relevant to your position as a spy,” he replied. “No qunari is privy to every element of the Qun. ‘A tool knows only its purpose’, they say. Isn’t that so?”

Gatt narrowed his eyes. “You’d really look down on us for wanting something better than slavery?”

“I would never look down on a slave for wanting more than the hand life has dealt them,” he said. “But the Qun is not better, not truly. It is slavery of a different type.” He shrugged. “Mindless obedience is never justified, no matter the philosophy behind it.”

“Tell that to your soldiers,” Gatt said sagely. “I guarantee that every one of them has mindlessly followed an order during their time with your Inquisition.”

Fenris frowned but didn’t reply. Unfortunately, Gatt was probably not wrong. Despite the countless battles Fenris had been a part of, he had never been a soldier. He couldn’t fathom what that kind of servitude by choice was like. 

Hawke coughed delicately. “So, Gatt. You and Bull seem very friendly. You’ve known each other for a long time, I take it?”

“He led the group that freed me,” Gatt said, to Fenris’s surprise. “I was a magister’s slave, and when the magister went to Seheron, he brought me along. For company.”

Hawke winced at his implication. “Oh. Fuck.” She shot Fenris an uncomfortable look, and Fenris shrugged grimly. Danarius had not been unique in his enjoyment of that particular form of abuse.

Gatt nodded neutrally. “Iron Bull and his men attacked my master’s ship and killed him, as well as the soldiers. Bull set me free.”

“Wow,” Hawke said softly. She looked at Fenris. “He never talks about this stuff, hey? It’s always ‘this type of ale, that redhead in the kitchen, that big grim battle in Seheron’. He didn’t even tell us that he saved Krem’s life. Kremmy told us that himself.”

Gatt gave her a tiny smile. “That’s how he is, isn’t he?” He huffed. “Sure, Bull. Share the secret Ben-Hassarath reports, but keep that bit where you saved the elf boy to yourself.”

Fenris frowned. “You speak as though Bull hasn’t been passing on information about the Inquisition as well. That is how we’re all here, after all.”

“I’m not saying he hasn’t,” Gatt said. “But the Ben-Hassrath aren’t pleased with how forthcoming Bull has been with your lot.” He shrugged. “But he’s one of their best agents. They trust him enough to accept how he joined the Inquisition, even if they don’t like it. Besides, they hate to discard a tool that might still have some use left in it. That’s why I have a job.”

Hawke grimaced. “And it really doesn’t bother you to be seen as a tool?”

“Every qunari has a place and a purpose,” Gatt said seriously.

That doesn’t answer Hawke’s question, though, Fenris thought. But there was no point arguing when a qunari’s mind was made. 

“Come,” he said to Hawke and Gatt. “We should move on.”

They gathered the others and made their way over to Bull, who was just finishing his debrief with the Chargers. “Get in close and take their enchanter down before he takes over the battlefield,” he was telling Krem and the others. 

Skinner chuckled. “He’ll be dead before he knows it,” she purred.

Bull nodded and idly scratched his ear. “Just… pay attention, all right?” he said. “The Vints want this red lyrium shipment bad.”

“Yes, I know,” Krem drawled. “Thanks, Mother.”

Bull gave him a chiding look. “Qunari don’t have mothers, remember?”

Fenris gave Bull a quizzical glance. It was unusual for Bull not to respond to Krem’s sass with a clever comment of his own. 

Bull was eyeing the Chargers more sternly than usual, and Fenris was reminded of Bull’s concerns about the risks involved in this mission. Krem also seemed to notice Bull’s concern; he straightened up and nodded sharply. “We’ll be fine, Chief.” 

Bull nodded in return. “All right, Chargers. Horns up!”

“Horns up!” Krem and the others shouted. 

Bull finally smiled. “Hit ‘em hard and hit ‘em fast,” he declared. “When this is over, drinks are on me.”

Krem grinned. “You’ve got it, Chief.” He turned to the rest of the mercenary troupe. “Chargers, double time. Let’s move!” With a quick salute to Fenris, Krem and the others jogged off toward the hill on the north side of the beach. 

Gatt gave Bull a knowing look. “You gave your Chargers the easier target.” 

“You think?” Bull said mildly.

Gatt raised his eyebrows even higher. “Lower and farther from the smugglers’ ship? It’s much less likely to be heavily defended.”

Bull elbowed him playfully. “Suppose we’ll do the heavy lifting, then. Just like old times.”

Gatt chuckled. He and Bull continued to joke together in the manner of old friends as they led the way toward the second area that Gatt had pointed out as a likely Venatori camp.

Solas and Dorian fell into some sort of magical discussion while Varric started telling Cole a story about their escapades back in Kirkwall, and Hawke linked her arm with Fenris’s. When they were lagging behind the others, she squeezed his arm gently. 

“You know Bull didn’t mean you, right?” she said quietly.

He gave her a quizzical look, and she pulled a little face. “With that… that comment he made. About the lyrium and the slaves.”

Fenris’s stomach lurched at the reminder. “Ah. The comment about magical freaks, you mean. How could I forget?” he said dryly.

Hawke squeezed his arm again. “Yes, that. You’re not a magical freak,” she said. 

He shook his head slightly. “On the contrary. I am exactly the sort of nightmarish magical freak the qunari dread the most.” He glanced at his lyrium-lined palms, the left one with its ever-present sickly green glow. “It is a wonder they are willing to treat with us. With me,” he corrected. “I would think they would sooner incapacitate me and sew my mouth shut than work together.”

“They can try. I won’t let them set foot anywhere near you,” she said belligerently.

Fenris gave her a small smile, and her expression softened into something even sadder than before. “You’re not a freak,” she insisted.

“Aren’t I, though?” he said. “I am the only person alive with these hated marks under his skin. A uniquely crafted weapon, if you will. And with the added curse of the anchor...”

Hawke pulled him to a stop. “You’re not a weapon, Fenris,” she said fiercely. “That’s what Danarius wanted you to be, but you’re more than that. You know that.” 

He ran a hand over his hood and sighed. “I know,” he said softly. “But—” 

“No,” she interrupted. “No buts. You’re perfect.”

He scoffed, and Hawke pinched his arm. “I mean it,” she insisted. “You’re perfect exactly the way you are, tattoos and all.” She ran her hand over his palm. “You know, sometimes I…” She trailed off and shrugged. “Ah, never mind.”

He curled his fingers over her hand. “Speak, Hawke. You don’t need to mince your words with me.”

She grimaced. “It’s going to sound so selfish.”

“Tell me,” he said quietly.

She licked her lips nervously, then looked him in the face. “I like your tattoos,” she said bluntly. “Not necessarily the tattoos themselves, although they do actually outline your muscles in a nice way and they make your skin look all lovely and tan—” 

He rolled his eyes, but Hawke took his hands and pressed on regardless. “I’m not happy that you got them, and I fucking hate that you suffered, but I… if you hadn’t gotten the tattoos, we would never have met. You’d probably still be in Tevinter. I mean, I don’t blame you if you wish everything had been different, but...” 

He squeezed her hands. “It’s all right,” he said quietly. “I have thought about this myself.” 

Her whiskey-coloured eyes were bright and hopeful. “You have?” she asked.

He nodded. “When I was forced to stand at Danarius’s side, I never expected the worst part of my life to set the course for finding the best. But that is what happened.” He took a step closer to her. “I would remove the lyrium marks if I had the choice, but… without them, I would never have ended up in Seheron. I would never have been able to fight my way across Thedas.” He stroked her cheekbone with his thumb. “We would never have met.”  

She leaned into him and curled her fists against his abdomen. “And wouldn’t that have been a tragedy?” she whispered. 

He smiled faintly at her. “It would. A tragedy worthy of Varric’s writing prowess, even.”

She beamed at him, and he gently kissed her lips before stepping away. “Come. We should join the others before they destroy these Venatori without us.”

The rest of the group was about twenty paces ahead, taking cover behind an outcropping of rock as they watched a small camp of Venatori up ahead. The Venatori seemed to be keeping a lookout over the beach, exactly as Gatt had predicted. 

Bull turned to Fenris as he and Hawke joined them. “There are only seven of them,” he said quietly to Fenris. “Probably best if we go in quietly, huh?”

Fenris nodded. “Stealth would be best. We don’t want them to alert the others. Varric, Cole and I will lead the attack. You and Gatt remain nearby in case we need your help.” He gestured for Cole to approach. “Stay hidden. Do not let them see you coming.” 

Cole nodded. “They won’t know until it’s done. It hurts less that way.” Then he turned to Gatt. “Heart hammering, brush of breath at the base of my neck. He licks his thumb before turning the page.” He gave Gatt a vacant little smile. “He never finished. You don't have a demon inside you. You don't have to wonder anymore.”

Gatt recoiled from him, and Bull clicked his tongue. “Cole, knock it off. People who follow the Qun get nervous around demons, remember?”

Gatt glared at Bull. “How can you work with a demon?” he demanded.

Bull patted Cole’s shoulder. “He’s all right.” He jerked his head at Fenris. “Come on, boss, are we ready?”

“Soon,” Fenris said. He looked at Dorian, Hawke and Solas. “Magical attacks will draw too much attention. Remain here and stick to barriers for now. I will signal if we need you.”

They nodded, and Fenris and the others fanned out around the camp. Soon, they were in position: Varric was poised near an elevated ridge of rock with Bianca in hand, and Fenris, Bull, Gatt, Cole and Toby were arranged around the camp. A moment later, a soldier at the periphery of the camp stiffened, then slumped lifelessly to the ground without a sound. 

Cole, Fenris thought. A moment later, another man at the edge of the camp dropped dead with a crossbow bolt in his throat, perfectly aimed to hit right between his gorget and his chestplate. 

Five men were left, including the group’s mage. Fenris crept closer to the camp until he was poised behind the mage. He carefully activated his lyrium marks, then stood up and phased his fists through the mage’s throat. 

The mage jolted in shock, but couldn’t utter a sound: Fenris was squeezing his windpipe from within so he could neither breathe nor scream. Less than a dozen heartbeats later, the man was limp and dead, and Fenris silently lowered him to the ground before removing his incorporeal hand from the inside of the mage’s throat.

“Attack!” someone yelled. “Show yourselves!”

Fenris looked up. One of the three remaining Venatori was looking right at him.

The Venatori’s eyes widened. “The Inquis–” He broke off and shuddered. A second later, a curtain of blood began pouring down the front of his neck. 

He fell bonelessly to the ground, and Cole suddenly appeared just behind him. One of the remaining Venatori stumbled back in shock, but before he could utter a word, three bolts slammed into his chest. 

There was only one remaining Venatori. He tried to run, but Fenris phased in front of him and slid his glowing fist through the man’s ribcage. 

The man’s eyes widened in terror, then went blank as Fenris crushed his heart. Fenris dropped the dead body and looked up to find Cole standing in front of him. 

He blinked. “They’re second nature now, but not your nature. Killing to survive, killing the killers, but it’s not who you are. They’re not you.”

Fenris sighed heavily. Of course Cole had been listening in to his and Hawke’s conversation about his tattoos. “I know that,” he grunted. “But I am stuck with them, so I make the best of it.”

Cole nodded. Then Varric, Bull and Gatt joined them, and Bull patted Cole on the shoulder again. “See?” he said to Gatt. “He’s a squirrely one, but he plays nice.”

Gatt eyed Cole mistrustfully, then stepped close to the edge of the cliff and pointed. “There’s the smuggler ship. They’re getting ready to cast off. I’m going to signal the dreadnought.” He pulled an alchemical flare from his belt, then set it off. 

Hawke, Dorian, Solas and Toby jogged over to join them, and Bull pointed across the beach to the rise where the Chargers were positioned. “Chargers already sent their signal up. See ‘em down there?”

Gatt shot him a smirk. “I knew you gave them the easier job.”

Bull smiled and shrugged. Then, through the fog that wreathed the roiling waters of the Waking Sea, an enormous qunari dreadnought appeared. 

“There’s the dreadnought,” Bull announced. He tucked his thumbs into his belt. “Ah, that brings back memories.”

Hawke looked at Fenris and Varric with wide eyes. “So wait. That’s what Isabela was fleeing from with that stupid Tome of Koslun?”

Fenris shook his head ruefully, and Varric chuckled. “Of course it was. Go big or go home, right?” 

“She’s lucky that storm hit and destroyed the dreadnought,” Bull said. “They would have sunk her ship for sure.”

Hawke playfully elbowed his hip. “Did you use that for pillow talk with her? I bet that went over real well.”

Bull smirked. Then they all looked up as the dreadnought sent a heavy load of projectiles at the smuggler ship. 

A huge bloom of fire engulfed the deck of the smugglers’ ship, and Bull chuckled. “Nice one.”

“Oh shit,” Varric said suddenly. 

Fenris looked up, then straightened in alarm: a force of more than a dozen Venatori were marching across the beach toward the low rise where the Chargers were positioned. 

“Fuck,” Hawke cursed. “They have four mages with them. Dalish can’t hold them off on her own.” 

“Crap,” Bull breathed.

Fenris looked up at him. His one remaining eye was wide with undisguised worry.

“Your men need to hold that position, Bull,” Gatt said firmly. 

Bull shot him a sharp look. “They do that, they’re dead.”

“We can help them!” Hawke said. She patted Bull’s arm urgently. “Come on, if we hurry–”

“We are out of range,” Solas told her. “By the time we get close enough, it will be too late.”

“Don’t do this, Hissrad,” Gatt said loudly. 

Fenris looked at them. Bull was running his thumb over his warhorn.

Gatt glared at him. “If you call a retreat, the Venatori will retake the smuggler ship and the dreadnought is dead,” he said. “You’d be throwing away an alliance between the Inquisition and the qunari. You’d be declaring yourself Tal-Vashoth! With all you’ve given the Inquisition, half the Ben-Hassrath think you’ve betrayed us already!”

“They’re my men,” Bull snapped. 

“I know,” Gatt said. “But you need to do what’s right. For this alliance, and for the Qun.”

The Venatori on the beach were swiftly coming within range of the Chargers. Bull’s knuckles were white around his warhorn. 

“Bull,” Fenris said.

Bull looked at him, and Fenris raised his eyebrows. “You know what to do,” he said.

“Don’t!” Gatt snapped. 

Fenris gave him a sharp look. “The Chargers don’t belong to the Qun. They’re Bull’s men. It is his choice.” He looked at Bull once more. “You know what to do.”

Bull took a long, deep breath. He brought the warhorn to his lips and blew. 

The retreat signal echoed through the fog and rain. A moment later, Hawke clapped her hands. “They’re falling back!” She crouched down and ruffled Toby’s neck. “They’re falling back, yes they are,” she crooned to the mabari. “You can go lick Skinner’s face and make her smile for the second time in her life!”

Gatt, meanwhile, was staring at Bull as though he’d never seen him before. “All these years, Hissrad,” he said in disbelief. “All these years, and you throw away all that you are. For what? For them?” He gestured angrily at Fenris.

Bull bowed his head and didn’t reply, but before anyone else could speak, Cole appeared at Bull’s side. “Raw and hot, trying to open it, but just darkness. How bad, how bad? No, done now, no sense worrying.” He blinked up at Bull. “The man they hurt coughs, shaking, but sits up. Eyes wide. No, not a man: a woman, clothes torn. ‘You're safe now. I'm Iron Bull. What do you want me to call you?’"

“Yeah,” Bull said quietly. “Thanks, Cole.”

Gatt glared at Cole, then looked at Fenris. “I think it goes without saying that there will be no alliance between our peoples.”

Fenris nodded. “Understood.”

Gatt gave Bull one last resentful glance, then strode away. Varric rubbed his hands together. “So. I guess the rest of us should take out as many of those Venatori as we can, huh?”

“We should,” Hawke said with relish. She wiggled her eyebrows at Fenris. “Can we?”

“Yes,” Fenris said. He gave her a warning look. “Prioritize your own defense. We will join you shortly.”

She batted her eyelashes at him. “You know I love it when you’re bossy.” 

He gave her a chiding look. She cackled and punched Varric’s shoulder, then hooked her hand through Solas’s elbow. “Come on, boys, kill count competition! Varric, I’m going to beat you this time, I swear…” 

Fenris smirked as she dragged Solas away with Varric at her side. Then Dorian sidled up beside him and Bull. “Well, this has all been a waste of time,” he complained. “If I’d known there would be so little for me to do, I would have stayed nice and dry at home.”

Bull chuckled and pulled Dorian against his side. “Ah, come on. You couldn’t stay away, big guy.”

Dorian wrinkled his nose and tried – very ineffectively – to push Bull away. “Vishante kaffas. Don’t you ever bathe?”

“You like it,” Bull said smugly. 

Cole appeared beside him and opened his mouth, but Dorian pointed at him. “Not a single word,” he snapped. He wrested himself out of Bull’s grip, then took Cole by the arm and frog-marched him away in the direction that Hawke and the others had gone. 

Fenris bit back a smirk, then glanced up at Bull. Bull’s smile was fading as he watched the dreadnought. The Venatori mages on the beach were gearing up to attack the qunari ship, and Fenris could see the growing mass of magic at their hands as they prepared their spells. 

Bull sighed. “No way they’ll get out of range. Won’t be long now.”

Fenris nodded an acknowledgement. In the space of a few minutes, the dreadnought would explode. “We will destroy the Venatori, at least,” he said. “And that shipment of red lyrium will sink.”

Bull shot him a sideways glance. “You aren’t bothered about losing the lead on where the smugglers are getting their product?”

Fenris gave him a quizzical look, then remembered that Bull hadn’t seen been to the thaig in the Hinterlands with them. “We discovered the root source of the red lyrium. The illicit trade should be curtailed. Catching the smugglers will be a job for Leliana and Josephine’s contacts now.”

Bull wilted slightly. “Crap. All of this really was for nothing, then.”

Fenris turned to face him. “You didn’t know what we had discovered. If Cremisius and the others had died, that would have been for nothing.”

Bull gave him a tiny smile. “Fond of my boys, are you?”

Fenris soberly returned his gaze. “You have guarded Hawke and Varric well during your time with the Inquisition,” he said seriously. “You should protect your own family as well.”

Bull eyed him silently for a moment, then looked at the dreadnought once more. The enormous ship was wreathed in flames, and more fireballs still were flying at it from the mages on the shore.

“Qunari don’t have families, you know,” he said. 

“I know,” Fenris replied.

Bull glanced at him once more. They gazed at each other silently for a moment, and Bull’s lips finally lifted in a smile. 

A moment later, the dreadnought exploded. But a volley of magical attacks and crossbow bolts were raining on the Venatori from the cover of the trees. A moment later, a cry of “Horns up!” rose from the treeline, and Krem and the Chargers burst out of the forest and bolted across the beach toward the bewildered Venatori.

Bull clapped Fenris on the shoulder, sending him stumbling forward a step. “Come on, boss,” he said. “Let’s go give my boys a hand.”

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

Later that night at the Blades of Hessarians’ compound, a victory party was in full swing. 

Miraculously, the rain had slowed down a faint mist rather than the usual downpour, so Krem and the rest of the Chargers had built a big bonfire. Bull had managed to procure a barrel of Chasind sack mead, which the Chargers had promptly tapped, and everyone was enjoying themselves immensely in the wake of the Venatori defeat. 

Bull and the Chargers were howling some sort of tavern song, and Hawke was laughing and trying to sing along while Varric played cards with Solas and Dorian. Fenris, meanwhile, was in one of the cabins finishing up his reports to Skyhold, as well as a letter to Isabela warning her to keep an eye out for red lyrium smugglers on the Eastern Seas. 

He sighed and flexed his cramped fingers, then sat back in his chair. “I know you’re there,” he said to the empty cabin. “Stop lurking.”

Cole appeared in a cross-legged position on the table. “You’re very tired. You’ll feel better if you eat,” he said. “I’ll bring you something.”

“I can fetch something myself,” Fenris said. He gestured impatiently at Cole. “Get off the table. You must remember to sit in chairs.” 

Cole clambered carefully off of the table, and Fenris eyed him for a moment before speaking. “I want you to stop listening in to my private conversations with Hawke,” he said.

“I don’t try to listen,” Cole explained. “The listening happens. Feelings flying free like birds: hope and healing, but just a little hurt to hook me close.”

Fenris ran a frustrated hand through his hair. Cole never seemed to listen when people told him to stop picking apart their thoughts. If Fenris wanted Cole to stop spying on him and Hawke, he’d have to find a way to say it so Cole would understand. 

He rubbed his mouth for a moment, then looked at Cole once more. “When Hawke and I are talking alone, she… she heals my hurts,” he said slowly. “She helps me more than you can. We don’t need your help.” 

Cole blinked. “Yes, Hawke helps,” he said. “Love lifting the pain, making it lighter and easier. But the fear is always there.”

Fenris frowned. “Fear?”

“You’re afraid she’ll die,” Cole said softly. “She’s afraid for you, too. She meant what she said: she would die for you. And so would you.” He folded his legs comfortably on the chair. “It’s all right. You don’t need to die. I can keep you safe.” 

Fenris stared at Cole for a moment. Then he swallowed hard and rose from his chair. “Stop listening to our private conversations,” he said brusquely, and he left the cabin. 

He stepped out into the mist and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. A moment later, Solas sidled up to him. 

“There is an elven artifact in a cave north of the river,” he said to Fenris. “I would like to inspect it.” 

Fenris nodded distractedly. “Do you, er, require an escort?”

“No, thank you,” Solas said. “I am fine on my own. I will set wards.”

Fenris raised his eyebrows. “You’re going to stay overnight?”

Solas nodded. “The Veil in the area will be weak before I activate the artifact. I will slip through easily in my dreams.”

Of course, Fenris thought. He shrugged indifferently. “All right. We’ll depart for Skyhold when you return in the morning.” 

Solas nodded his thanks. Then he folded his hands behind his back. “It seems the Iron Bull is our true ally now.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “I suppose so, yes.”

Solas tilted his head. “You gave him the choice whether to call the retreat or not.”

Fenris frowned slightly. “Yes,” he said slowly.

“And if he had chosen to sacrifice his men? What then?” Solas asked. 

Fenris narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t sure where Solas was going with this. “He wasn’t going to sacrifice his men.”

“You were certain of that?” Solas asked.

“I have known qunari,” Fenris said irritably. “I have seen the commitment of the ones who truly follow the Qun. The Iron Bull has never been one of them, not since we have known him.”

Solas nodded slowly. “Did you ever consider joining the Qun?”

Fenris shot him a sharp look, but Solas’s expression was benign and curious. Fenris heaved a heavy sigh. “I considered it,” he admitted. “And I understand why many slaves are won over by it. The promise of equality is a temptation that many can’t resist. But it is a false promise,” he said firmly. “The Qun is a doctrine. A school of thought in every sense of the word. They are taught what to think, not how to think.”

“Yes,” Solas said emphatically. “I agree completely.”

 Fenris gave him an odd look. He wasn’t sure why Solas seemed so pleased by his answer. 

He shrugged and folded his arms. “My thoughts have been tampered with enough. I won’t have them policed as well.”

Solas’s smile widened. Then he took a step back. “In any case, I should be off. Thank you for the talk, Fenris.”

Fenris nodded in farewell and watched curiously as Solas pulled up his hood and left the compound. Then, at long last, he trudged over to the smaller fire where Hawke was sitting with Varric and Dorian.

“Our wise and unstylish leader joins us at last,” Dorian announced as Fenris sat between Hawke and Varric. “We saved this for you.” He handed Fenris a tin camping plate with a generous piece of roasted ram meat.

Fenris gratefully took the plate as he sat beside Hawke. “Thank you,” he said. “Is there any wine?”

Dorian chuckled and handed him an open bottle of red wine. “Do be careful, Fenris. Your Tevinter is showing.”

Fenris grunted and washed down a big bite of ram. Then Hawke draped her arms around his neck. “Remember that first time we met the Arishok and you just sprang it on us that you could speak Qunlat?” she asked.

Her speech was lazy with booze. Fenris smirked at her. “I do remember,” he said. “You offered to strip me with your teeth immediately after.”

Dorian snorted, and Hawke gasped. “I did not! I waited until we left the compound!”

“You didn’t,” Fenris drawled.

“You really didn’t,” Varric added. 

Hawke blinked at them. “Oh, no, I didn’t, did I? Oh dear.” She laughed and playfully fanned herself. “Well, what can I say? I can’t resist a man who’s got a talent for tongues.”

Varric groaned and pointedly turned away to face Dorian instead. Fenris chuckled and shook his head. “You are incorrigible,” he said quietly.

“Aw, thank you,” she simpered. Then she shuffled even closer to him. “So? Was it effective?”

He took another small bite of ram. “Was what effective?” he asked.

“My oh-so-clever line about wanting to strip you with my teeth,” she said. “Did it make you fall in love with me?”

Fenris swallowed his meat and gazed fondly at her cheeky smile. By the time that first visit to the Arishok had taken place, he and Hawke had known each other for three years or so, and his love for her had been swelling silently in his guarded heart for more than two of them. 

“I was already in love with you,” he told her. “You should be asking how that terrible line did not put me off.” He took another bite of roasted meat. 

Hawke didn’t reply, and Fenris glanced at her. She was beaming at him, and even with the burnished glow of the fire, he could see that her cheeks were turning pink.

He raised one eyebrow. “Why are you blushing?”

She laughed and patted her pinkened cheeks. “I don’t mean to! It’s just nice to hear.” She gave him a coy look. “I’m a sucker for your smooth talk.”

“Then I shall endeavour to continue such talk,” he replied.

She giggled, then kissed his cheek. “I was in love with you too by then,” she whispered. “Completely head over heels.” 

“I know you were,” he said softly. 

She grinned at him, and he smiled back at her. Then, for the umpteenth time that night, the Chargers raucously burst into song. 

No one can beat the Chargers, 'cause we'll hit you where it hurts Unless you know a tavern with loose cards and looser skirts! For every bloody battlefield, we'll gladly raise a cup No matter what tomorrow holds, our horns be pointing up!

The Chargers finished their song, then burst into cheering and stamping their feet, and Hawke laughed and cheered along with them. On Varric’s other side, Dorian tutted. “Such uncouth behaviour,” he sniffed. 

“Yes, it is,” Fenris said. “You should go tell Bull how uncouth he is.”

Dorian cut him a suspicious look, and Fenris shrugged and sipped from the bottle of wine. Then Dorian rose from the bench. “You’re right,” he said. “I’ll tell him exactly that.” He strode away. 

Fenris, Hawke and Varric watched as Dorian stopped beside Bull and planted his hands on his hips. A second later, Bull pulled Dorian down onto his lap and kissed him, and the Chargers started hollering and stamping and cheering once more. 

Hawke burst into laughter and hugged Fenris around the neck once more. “You’re such a fucking romantic,” she accused.

Fenris smirked and shrugged unconcernedly. “Romance is not only for dithering ladies in frilly dresses.”

Varric rolled his eyes. “You and the Seeker need to spend less time together.”

Hawke laughed brightly, and Fenris chuckled and took another bite of his dinner. The fire flickered and sparked in the damp night air, and Fenris ate his food and listened to Hawke and Varric’s banter and watched as Bull mercilessly teased Dorian and the Chargers.

A flicker of movement at the periphery of Fenris’s vision caught his attention. He lifted his head, but there was no one there.

Cole, he thought irritably. He had better not be making anyone forget anything. But he decided to let it go for tonight. 

He settled back and turned his attention to Hawke and Varric. For tonight, Fenris would just enjoy some time with his family. 

[crayonlead2-blog]

Links 12/7/18

‘They were so full of joy’: Video of 200 dolphins swimming beside B.C. ferry goes viral CTV News

Global Carbon Budget 2018 Earth System Science Data. Important.

Texas and New Mexico shale basins hold 49 years worth of oil: USGS Reuters. Let’s leave it in the ground, so we always know where to find it.

For the first time, a major US utility has committed to 100% clean energy Vox. In 2050 – 2018 = 32 years.

Investors withdraw billions from US equity funds FT

Tesla Replaces General Counsel With Seasoned Trial Lawyer WSJ. Hmm.

Facebook’s 2018 Year In Review Facebook Newsroom [sic]. Not mentioned: “Cambridge Analytica, Myanmar genocide, a 30 million user security breach, and some other insignificant things.”

Worldwide Bureaucracy Indicators (dataset) The World Bank. “The Worldwide Bureaucracy Indicators (WWBI) is a dataset on public sector employment and wages that can help researchers and development practitioners gain a better understanding of the personnel dimensions of state capability, the footprint of the public sector on the overall labor market, and the fiscal implications of the government wage bill.” A lot to unpack there, but start with the framing of “state capability” as “bureaucracy.”

What the largest sex-furniture manufacturer in the US can teach America about trade Quartz

Brexit

Brexit uncertainty makes pound ‘impossible’ to trade FT

Brexit Deal Maze (diagram) Reuters. Beautiful diagrammatic visualization, but some of the end states (new Brexit referendum, new negotiations) are imaginary, unlike others which are real possibilities (crash out, canceling Article 50, May’s deal). Perhaps readers can make other corrections.

A second Brexit referendum may push us over the edge The Times. Well worth a log-in. “The polling shifts to Remain are still small, still within the margin of error, still dependent on non-voters deciding to vote this time round.” Surely the real issue is legitimacy? If Parliament were sovereign, not just in word but in deed, there would be no need for referenda, first or second.

How US billionaires are fuelling the hard-right cause in Britain George Monbiot, Guardian

High Court agrees to hear full legal challenge of Blighty’s Snooper’s Charter The Register

How France’s Yellow Vests Are Plotting Online Bloomberg

France’s Gas Tax Disaster Shows We Can’t Save Earth by Screwing Over Poor People Gizmodo

Merkel’s party votes for new leader, and new era in Germany Reuters

Syraqistan

Meet the Senators Who Took Saudi Money The American Conservative

China

‘Shocking’ Huawei Arrest Threatens to Upend Trump-Xi Trade Truce Bloomberg

US-China tensions played no part in death of renowned Stanford professor Zhang Shoucheng, family says SCMP. Oh.

A Week In Xinjiang’s Absolute Surveillance State Palladium (via Mark Ames).

The America hawks circling Beijing FT

While Small Dairy Farms Shut Down, This Mega-Dairy Is Shipping Milk to China Civil Eats

China prepares mission to land spacecraft on moon’s far side AP

Exploring the Ecosystem of the U.S.–Mexico Border Scientific American

Mexico’s New President Restarts Investigation Into 43 Missing Students NYT

Brazil future unclear amid opposing ideologies of ministers AP

Why voters should mark ballots by hand Freedom to Tinker. There is no good reason for any election official, of any party, to defend e-voting, let alone purchase electronic voting machines.

Exclusive: Emails of top NRCC officials stolen in major 2018 hack Politico. So Crowdstrike works both sides of the street?

Democrats in Disarray

AOC continues her on-boarding process:

Our “bipartisan” Congressional orientation is cohosted by a corporate lobbyist group. Other members have quietly expressed to me their concern that this wasn’t told to us in advance.

Lobbyists are here. Goldman Sachs is here. Where‘s labor? Activists?Frontline community leaders?

— Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (@Ocasio2018) December 6, 2018

I don’t see how a good progressive like Nancy Pelosi can permit this.

Making Manchin the Ranking Member of Energy Committee Might Be a Compromise Too Far New York Magazine

Your Q Anon Exit Briefing Violent Metaphors

Jeffrey Epstein, the convicted sex offender who is friends with Donald Trump and Bill Clinton, explained Vox

USA Gymnastics files for bankruptcy after hefty lawsuits over Larry Nassar CNN

A Mysterious Imposter Account Was Used On Facebook To Drum Up Support For The Migrant Caravan Buzzfeed. More at NC here.

A Business With No End NYT

Health Care

J&J pays $360 million for illegally using a charity to pay kickbacks to Medicare patients STAT

6 metro Detroit doctors busted in $500M opioid scheme Detroit Free Press

An Ancient Case of the Plague Could Rewrite History The Atlantic

Imperial Collapse Watch

At the CIA, a fix to communications system that left trail of dead agents remains elusive Yahoo News

Class Warfare

Marriott strike yields 40 percent pay hike for Westin housekeepers San Diego Tribune

The liberal peace fallacy: violent neoliberalism and the temporal and spatial traps of state-based approaches to peace Territory, Politics, Governance

Global Wealth Report 2018: US and China in the lead Credit Suisse

The European Youth Guarantee: A systematic review of its implementation across countries International Labor Organization (UserFriendly).

Damn It All NYRB

Antidote du jour (via):

See yesterday’s Links and Antidote du Jour here.

This entry was posted in Guest Post, Links on December 7, 2018 by Lambert Strether.

About Lambert Strether

Readers, I have had a correspondent characterize my views as realistic cynical. Let me briefly explain them. I believe in universal programs that provide concrete material benefits, especially to the working class. Medicare for All is the prime example, but tuition-free college and a Post Office Bank also fall under this heading. So do a Jobs Guarantee and a Debt Jubilee. Clearly, neither liberal Democrats nor conservative Republicans can deliver on such programs, because the two are different flavors of neoliberalism (“Because markets”). I don’t much care about the “ism” that delivers the benefits, although whichever one does have to put common humanity first, as opposed to markets. Could be a second FDR saving capitalism, democratic socialism leashing and collaring it, or communism razing it. I don’t much care, as long as the benefits are delivered. To me, the key issue — and this is why Medicare for All is always first with me — is the tens of thousands of excess “deaths from despair,” as described by the Case-Deaton study, and other recent studies. That enormous body count makes Medicare for All, at the very least, a moral and strategic imperative. And that level of suffering and organic damage makes the concerns of identity politics — even the worthy fight to help the refugees Bush, Obama, and Clinton’s wars created — bright shiny objects by comparison. Hence my frustration with the news flow — currently in my view the swirling intersection of two, separate Shock Doctrine campaigns, one by the Administration, and the other by out-of-power liberals and their allies in the State and in the press — a news flow that constantly forces me to focus on matters that I regard as of secondary importance to the excess deaths. What kind of political economy is it that halts or even reverses the increases in life expectancy that civilized societies have achieved? I am also very hopeful that the continuing destruction of both party establishments will open the space for voices supporting programs similar to those I have listed; let’s call such voices “the left.” Volatility creates opportunity, especially if the Democrat establishment, which puts markets first and opposes all such programs, isn’t allowed to get back into the saddle. Eyes on the prize! I love the tactical level, and secretly love even the horse race, since I’ve been blogging about it daily for fourteen years, but everything I write has this perspective at the back of it.

Post navigation

← Brexit: Corbyn’s Cakeism; Norway Rejects “Norway” The Inconvenient Truth about Climate Change and the Economy →

Source: https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2018/12/links-12-7-18.html

[ultradavidmovestouklove-blog]

Unshakable

I read this text on Escape recently.  It’s by a French Philosopher (a distinction they give a theorist after the Greek level of septuagenarian) named Emmanuel Levinas.  He was commenting on the times.  The year of its initial publishing does that very thing.  It set something up.  It rendered me the above term about the determination.  In philosophemes there are many termes (French) ---- ends, even to the ends of man.  Business-ready individuals bud at the terms, too.  They form use-cyclical specialization.  The pay period recognizes many end-uses.

For the last several months which depart from the greater portion of a year that began last summer, I have had this edge.  I was trained once to Think at the Edge.  It’s about forming ratios of facets that go together to describe the edge one is on.  This edge was the edge of oblivion at one point, upon another occasion is re-cycles and uses escape.  Back then was now over again.  This is a wisdom of no escape.

Except Levinas provides you with the opportunity to let it off you.  Perhaps all ove the duality of letting vs. going, or letting go, is a synthesis that is entirely French.  In his time people were evading.  Trumps tax equation to seek out the havens and decommission frauds of all kinds in the name of evasions terms a relevance in political news.  Politics is about war though.  Philosophy is about barbarians.  Levinas is through with ontologism.  There is this lyric by Morrissey that goes, “Call me morbid, call me pale, I spent six years on your trail, six long years on your traaaa-ail.”  Levinas worked through Heidegger and the totalitarian state of government.  Much of his writing through Heidegger because he does write through him, as he was a direct student of Husserl.  Heidegger maybe even evaded Husserl in Being and Time.  Others contend this being there of, “Are you kidding me?”  Husserl gave him the world.

I listed ontologism.  Levinas even considers the state of the genus.  Introduction to Linguistics would bring up phylum and genus after the ontic in Language.  Many of us lost it on being.  Levinas in stating ontologism brings up a set of beliefs he formed and dissolves into his own escape.  They escape him because of language.  Heidegger dwelled there.  Being there with language was very semi-automatic for the theories that I prepared for.  Semiotics are more deafening in fact.  Semi-audiology I still seek.  Levinas is really quietly pissed off at his work because of this wisdom.  However, the long essay provides this one great set of qualia.  One can achieve a level of indefectible.  I’m not going to escape to England.  Except there are little earthquakes everywhere and a few people asking me about when I’m going to love myself as much as they do.  Though they don’t write, the complex of that question of rhetorical response included juts out into whom you see next.  Its determinations are always estranged by the figures of beings that don’t line up with attractive modes of getting to an earth violence sharp enough, my grandma said sharp when you dress that way you can know, to historicize.  In the background this album by Tori Amos brings me to England.  There are all these tremors and seismotranscendents answering that question at me, but she continues that things will change so fast and none of them write me about the white horse that will help me make up my mind.

Avoidance is a category of PTSD.  I was diagnosed with that years back and suffered and pained a very serious mental struggle that altogether psychophysiologized so wasn’t as psychotic as it was psychosocial without the Other in presence.  Becoming disabled took longer.  It takes 18 years to fly to the sun.  How many children voyaged to adulthood that way?  What have you become and has the pedagogy of shame shown you that often you don’t get to choose what form you take about the category of identity that shapes your worldview.  After I signed up for SSDI, a form of social security, I was shaped without circulation in my legs, a lot of stammering self-spee(ch) that wanted to be argumentative which amounted to scattered lonely discourse, and then I went through periods of time with severities of Tibetan collapsed skull.  It was really beautiful though staving off the escape but storing up what does.  Evasion is like the void which in Hegel resets the show of phenomenology.  Tibetan flyers or rocketeers, these soul figures flew to my window to take me away for what I was undergoing.  It turned out to annhilate me.  There were elephants that stampeded the Merrimack River in my daydreams.  i got so close to a hawk at one time that I nearly handled her, for deference and respect over misogyny.  A belated sequitur is that physiologized was pushed into my body before embodiment, so I was very sick all over.  In French because of precious, transcendental material (though Levinas elsewhere atheisticizes).  Atheism.  That’s the thing of amount.  It’s very surplus and through with you the -isms.  They are impossible to fixe and many want to become rather than overcome scratchbrains of belief systems that determine their historical length.  Ismus is through with, over, but not the kind that hovers and shines about man.  Doing-doing-done.  Like going-going-gone.  Passing it out.  This great teacher of aesthetics and confined by eschatologism taught me a great deal about the future when she mentioned proper nameism.  Freudianisms.  It forms a path to an end.  The thing is different than its membership of belief.  I’m unlost to school of thought and proud of deconstruction and postructuralism (an alternative spelling I choose for the abyss that maybe it has been a not yet of theory).  My teacher’s name was Sara.  I was studying surrealism that semester.  Surreal art is more alive and thinks.  In this scholarship we continue to question categories that do shake us to our core and demand over again which resupply the believing in lieu of planning that comes through the Spanish language where Sara taught me.  In another realm she is professor Nadal, which made me swim daydreams of lunar fauna that Lorca leftover from the riverbeings that never wanted to check and balance Zizek’s Occupy Towers for tenants.  He should form a tent tower move.  Except Verso publisher made it to London and a flash of the noble is his definition despite the bravado of his concurrenz.  Contanz evaded him once.  He showed me the right lights one year, and I had a minute of celebration that lasted for infinity.  I wonder its address in London, but they did this thing where we might never see each other again so traumatically that its happening outside somewhere.  The events are forming and the Other demands less belief anyway out of the transcendents chasing spirit off for more proper heading.  Common people don’t even mention cognition or thought.  Imagine little what escapes them.  Words may come out of mouths in spee as escaping language.  But you cannot.  I challenge anyone that reads this to transform into someone indefectible.  That you go because one joins you and Godspeed is near the pilgrim’s earth, and that’s the method of travel.

It shook.  I didn’t.  It’s shaking again.  I’m holding out my hand to him.  He ends it by thickening his eyes that he beholds one held out.  The politics of Deals!!!  Pfffffffffffffffffff.  There are only two sides though, and slime gets radioactive.  It can be the formation of gel, the congealing blob of shames can take you until it shook a little one over again.

You out there.  Are you there?  Do you believe in little earthquakes that happen all over a survey of uninhabitable hearings of terrain?  I don’t want to melt, so I’m going to make use of an old cybernetic trick.  Signing out.  I’ve developed a purpose in a gap of closures which is full of total truth after what I was fighting but leave unworded.  I plan to move to the United Kingdom.

[chmpn--a]

"did you have a happy childhood or are you funny?" leave garrett wylatt hawke alone

[chmpn--a]

garrett: hold the fuck up

sb: ???

garrett: i'm the fuck up

[chmpn--a]

hawke absolutely could have refused to go to skyhold. but he feels so responsible for what’s going on with corypheus that he comes out of hiding to let the world fuck him over one more time. isn’t that neat?

[chmpn--a]

TAGGED  BY : @lathsuledin --- thank you! TAGGING :  @dovwahlaan @we-are-strcng / @kroxn @serviant @knavegrin @abyssleapt & anyone who wants to do it! anyone tagged who’s already done it can ignore me. i mean, everyone can ignore me anyway, but---

—    BASICS.

▸     IS    YOUR    MUSE    TALL    /    SHORT    /    AVERAGE ? Garrett could be considered toeing the line between average and tall, standing at 6ft 1in.

▸      ARE    THEY    OKAY    WITH    THEIR    HEIGHT ? It doesn’t bother him; he has no complaints.

▸      WHAT’S    THEIR    HAIR    LIKE ? Thick, dark, and short. There’s a wave to it if he goes too long without a haircut. As for body hair --- as I’ve stated in a headcanon, he’s got chest hair that’s only rivaled by Varric’s. Just as dark as the hair on his head.

▸     DO    THEY    SPEND    A    LOT    OF    TIME    ON    THEIR    HAIR     /    GROOMING ? Not at all. He rolls out of bed and leaves the house without a single thought about it. Sometimes he runs his hands through it, which is the most styling that it gets. He only seems to groom and spend time on his beard.

▸      DOES   YOUR   MUSE   CARE   ABOUT   THEIR   APPEARANCE   /   WHAT    OTHERS    THINK ? He would say that he doesn’t and it shows.

—    PREFERENCES.

▸     INDOORS    OR    OUTDOORS ?  outdoors. ▸     RAIN    OR    SUNSHINE ?  sunshine. ▸     FOREST    OR    BEACH ?  forest. ▸     PRECIOUS    METALS    OR    GEMS ?   metals. ▸     FLOWERS    OR    PERFUMES ?  flowers. ▸     PERSONALITY    OR    APPEARANCE ?  personality. ▸     BEING    ALONE    OR    BEING    IN    A    CROWD ?  being alone. (with a friend or two.) ▸     ORDER    OR    ANARCHY ?  one isn’t fun without the other. ▸     PAINFUL    TRUTHS    OR    WHITE    LIES ?  painful truths. ▸     SCIENCE    OR    MAGIC ?  magic. ▸     PEACE    OR    CONFLICT ?  peace. ▸     NIGHT    OR    DAY ?  day. ▸     DUSK    OR    DAWN ?  dawn. ▸     WARMTH    OR    COLD ?  warmth. ▸     MANY   ACQUAINTANCES    OR    A    FEW    CLOSE    FRIENDS ?  a few close friends ▸     READING    OR    PLAYING    A    GAME ?  playing a game.

—    QUESTIONNAIRE.

▸      WHAT    ARE    SOME    OF    YOUR    MUSE’S    BAD    HABITS ? Garrett bottles and bottles and bottles. Every bad feeling he has is stuffed down and hidden away.  If he doesn’t joke his way through every day, he just might lose his mind. Sometimes he doesn’t bless people when they sneeze.

▸      HAS    YOUR    MUSE    LOST    ANYONE    CLOSE    TO    THEM ?      HOW    HAS    IT    AFFECTED    THEM ? If you take canon, then he’s lost almost everyone close to him. His father passes away because of an illness, his sister dies at the hands of an ogre, his brother gets corrupted by the Blight and the Grey Wardens take him, and his mother gets murdered. He feels like he's responsible for at least half of these losses. As stated above, he bottles. Everything is a joke. When it usually hits him that he’s alone, he tends to isolate himself and fall into a depression for a few days that he cannot be coaxed from.

▸      WHAT    ARE    SOME    FOND    MEMORIES    YOUR    MUSE    HAS ?   He has quite a few of his father. The two were close, especially because of the magical ability that they both possess/possessed. Garrett can remember the first spell that he perfected with Malcolm’s help. He can remember how Malcolm taught him how to defend himself without the use of magic. He has a few memories with Leandra, assisting in the kitchen when he was young, even if he wasn’t good at it. The Amell estate finally feeling like a home after the two of them cleaned it up was nice. He has many with the twins. They’re seven years younger than he is and he would always play with them when they were babies. And, as they got a little bit older, he’d help them prank one another.

▸     IS    IT    EASY    FOR    YOUR    MUSE    TO    KILL ? Physically, yes. He can perform fairly powerful magic, and he’s capable of wielding a sword if he needs to. Mentally, no. No one deserves to die unless they’ve done something heinous. In his line of work, though, he can’t think too much on it.

▸      WHAT’S    IT    LIKE    WHEN    YOUR    MUSE    BREAKS    DOWN ? He cries, and goes the whole nine yards. Tears, sobbing/gasping, wanting to hide away from everything. If he’s somewhere public, he gets agitated because he can’t get away. He gets quiet and uncharacteristically serious.

▸      IS    YOUR    MUSE    CAPABLE    OF    TRUSTING    SOMEONE    WITH    THEIR    LIFE ? Yes, and he does. He particularly trusts Varric this much, and Mya @dovwahlaan

▸      WHAT’S    YOUR    MUSE    LIKE    WHEN    THEY’RE    IN    LOVE ? He’s the same idiot that he’s always been, but he’s their idiot. He gets very affectionate and he’s always in their corner. There are no secrets. He’s himself around them, stopping the act that he puts on 24/7. Sometimes he’s sad. Sometimes he’s mad. Sometimes he’s this and sometimes he’s that. And they get to see it all.

[chmpn--a]

modern hawke gets a face tattoo, and it’s that damn red streak over his nose.

[chmpn--a]

i’m just gonna say it.

garrett’s got chest hair that’s only rivaled by varric’s, and a decent happy trail to boot. it’s just as dark as the hair on his head. and you’re only ever gonna see it if he’s shirtless. i will also say that he’s not all hard muscle with zero body fat. especially not after he moves into the amell estate, or during inquisition. his muscles are most prominent in his arms/back/shoulders, but he doesn’t exactly have an abdomen sculpted by the gods. idk if anyone thought that, but. it’s not a thing.

[chmpn--a]

seasonal aesthetics. repost, don’t reblog!

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑.  a chill right down to the bones.   tobogganing.  teeth chattering.  sleeping all day.   sitting by the fireplace.  spending time with family.   layered clothing.  seeing another’s breath.   loving the cold.   a state of inactivity.   cold hands.   blistering winds shaking the closed windows.   a bookcase full of brand new books and all of the time in the world to read them.   cable knit socks.   a bitter remark.   a log cabin in the middle of nowhere.  hating the cold.   full length windows to peer out of.   pale skin.   deep conversations.   watching the snow fall.  sharp edges.   hot cocoa.   smelling every candle in the store.   a wild snow storm.   melancholy.   lighting candles around the bathtub.   snow globes.   expressing yourself but never finding quite the right words.   the softest of blankets.  liking, but not loving something or someone.

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆.  the smell after it rains. being in control of yourself.   a soft breeze blowing your hair.   lightning when it strikes.   cherry blossoms.   bright mornings.   the first sign of hope.   the relief of finding something you lost.  paris in the spring.   birds chirping.   the art of growing.   a kiss on the cheek.   the clap of thunder.  a tornado in the valley.   smiling at a stranger.   planning.   saccharine pinks.   making promises.   trying something new.   hugs when you need them most.  a bee sting.   sitting on the steps of the met.  coming inside drenched from the thunderstorm.   picnics on a red checkered blanket in the new sun.   that feeling you get when you put on a good dress.   a long hike.   rushing when you can take your time.   going to the gym/training at ungodly hours.   excitement for what’s coming.   becoming yourself.   rain boots.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑.  lanterns lit around a campfire.   seeing the sunrise like it’s the first time again and again.   melting ice cream.   the warmth of sun rays upon skin.   fireworks.   the feeling of never wanting something to end.   beach days.   the lone blow up floaty left in the pool.   drifting with the warm nights breeze and nothing else.  music blasting at 3am.   loud and proud.   palms trees on sunset boulevard.   longer days and shorter nights.   wanderlust.   nights spent staring at the stars.   sand castles.   road trips.   blood orange sunsets.   leaving the laundry to hang outside.   flowers in bloom.   sneaking out of your room late at night.   pure contentment.   barefoot in the sand.   the street lights coming on.   the sound of the ocean in a seashell.   freshly squeezed lemonade.   loose clothing.   a cannonball into the pool.   sunflowers.   the hazy pink before dusk.   relaxation.

𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋.   the leaves changing colors.   a heavy backpack.   the smell of old books.   eating until you’re stuffed.   deep, dark woods.  the silence in loudness ( the loudness in silence ).   abandoned houses.   ripped jeans.   crunching leaves beneath feet.   feeling like you’ve been somewhere before.   sitting at a bay window.   having endless amount of work.   charcoal drawings.   screaming into a pillow as loud as you can.   pumpkin patches.   creaky floorboards.  accepting that some things do have to change.   museums.   small talk.   being ignored.   procrastinating.   a door slamming shut.   going to bed early.   baking pies.   the fear of walking alone in the dark.  feeling completely and terribly lost.   a twig snapping.   crisp, cool days.   belly laughter after crying.   converse.   foggy mornings at the shoreline.  writing a daily entry in a journal.   a lonely day.

tagged by:   @twistedwit​ thank yooou uvu tagging:   @seahaloed​ (henrik?)  & just anyone who wants to.