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mythpregftm · 29 days

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thinking a lot about pregnant Anders and I think being pregnant would honestly ground him a little bit, and it’d be a healing thing for him since he’s surprised he can even have a child with the grey warden taint + the trauma of circle mage family separation.

Anyways, he’s taking loads in his cunt from anyone in dark town/his companions thinking nothing will come of it because nothing does. until his mind is quieter than it has been in years and justice is urging him to eat more and more when before he only ate the food necessary for survival and anything else had to go to his cause. and overtime the pudge around his hips won’t go away. Pregnancy is the physically healthiest he’s been in years.

I love this sooo much... Anders is my babygirl and he deserves the absolute world. And a baby!!

Imagine. He lands in Kirkwall thin as a twig, dirty, and sallow. He works himself to the bone in Darktown witnessing injustices and horrors every day, offering what help he can at his clinic but it's never, ever enough. His hands shake, his back aches, and Justice won't keep quiet. He works til his mana is exhausted and he doesn't even recognize the pangs of his hunger. But it's Anders, and he's always been a flirt, so he still manages to find a little fun with thankful patrons from his clinic and his newfound companions through Hawke. Using sex as a stress relief, fucking his companions after stressful missions, letting them cum in his pussy because he loves getting his tight cunt stuffed. And hey, he's a Warden, it was drilled into him that he's basically infertile.

Except things start feeling strange. Justice rears its ugly head less and starts encouraging Anders to care for himself more. He must be ill, because his days are dotted with intermittent nausea, but even when he improves his food intake and his sleep schedule, Anders still feels nauseous and tender and sore...

It's Merrill that tells him how good he's looked recently. His face is fuller, there's more energy in his step, and he must be doing something right, because she says he's practically glowing... not with Justice, she clarifies. It confuses Anders more than anything, who doesn't often look in the mirror. But she's right... at home, Anders strips down, looks at himself, and sees the weight he's accumulated. The tiny bump in his belly doesn't even register at first, too surprised that he almost looks normal again. He's so much less bony and has a healthy flush to him, even if there's a bit more fat settling around his hips than he's used to. Soreness be damned, he feels great.

It still takes a little bit for him to notice changes, though. There's a heaviness in his hips and he keeps gaining weight... looking in the mirror again, the distention of his belly doesn't remind him of fat, it reminds him of...

Oh. Pregnancy.

Anders realizes he's pregnant with an actual child and he's a mess of emotion but his heart swells. He never thought he'd be able to have a baby, between the cruelty of the Circles and his tainted blood. But he's pregnant and he's healthy and Justice is ringing in his head- this is exactly what he wants. This is what he needs, and this is what he's fighting for. He looks and feels the best he has in years, and he's determined to stay that way for his precious gift.

...his companions are surprised but take it quite well. Anders looks good with a belly and pair of growing tits. They're especially for it when Anders' libido picks up and he begging to take their cocks in his soaking, pregnant cunt. Maybe that's when Hawke invites him to the mansion, where Anders can have his fertile body worshipped every night and not worry about the dangers of Darktown. He may not know whose babe he's carrying, but he gets all the love and sex he could ever want, and Hawke is acting like a proud father already. Anders' pregnancy works out for everyone involved <3

#mine #asks #dragon age

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greypetrel · 2 years

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'Twas the night before First day, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even the hound; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that the Dreadwolf soon would be there;

The uncles were nestled all snug in their bed, While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; And mamae in her 'kerchief, and papa in his cap, Had just settled down for a long winter's nap.

When into the bathroom there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. All through the corridor I flew like a flash, Tore open the door and threw up the sash.

The silvery surface of the mirror up there Shone really bright, green light filling the air, When, what to my wondering eyes did appear, But an elegant elf, his shock crystal clear,

He jumped out of the mirror, so graceful and quick, I knew in a moment it must be Solas Nick. He trampled the toothbrushes and bumped his bald head, And he grumbled, and asked me why I was out of bed.

He was dressed in bright yellow, and bare were his toes, Like mamae he seemed to be hating his shoes, No bundle of toys he had flung on his back, But told me that freedom he brought in his sack.

My eyes did not twinkle, but much did I pout: No freedom I asked, but a plushie mabari hound! He tried to convince me that freedom was better, But I would not stir, the request was clear in my letter;

He frowned very much, tried to turn me around, He insisted some more, but I stood my own ground; Dreadwolf or not, mama’s stories were clear: He was mama’s hahren, I had nothing to fear.

His sigh was so deep, of that jolly old elf, And I laughed when I heard it, in spite of myself; A wink of his eye and a shake of his head, Soon gave me to know indeed there was nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, As he joined of last-minute buyers the cirque, He queued the whole day, for First Day was nigh, Uncle as well swore he saw him with his eyes.

While out of the bathroom I ran like a hare, And woke up my parents, to tell them the tale; Papa was grumbling, he said it couldn’t be, But mamae knew better, and invited him for tea.

I waited and waited, the day felt like a climb, But back to the bathroom he returned past bedtime; He gave me my plushie, I squealed in delight: He said name was Freedom, and to hold on him tight.

I hugged and I thanked him, and to mamae I ran, While back in the mirror climbed back the weird man; But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he slipped out of sight, Happy First Day to all, and to all a good night!

- Freely adapted from "A Visit from St. Nicholas", by Clement Clarke Moore (art and all modification to the poem are mine)

(This was born after a delicious exchange of comments with Alatariel on Instagram - who knits wonderful amigurumi, check her out, she has a Anders with Justice which is *chef's kiss* on the "Solas as a Christmas elf". And so here it was, way post Trespasser, after a certain baby was told that sure, the Dreadwolf bring gifts to good children, when you saw him tell him mama says to fucking stop for dinner that she needs a hand, or else. Baby's named Niamh, ramen hair are not getting cut until she will ask for it, she's five and was VERY specific in her letter. Also asked Dorian -South for First Day holidays- to write the letter for her, you see...)

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #solas #dragon age trespasser #inquisitor lavellan #lavellan #cullen rutherford #cullavellan #cullen x lavellan #greypetrel #dorian pavus #the iron bull #da: i #da fanart #dragon age fanart #first day #poetry #some attempt at poetry I mean #oc

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heroofshield · 9 months

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Whumcember Day 22 Alt 2- Ice (Dragon Age 2, Fenhawke)

@whumpcember

"C'mon it'll be fun." Hawke smiled as she took Fenris's hand and gave it a tug. "Besides, you've never really gone ice skating. And since it's currently winter...no time like the present."

Fenris frowned but let Hawke drag him to the door and outside. He wouldn't admit that all he wanted to do was stay in front of the fire and drink. "Not when she's so excited to show me what 'ice skating' is. This is the first smile I've seen since Carver left." he thought as they made their way through the market and towards the main gates.

As they made their way through the snow, Hawke chattered on about how she used to ice skate with Carver and Bethany back in Lothering, how they would have to wait until Malcolm tested the ice to make sure it was thick enough to support their weight. "-and there was always someone who ended up skating too late in the season and went through the ice." Marian paused, realizing what she was saying. "But you don't have to worry about that, we're well into the season and it's been really cold."

"Are you sure?" Fenris said as they made their way to the pond that Hawke had pointed out when they'd gotten in view. He paused, raising an eyebrow at the ice where the water used to be. "It doesn't look that safe to me."

"It's fine. I went out last week and nothing happened." Hawke said, pausing for a moment before letting go of Fenris's hand and marched towards the bank. Not pausing, she moved away from the bank and onto the ice itself.

Fenris's heart leapt into his throat as he heard a crack...but nothing happened. Relaxing slightly he started to follow Hawke, getting onto the edge of the ice.

"See? It's like I-" Hawke started to say, smiling when suddenly there were several sharp cracks and she fell through the ice with a shout.

"Hawke!" Fenris called out, feeling his heart leap into his throat as she disappeared. Frantically he tried to recall what she'd said in the past if someone was to fall through the ice.

Moving quickly, he lay down on the ice- spreading his body weight so he didn't fall through either. Making his way towards the hole, he risked peeking over the broken ice to see if she was there. But only water greeted him and he swallowed thickly before taking a breath and plunging his hand into the water.

The cold instantly shocked him, shooting through his system almost instantly and it took all of his willpower to keep his hand in-moving about to hopefully brush into Hawke's.

The seconds seemed to become an eternity until something bumped against his hand. Resisting the urge to withdraw it, he stopped moving and felt fingers try to grasp his. Not hesitating, he moved his arm further in and was able to take her hand. Pulling with all his strength, Fenris saw Hawke appear and gasp for air. Still focused on getting her out of the water, he grabbed with his other arm and slowly but surely dragged her onto the ice.

Realizing that they weren't out of danger just yet, Fenris somehow managed to get them both off of the ice and onto the ground. It was all a blur, all he could think about was getting Hawke to safety.

Hawke's entire body was shivering and dripping wet. In the back of her mind she knew that she needed to get warm, but the overwhelming chattering of her teeth made it hard to form a coherent thought. Vision blurring, she was dimly aware of Fenris's body pressed against hers and him saying something about getting back to Kirkwall.

Anders stoked the fire in Hawke's room while saying, "I hope you won't go onto anymore ice after this. You were half-frozen by the time Fenris carried you back here. You were lucky yet again."

Hawke let out a sneeze and ignored the comment, choosing the burrow herself under the layer of blankets as much as she could. It had been a few day since she'd gone through the ice and still couldn't stop shivering. Peeking over the covers and she saw that her mabari was spread out in front of the fire. "At least one of us is enjoying the warmth."

Anders let a half-smile appear and leaned the poker against the brick, brushing the soot from his hands. "I'll be back tonight to see how you are and Varric'll be by later this afternoon."

"Thanks." Hawke watched as Anders slipped out of the room and closed her eyes, suddenly feeling tired. It felt like she'd closed them for a minute, but when she opened them next, Fenris was asleep in the chair next to the fire.

Slightly smiling, she was glad that he'd been with her that day and hoped the mild attraction they felt between each other could grow as time went on.

#whumpcember2023 #dragon age #da2 #fenris #hawke #fenhawke #fanfic #my writing

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mourn-and-watch · 1 year

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anders spent whole act 1 shit talking grey wardens claiming they're after him and wouldn't miss the opportunity to drag him back and then his conversation with stroud when he and hawke bumped into him in the deep roads went like

stroud: oh hello fancy meeting you here. thought you'd retired

anders: umm yeah not the point tho. there's no time to explain please make my bestie's sibling a warden

stroud: no. why should I

anders: because I said pretty please

stroud: uh alright then. see ya

and that was the man who supposedly was sent to hunt him down and whose maps he'd stolen for literally no reason

#dummy you really ran away from the wardens never even wrote them after that and then assumed they hate you now #you think they would judge you for eating people. have you seen amaranthine squad bestie. have you read warden history. please calm down #anders #dragon age

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glowing-blue-feathermage · 2 years

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"I made us friendship bracelets."

Merrill and Fenris friendship. Merrill is excited, Fenris is just thoroughly confused.

Some more Merrill & Fenris Friendship for @dadrunkwriting !

Sundermount was lovely in the fall. Fenris never got tired of the colors—red and orange maples, cheerful yellow birch and the always-present evergreens—and he always enjoyed the crisp air. It was a welcome respite from the hot city and it was why he’d allowed himself to be dragged along on this trip.

Ostensibly he was a bodyguard. He wouldn’t say so out loud, but he knew Merrill and Anders did not need his assistance to defend themselves. It annoyed him somewhat to be given that excuse for his company, all things considered, but up in the mountains in the pleasant weather it was difficult to compare these two mages to Danarius. Blood magic or not.

He trailed after them, keeping a token watch on their surroundings with they searched for their alchemical ingredients. Merrill had a basket looped around her arm, full of stalks and flowers and several roots that Fenris had been persuaded to dig up with his dagger.

Near midafternoon they came across a stream and with unspoken agreement between the three, they decided to stop. It was a pleasant spot, shaded by trees, the ground soft and spongy and carpeted with clover. Merrill sat beneath a red oak and began sorting the contents of the basket and Anders unpacked lunch.

The first thing Fenris did was strip his armor off and plunge his feet into the stream. It was chilly but glorious and soothing. He leaned back, weight on his hands and face turned up into the dappled sunlight that peeked through the trees.

It was peaceful, the only sound the twittering of birds and the hushed conversation behind him. Merrill and Anders seemed as loathe as he was to disturb the serenity.

But then Merrill appeared beside him, her own bare feet joining his in the water.

“Ohh. This is nice, isn’t it?” She smiled as the water ran over her toes.

Fenris grunted in agreement and then sighed when Anders joined them, putting Fenris in the middle.

“Must I always be surrounded by mages?” he groused.

“Yes,” Anders said simply, handing him a sandwich wrapped in cloth. "But only the good ones."

That was an argument Fenris would not be drawn into this day. Instead he ate his sandwich with his feet in the stream. As he shoved the last bite in his mouth, Merrill spoke.

“Here,” she said, holding something out to him.

On Fenris’s other side, Anders…giggled. That was the only word for it. Fenris looked at him suspiciously and then turned the look on Merrill.

She was holding out a knot of clover, stalks threaded through one another to make a circle of white and purple flowers.

“What is this?” he asked, making no move to touch it.

“I made us friendship bracelets,” Merrill told him brightly, showing him her own wrist where a similar decoration was fastened around it.

Fenris stared at the ‘bracelet’ and then raised an eyebrow at Merrill.

“I have one too,” Anders told him, bumping his shoulder and making him rock toward Merrill. The mage stuck his hand out, showing him the same string of clover wrapped around his wrist.

Fenris snorted. “I will not take offense at being left out of this ritual,” he said.

“Nonsense,” Merrill chirped, moving to take Fenris’s wrist and then stopping. Her eyes darted between his own. “You’re our friend.”

Anders leaned into him again, close enough that he could whisper into Fenris’s ear so quietly he doubted Merrill heard him, elf or not.

“Just wear it. I’ll reward you for your generosity tonight.”

Fenris felt his ears heat. “Fine,” he said, thrusting his wrist out for Merrill to attach the flower bracelet to it. “You realize that these will be crushed beneath my gauntlet, right? And that they are in fact dead now, since you tore them out of the ground.”

Anders groaned but Merrill laughed. “I could make friendship crowns instead,” she suggested, smirking at him. She leaned forward to look at Anders. “He would be cute in a flower crown, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely,” Anders agreed.

Fenris huffed. “Absolutely not.”

“Bracelet then,” Merrill concluded, draping the thing over his wrist, piercing the last stalk in the chain with her fingernail and threading the opposite end through it. “There. We are friends now.”

“We are—” he began, meaning to say not, but then stopped. He’d promised to try to get along with this woman, and had since been put upon by a plethora of knitting, woven baskets, hand-painted dishware and all manner of baked goods that he had not returned.

“Fine,” he sighed again. “We are friends.”

#dragon age #merrill #anders #fenris #merrill & fenris friendship #dadwc prompt fill #my writing #fenders if you squint

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2shuang · 11 months

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GatheringFiKi Trick or Treat event 2023

Trick: Last Halloween one of them got his heart broken. This Halloween he's going to put it past him. Or is he…?

relationship: Mitchell/Anders

warning: blood, character death

Thanks @linane-art and @gatheringfiki and apologise for my terrible English.

===

In Anders' dictionary, the word "Halloween" had never existed. He had no interest in picking up a pumpkin from the supermarket, nor did he fancy sporting a pair of silly bat wings on his back. Above all, he had no desire to open his door and find a group of kids draped in bed sheets, grinning foolishly and asking, "Trick or treat?"

No Trick. No treat.

Luckily, he lived in an apartment, and the security measures saves him from those chattering children.

Wait, not so lucky after all.

As Anders pulled out a bottle of beer and closed the fridge door, he found his boyfriend stooding by the sofa, holding a devilish headband and looking at him expectantly.

AND NO PUPPY EYES!

"If you dare to put that thing on my head, I promise you won't be allowed through my door from tomorrow," the god furrowed the brow.

"Fine, I'll wear it myself," Mitchell shrugged and placed the glowing red headband on his own head.

Anders arched an eyebrow, "Have a good night." Haunted houses and festive nights held no appeal for him.

"Hey! It's us going together!" The vampire seized the blonde attempting to slip away, lowered his head to nuzzle their foreheads, and drew them into a deep kiss.

With no need for breath, the vampire turned the kiss into a one-sided dominance. Anders gradually felt lightheaded due to the lack of oxygen. In his daze, he didn't realize when Mitchell removed his hands from Anders' waist, but he did notice that something had become entangled in his hair.

Mitchell restored his boyfriend's breath, saying, "Alright, let's go."

The disgruntled little god blinked and, after catching his breath, reached up to touch the item that had been placed on his head – a circlet.

"Since you're a 'god.'"

"Northman god," Anders rolled his eyes. "Bragi is not a flying baby without pants."

"That's not the point. Let's go."

Despite having Mitchell by his side, Anders remained uninterested in Halloween. The place was swarming with visitors dressed up as all sorts of vampires and ghosts, creating such a racket that he had to tug on the real vampire's collar each time just to lower his head enough to hear what he was saying. Oh, and they had to watch out for those agile "little ghosts" darting through the crowd.

Anders' gaze wandered aimlessly between the street's pumpkin lanterns and fluorescent skeleton costumes, finally settling on a candy-laden vendor cart by the roadside. "Maybe we can get some candy," Anders said, turning to look at the vampire. But Mitchell's attention was still elsewhere, as if he were searching for something.

"Mitchell? Mitchell!" Anders raised his voice.

"What?" the brunette turned his head around.

"I said we could get some candy," Anders' tone carried a hint of annoyance. "Just in case you feel like giving some to a little ghost who might bump into us."

He remembered Mitchell mentioning that when in England, they used to prepare a whole cookie tin full of candies for Halloween and wait for the doorbell to ring.

However, Mitchell's reaction took him completely by surprise. The vampire seemed to react as if stressed, his expression suddenly turning serious, almost angrily. He declined the suggestion and pulled him away from the candy cart.

Anders' dissatisfaction flared up as well. He had agreed to come to this Halloween market, which he didn't particularly like, with the idea of "accompanying Mitchell" tonight. But now, this fucking vampire was throwing a fit just because he suggested buying candy? But the only reason he wanted to buy candy is because giving out candy was Mitchell's tradition!

After being pulled along by Mitchell for a while, Anders realized that he seemed to have a specific destination in mind.

"Where are we going?" the god asked impatiently.

"To get some makeup."

"I beg you pardon?!"

"Makeup," Mitchell turned to look at him, "People do it for Halloween."

Anders immediately pulled his hand away. "If you like smearing all those colorful paints on your face, go ahead and turn your face into a graffiti wall. I don't like it."

"Happy?" Anders glared angrily at Mitchell. He had been given an exaggerated makeover, nearly unrecognizable.

The big puppy, also with a new face, nodded. He looked obedient, guilty, and remorseful, but with his makeup, it’s a bit comical.

The blonde fought the urge to pat this big puppy and sighed with a furrowed brow, "I'm hungry." He hadn't even had dinner to make it on time according to Mitchell's schedule.

The vampire, who had just settled down, became alert again upon hearing Anders' words. Unaware of his boyfriend's transformation, Anders pulled out his phone from his pocket and checked it, "There seems to be a restaurant not far ahead having a dinner party..."

"No!" Mitchell suddenly interrupted in a loud voice.

Startled, the little god hesitated for a few seconds, then ripped off the headband and flung it right at the vampire's chest.

"John Mitchell, I've had enough of you," Anders stared at him with a serious expression, his beautiful blue eyes reflecting the warm orange glow of the lights. If it weren't for the current atmosphere, Mitchell would have wanted to kiss them.

He rarely saw Anders genuinely angry, or rather, this was the only time.

But regardless, he wouldn't agree to Anders going to that restaurant.

"I don't know what's gotten into you, but tonight, you haven't respected my opinions for a single second. Now I'm not interested in continuing to be your servant." He roughly ruffled his hair and muttered to himself, "Why the hell did I waste an entire evening on this?"

"Anders, I..."

"Ahh, SHUT UP." Anders interrupted Mitchell just as the vampire had interrupted him earlier. "That's it. I'm going home, and you can stay for your Halloween revelry."

Going home.

The words hit the vampire like a pin bursting a balloon, making him suddenly realize something.

Home.

Small, enclosed, controllable, home.

Why had he never thought that he could lock Anders in their room tonight? They didn't need any makeup or masks to hide themselves. As long as Anders didn't see anyone besides him, he would be safe, of course!

No, Anders didn't even need to see him! To avoid any moment when he couldn't control his vampire nature.

Mitchell was thrilled with his newfound idea, but when he came to his senses, the angry god had already disappeared into the bustling crowd.

"Anders? ANDERS!!!"

The surrounding noise and laughter seemed to announce his failure once again.

Mitchell moved against the flow of the crowd, simultaneously trying to detect the familiar scent of his lover in the air.

He was no longer in a hurry because no matter when he found Anders, there was only one outcome waiting for him. A ten-minute time difference wouldn't change anything.

However, he still had chances.

The first time, they decided to spend Halloween at home. But when Anders heard a knock at the door and went to answer it, a sharpened wooden stake drove into his carotid artery.

The second time, he chose to take Anders out. While walking down the street, a few trick-or-treat kids approached them, bouncing around. Anders urged him to buy some candy quickly to get rid of these annoying little imps. But when he returned with candy and saw Anders again, his lover was lying in a pool of blood, with a few kids wiping the blood from their mouths standing nearby.

The third time, they picked a less crowded street and stayed close to his little god. But an arrow pierced through Anders' chest from behind.

The fourth time, he took Anders to a restaurant with a performance. However, in the few seconds he looked down to twirl his pasta with his fork, a gun was pressed against Anders' head.

The fifth time, when he finally found the familiar scent in a dark alley, Anders was barely clinging to life, curled up in a corner. The paint on his face had smeared with blood, looking dirty and comical.

And he was almost becoming numb to it.

He didn't even rush to the blonde immediately, despite Anders' eyes widening at the sight of him. The neck wound left him speechless. Anders was surprised and in pain at his almost indifferent composure, struggling on the brink of life and death, desperately needing his lover.

Mitchell knelt by Anders' side, carefully cradling him in his arms and leaned down to kiss his blood-smeared lips.

Tears streamed down the little god cheeks.

"I promise, baby, I promise, there won't be anyone hurting you next time."

Because he suddenly thought of a better way. Instead of hiding from other vampires' hunts with Anders, he would do it himself.

Next Halloween, he would bring his young vampire with him, joining tonight's revelry.

#GF's Trick or Treat 2023 #britchell #anders johnson #john mitchell #gatheringfiki

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lesetoilesfous · 2 years

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Happy Friday! How about 'nudging the other one' for Nanders? (or any Anders pairing really)

Thank you so much for the prompt!

If you want a Dragon Age fic, send me a prompt from here!

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Nanders

Characters: Anders, Nathaniel Howe

Tags: idiots, fluff, pre-relationship

Rating: Mature

It had seemed innocuous at first. Anders had been sitting in the canteen - at the very end of the table, closest spot to the door - when Nathaniel had climbed onto the bench next to him and bumped his soldier. Anders had thrown some joke about the rogue minding his reflexes, and Nathaniel had laughed it off. That was that. Or so it seemed. Except that the next meal time Nate had done the same thing, and the one after. And then he'd graduated from shoulder bumps to elbows, and even, occasionally, knees touching under the table. When they'd graduated from above the waist to below it, Anders had made some lewd comment, expecting Nate to rejoinder in all his soldiering glory. But he'd just shrugged and grinned into his stew, as if the idea of fucking Anders wasn't all that objectionable after all. (And wasn't that a thought that kept him up at night, after).

It wasn't just at meal times, either. They'd be on a mission with the Commander, and Nate would slope into Anders with all the grace of a drunk Bronco, bumping him almost off the path. Anders would flounder and Nate would laugh at him before offering him a hand, that turned into a warm arm around his shoulders and Nate murmuring in his ear, hot breath warm on his neck.

It just continued. When Varel was doing something particularly Seneschal-y, Nathaniel would put a hand on Anders' thigh as he leaned in, ostensibly to explain something vague about Amaranthine's local politics. Anders was fuzzy on the details because Nathaniel's hand was on his thigh, but he's pretty sure he learned something.

On reflection, it takes him an almost embarrassingly long time to realise that all this Means something. They're drinking, and Nathaniel is nudging Anders with his elbow for the third time that night, this time in a way that has become almost a language between the two of them, as he chucks his chin at where Oghren is trying to balance three hazelnuts on his nose, red beard covered in white pearls of beer foam.

Anders snorts and leans into Nate, and Nate accepts him easily, looping one long strong arm around his shoulders. His black hair tickles Anders' chin when Anders tilts his head back to look up at him. "Why d'you do that? Nudge me all the time."

Nate flushes red to the tips of his ears, slowly, and tries and fails to hide it in his battered wooden flagon. Several things make sense at once. Anders sits up, adrenaline breaking through the hazy fog of alcohol. "Nate, Nate, Nate," Nathaniel ignores him, so Anders pokes his chest until he looks back at him with a beleaguered expression.

"What, Anders?"

"Do you like me?"

"Maker preserve me."

Anders crows, "That's not a no!"

Then he plunges forward, and smacks a clumsy, beer-flavoured kiss against Nate's stubbled chin. Nathaniel squawks, reeling back, and Anders mostly expects that to be the end of it. Except then Nathaniel's strong arms are embracing him, and he's leaning forward, and suddenly all that Anders can taste or breathe is the warm, leather and oil and sweat smell of him.

Nathaniel tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and Anders makes a sound he's sure he'll be embarassed about when he's sober, but it makes Nate's hand tighten in his hair, pulling at his scalp just so, and Anders licks into the warmth of Nate's kiss with a hunger he hasn't felt since -

Strong hands pull the two of them apart, and Anders looks up abruptly into the face of death. Sigrun grins, "Alright you two, hot and heavy makeouts in your rooms please, no one paid for dinner and a show."

Anders looks from Sigrun's bright, laughing brown eyes to Nathaniel's. Nate looks...hopeful, and pink with a blush that Anders has never seen on him. He's holding out his hand.

Anders waves a salute at Sigrun, and a bow as he wobbles uneasily to his feet. "Your wish is my command!"

Nathaniel laughs, getting up too. He takes Anders' hand, and his palm is rough and scratchy with callouses, but warm all the same. He squeezes his fingers and steps closer, bumping their shoulders together. When he looks up at Anders, his dark eyes are almost shy. "Are you sure about this?"

Anders giggles. "I've never been sure about anything in my life, and I have no intention of starting now."

Nathaniel grins, and nudges his elbow. "Well then. Let us away."

#nathaniel howe #anders da2 #nanders #da2 #pinkfadespirit

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lasatfat · 1 month

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2, 5, 71 for any/as many ships as you'd like c:

OC relationship asks

2 - Who fusses the most? Do their S/Os mind very much?

Alistair/Eireann/Cullen/Kali: Due to the anxiety disorder, I think Kali will fuss much more than the others. Eireann is good at healing up any bumps or scrapes, and she knows enough about herbalism to treat minor illnesses, so she’s got a pretty good handle on when she needs to fuss and when she can leave something alone. Kali really needs to be talked into accepting any care. She and Cullen are very much alike in this regard. They quite enjoy it once they are being fussed over, though. Alistair will probably play it up a little bit to get extra kisses and cuddles, haha.

Rian/Anders: Anders is definitely the fusspot. Comes with the territory of being a healer. Lucky for him, Rian is quite happy to be fussed over. The problems come when Rian tries to fuss for a change. It’s a fight to get Anders to accept any of their generosity.

Gideon/Dorian: This is an odd one? I think they’d love to fuss over each other a little bit, but are very conscious of how it could be perceived. The Magister receiving favour from the Inquisitor and all that malarkey. When in private, or out in the field with the inner circle, they do check in with each other a lot. They both enjoy a bit of pampering.

5 - What is something they enjoy doing together?

Alistair/Eireann/Cullen/Kali: Kali started a routine of bringing Cullen breakfast each morning, both to make sure he ate something and to spend some time with him each day. They invite Eireann and Alistair to join in, and it serves the same purpose for all of them. They’ll also pair off and practice sparring too, which doubles as good eye candy for whoever isn’t fighting at the time.

Rian/Anders: Rian helps Anders at the clinic whenever they can, and they gain a decent working knowledge of first aid as a result. I think enjoy might be the wrong word, but it’s something they both find rewarding. In their down time, they like to just curl up together in front of the fire.

Gideon/Dorian: Reading together is a big one. Dorian loves his books, and he has plenty of recommendations. Gideon finds it very relaxing. He’ll often just fall asleep, straight-up. Dorian makes a show of being annoyed by it, but he secretly finds it endearing. He can read on his own and let his amatus snooze.

71 - If someone were to insult their S/O, how would the other(s) handle it?

Alistair/Eireann/Cullen/Kali: Going by the scene with Goldanna in Origins, Alistair’s first instinct is to jump in and defend their honour. The more he’s with Eireann, however, the more he learns to stand back and let the insulter dig their own grave. Eireann is not quite on the same level as Vivienne or Solas in terms of eloquent take-downs but she can fuck you up. Cullen picks up on that pretty quickly as well. I think a lot of their response is just making sure everyone is alright after Eireann has torn someone a new asshole. Kali might be an anxious person, but she’s very protective as well. She was the youngest halla-keeper of Clan Lavellan, and she carries that instinct into all her relationships. She’s not very defensive of herself, however, but she has three other people to pick up the slack there.

Rian/Anders: The sad thing is, as Rian gains more power, I don’t know how much they can defend Anders in person. They’re Champion of Kirkwall, working directly for Meredith, so they have to play their cards very carefully. It’s something they regret for the rest of their life.

Gideon/Dorian: Both are good at quick put-downs. Usually, they’ll have a good laugh about it later, but on the rare occasion that something does really get to them, Gideon insists on talking it out, rather than pushing it down and burying it under drink like Dorian is prone to do.

#asks #answered #layalu

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musicfeedsmysoul12 · 4 months

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What about your first world state for DATV? What’s it about?

Those We Care For: Rosalind Amell is the affair child of Revka Amell and a Tal-Vasoth. She's never had anyone care for her because she was born with grey tinged skin and slight bumps on her head. As a child, she was shunned and excluded from the family. When she developed her magic, she was locked up for a week straight with one meal a day until the Templars came.

She went to Ferelden where she met Sarah and Jowan, who became her friends. However, given how the tower was, she still felt like no one cared about her. Sarah, her friend, was a rageful little being who was more focused on sticking it to the templers. Jowan was a mess of emotions and his own troubled thoughts.

Rosalind stuck out at the tower with her Qunari features and was tormented for them as well. Her height was a point of mockery, and the fact it was obvious she would get broad had many taunting her more. The Templars used to starve her in punishment for anything, and mocked her for still being 'to damn big'.

Rosalind had a baby when she was fourteen, an act she refused to speak about but the truth was a Templar decided he liked her. She didn't like him but he did not care. She gave up the baby and has never really gotten over what happened, which is reasonable.

Sarah died when they were fifteen, and this is when Irving began noticiing Rosalind who is very powerful but in a subtle way. Sarah was more flashy, and the sheer strength of Rosalind was unseen. This has Rosalind further convinced no one cares.

Then, her Harrowing happened. And she was dragged out of the Circle and thrust into the world as a whole. This is where her journey began to heal a little. Rosalind developed bonds with her companions, and fell in love with Leliana. She felt people cared, and it was the best thing ever in her life.

However, Rosalind could not go through with the Dark Ritual, fearing what Flemeth would do with an Old God Baby. She fought to the top of Denerim, and then she and Alistair were trapped, unable to get to the Archdemon. She noticed the blood around her, and made a choice.

She used the blood and flashfried herself and the Arcdemon, dying saving the world and finally being cared for.

We then have the rouge Lilith Hawke. Lilith has always been angry, and she's never been able to articulate why. As a child she was violent and often was punished for it. No one knew why she was like this, but Malcom had some thoughts: his work with the Wardens. Lilith overheard him speak about the possibility of a Demon latching onto his child and got angrier. She blamed him for her anger. She hated him and he died with her rage directed at him. She ended up angrier and more vengeful.

Joining the army, she got even worse when Carver followed him, insulting the other and mocking him. He however wasn't to offended, for he'd found out that Malcom may have attracted a demon who latched onto Lilith, though could not posess her without her having magic. Her anger was understandable to him.

He told her he knew and he cared, but she was 'still a bitch'. She had to laugh at that. She was. He died in their fleeing Ferelden though and she felt alone.

Lilith would eventually piece together a rage demon is linked to her, an experimental spell cast by Malcom under guidence from the Wardens. Her rage comes from it. She would devote years to battling it, and figuring herself out. However, until then she found herself lost. Carver, who cared, died. Bethany was scared of her, and Leandra was... well, Leandra wasn't a great mother to Lilith and it showed. They stopped really talking to each other unless needed.

While in Kirkwall, Lilith met the others and developed a bond with Anders. He could actually see she did have a demon attatched, confusing him but he provided a welcoming ear and a shoulder if needed. Lilith fell head over heels for him, to no surprise. More so when Bethany almost died of the Blight and he saved her.

Lilith found her friends cared about her, and that Anders loved her. She soaked it in, and this was how she could combat more and more the demon inside.

She cut a bloody swathe through Kirkwall, but she was loved and that's all she cared about.

Shok has been removed because I want a Solvellan for my first playthrough for the drama so stay tuned!

#dragon age #rosalind amell #lilith hawke #those we care for #tw reference abuse

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apoombeam · 4 months

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[though I think that James prefers not sending Anders out on jobs by himself, even if he can long-distance heal him.]

Oh, I definitely agree. It is possible to lose a fight, even with healing, especially when the other person has enhanced healing as well. He’d still want to be on hand to jump in, if it is ever necessary. (Part of the appeal is probably also the opportunity to watch him up close while he’s fighting. Which, I think James and I agree, is both funny and hot.)

It wouldn’t even really be practical, because he’d still need to spend that time focusing on Anders

Field conditions really wouldn’t be ideal to try it out. It could come upin everyday life, if on the way to the grocery store or during the visit to Claude’s pack Anders were to stub a toe or bump his shin. James would prefer trying to heal that himself across the distance, rather than letting anybody else do it

Or maybe he actually already is healing Anders very regularly, consciously or unconsciously (it would be easier to do it consciously).

When James started exploring his healing powers he did seem to have some sort of scientific curiosity. Though that was mostly him self-justifying his Anders-fascination and sadism. I don’t how interested he has been in exploring the full extent of his healing powers now that he doesn’t really need to use them as an excuse anymore.

[Love hearing your theories!]

Thank you! I’m really glad to hear that, and thank you for giving the material to spin them!

[Part of the appeal is probably also the opportunity to watch him up close while he’s fighting. Which, I think James and I agree, is both funny and hot.]

This is definitely true. I think it also might be a sadistic act for him as well, since Anders doesn't enjoy violence in the way he does, and he knows this. And then there's how he gets to watch Anders move and fight how HE taught him to. That must be satisfying as well. And I think he also just takes pride is Anders in general.

[Or maybe he actually already is healing Anders very regularly, consciously or unconsciously (it would be easier to do it consciously).]

I can imagine Anders at first being very stubborn in hiding his injuries (though of course that would be near impossible around James). And James having fun prying the information out of him.

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greypetrel · 2 years

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

Hello! ✨

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

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

Tis the prompt list

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe the answer was on the bottom of that glass.

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

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

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

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

“You know me, I live to serve.”

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

“He wished.”

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

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

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

“What for.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly, why.”

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

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

“I should thank you for coming back.”

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

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

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

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

The work on her hand stopped.

“I am sorry. I… I was busy.”

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

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

“Merrill told me.”

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

“She told me about you. And her.”

“… Ah.”

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

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

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

“What about…?”

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

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

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

“There, good as new. And that’s it.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow.”

“I see.”

“It’s… I can’t stay here, Hawke.”

“I understand.”

“Castillon’s men will look for me.”

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You did.”

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

“It makes sense.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… Goodbye, Hawke. Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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fademirrored · 1 year

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alpha: Champion of Kirkwall

“I’m an older brother to twins. I’ve learned from the best how to ignore someone trying to get on my nerves.”

Cyrus “Crabapple” Hawke Champion of Kirkwall. Primarily Blue

Male. He/Him/His. Panromantic, demisexual. 13 Bloomington, 9:10 Dragon. Lothering, Ferelden. Mage; Primal and Force magic.

Eyes: Light blue. Narrow, hooded. Looks perpetually skeptical. Hair: Very pale blond, but more gold than white. Smooth, slightly wavy, just past his shoulders. Usually pulled back, though he’s not fussed about how. If it’s down, he spends most of his time pushing it out of his face. Skin: Typically pale, but tans relatively easily. Gets freckles easily. Height: 5'9". Build: Average height, stocky, with well built arms and shoulders. Generally looks like he can deck someone pretty solidly in the face. Notable Details: Electrical scars up his arms. Very prominent bump on the bridge of his nose. Scar through his right eyebrow. Voice: Standard male Hawke voice.

Positive Traits: Kind to a fault, general grumpiness aside; he likes to help and to give what he can, and he likes to keep people safe and happy and tended to. Patient, even if he’s grumpy; it takes a while before his default grumpiness turns into actual anger. Modest and willing to take input; he knows he’s not the top of every class, and accordingly he’s willing to take advice. Decisive; it typically doesn’t take him long to pro and con a situation and decide on a course of action, and he’s not prone to waffling once he’s made his decision. Team player, good at cooperating; he doesn’t necessarily need to be in charge, even if that’s how it frequently works out, and he’s happy to defer to someone else when that would be best. Negative Traits: Irritable and grumpy, and is typically always some level of exasperated, like he’s just assuming the situation is going to turn weird; Varric calls him Crabapple for a reason. Strict, even when it’s not required; it’s more of a knee-jerk reaction carried over from the fact that Kirkwall is a deathtrap, and he’s duly chastened when called on it, but it happens again regardless. Overly blunt, to the point of being tactless; it’s not even an ignorant thing, since he’s generally aware that what he’s saying is not the most polite option, but he wants what he thinks to be known anyway. Neutral Traits: Ambivert. Deadpan. Dryly snarky. Agreeable to most things that don’t sound bat shit crazy. Casual and not too fussed about ceremony or formality. Gets a bit scatterbrained when it’s quiet. Gets a little theatrical at times. Optimist vs. Pessimist: Optimistic, albeit cautiously so; attempts to be a realist. Quirks: Prone to nonsequiturs. Likes having company, but doesn’t always want to talk to his company. Prefers a day to be structured, which probably contributes to his grumpiness.

Religion: Agnostic and uninterested. Likes: Dogs. Kids. Music. Dance. Finding new and bizarre uses for magic. Savory-sweet combos. Coffee. Mead. The night sky. Heavy storms. The rare chance to see a good landslide. Dislikes: Templars. People who are very insistent that The Circle Is Good Actually. Being underground. Most authority figures, until they prove themselves. Being hurled into the limelight. Getting caught in heavy storms or a good landslide. Being preached at. Favorite Colors: Electric blue. Grey-blue. Crimson red. Electric yellow. Hobbies: Finding unconventional magic uses. Can play the piano. Cooking. Dog-training. Helps in the clinic. Somehow winds up babysitting most of the children in Lowtown even once he lives in Hightown.

Family: Malcolm Hawke (father, deceased). Leandra Hawke (mother, deceased). Carver Hawke (brother). Bethany Hawke (sister, deceased). Gamlen (uncle). Dog: Decker. Romance: Anders. Friends: Fenris. Merrill. Aveline. Varric. Carver. Note: He’s a little embarrassed to admit that Sebastian always made him a little uncomfortable, what with his utmost faith in the Chantry and the Circle and Cyrus’s greatest fear being getting thrown into the Circle. *everything in this sectioncan of course be tweaked or disregarded entirely for specific threads, if you’d rather.

#Hightown Matters [Cyrus]#darp #dragon age rp

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verena-amell · 2 years

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30 Day Grey Warden Challenge: Verena Amell (Day 1)

(reposting here since I’m cleaning up my main tumblr)

Day One. Let’s start off with a basic profile of your character.

What is their full name? [Why did you choose that name for them? Name meaning?] Her full name is Verena Amell though many at the Circle like Jowan and Anders (along with Alistair, Leliana, Oghren, and Wynne) call her by her nickname “Vera.” The name kind of just popped into my head randomly and stuck (found out later it was because of emegustart’s Verena Trevelyan oops ndjskadba) and when I looked it up I found out it means “protector” in German and “defending friend” in Teutonic? Dunno about the last one but protector was perfect for the image I was going for, even if she initially doesn’t seem like it. I’ve also seen it mean “shy” which also fits her, especially in the beginning.

For Vera, apparently it has origins in Latin meaning “true” and also has a Slavic origin meaning “faith” /o/

Age? 19 (a few months shy of 20) when she takes the Joining, 20 by endgame, and 21 when Awakening begins

Birthday? 14 Cloudreach, 9:10 Dragon

Gender? Female

Race? Human! Technically from the Free Marches considering she’s an Amell but she definitely considers herself Ferelden through and through

Class? Vera’s a mage, focusing on Ice/Lightning in the Primal tree (though ice is one of her two specialties) and everything in the Spirit tree aside from the Walking Bomb branch which she won’t touch with a ten-foot pole because it skeeves her out too much. Incidentally though, she actually learns it closer to the Inquisition period. Her specialty, however, is healing. She’s almost as good as Anders and practices with Wynne regularly during their travels.

Her specializations are Spirit Healer, Arcane Warrior, and Battlemage (which I’ll go into detail later)

CUT HERE FOR MASSIVE LENGTH

Background? TL;DR TIME Vera was taken away from her mother Revka and her home in Kirkwall when she was barely five years old. While normally children don’t show magical signs until closer to puberty, Vera was reading a storybook with her mother when Revka gave herself a papercut. Wanting to help her mother the way she always did with her whenever she bumped or scraped herself, little Vera took her mother’s hand and pretended to rub and soothe the cut only this time, it disappeared entirely in a soft blue glow. This was not the first time this had happened to one of Revka’s children (but the first time it had happened so early) so the very next day her father shipped her off to the Circle and she was taken to Ferelden.

Needless to say, she did not have a very warm welcome from the Templars to the Ferelden Circle and though Irving took pity on her for being so young, the Templars quickly quashed the rebelliousness out of her. However, it was only by a stroke of luck that one such Templar decided to be kind and give her back the book her mother had given her as a keepsake (which had then been subsequently confiscated) and, along with Irving, introduce her to another abnormally young apprentice, Jowan. Jowan, nearly two years older than Vera and who had been at the Circle for over a year already, was at first reluctant to have anything to do with her but when she soon went missing, he was the first to go looking for her, frantic and hoping to find her before the Templars became suspicious (and before he was blamed for it). He found her in the very back of the apprentice quarters behind a bed and trying (and failing) to read her treasured book, more specifically a long letter her mother had written in the back for her to read when she was older. When Jowan finally told her that her mother must have loved her very much, it was then that Vera finally burst into tears for the first time since she had left home and clung to him for dear life, surprising him. The two were almost inseparable ever since.

Anders played a pretty big role in her life in the Circle as well; she met him not long (2 months) after she was brought to Kinloch Hold, just a few days after he himself was brought to the Circle. Like with all the others, he refused to talk to her, let alone give her his name, but since it was close to dinnertime Vera took it upon herself to escort him from the apprentice quarters to the dining hall. (The reality of it though was that Jowan ended up staying late because he fell asleep during his lessons and was escorted to the dining hall without her) It was only five months after that however that Anders made his first escape attempt and when he was brought back just a few days later, she stuck to him like glue, asking him endless questions about his brief time outside. He warmed up to her more after that and Vera was happy to see a familiar face when she was later placed into the more specialized healing lessons for apprentices.

One amusing thing to note is that after the Lake Calenhad stunt that Finn mentions in Witch Hunt (about Anders jumping off the docks and into the lake to swim to freedom during an outdoor exercise session) Vera refused to talk to him for over a week.

Through Anders she also became acquainted with Karl, though she never grew especially close with him like she did with Anders and Jowan. Mostly she knew him as Anders’ friend (later boyfriend though she knew better than to say that aloud) and that Anders was the happiest she’d ever seen him when they were together. She too was extremely worried when Karl was sent to Kirkwall but knew better than to say anything while he grieved. Instead she stood by him quietly and prayed that the Templars would still show him mercy the next time he escaped. When Anders was put into solitary confinement for a year, it was the first time she took advantage of her relatively good standing in the Circle and used every advantage she had as Irving’s favorite student to give him what little company she could.

Jowan’s betrayal hit her the hardest. After talking to Irving and heatedly arguing with him for the first time, Vera found herself about to directly confront Jowan with the question about him practicing blood magic. However, she dropped the question at the last second, feeling horribly guilty for doubting him, and decided to help him. Anders had escaped again just a few weeks past and she didn’t want to lose her best friend, the boy she grew up with. Though a tiny part of her resented Lily for essentially taking Jowan from her, she knew that she would lose him either way and she was glad he found happiness. Bottom line was that she absolutely would not let Irving and Greagoir turn him Tranquil for something he didn’t do. While she at first tried to settle things peacefully (quietly telling Jowan not to make things worse when he yelled at Irving), when Greagoir sentenced Jowan to death, Vera immediately stepped forward and defended him loudly and vehemently. However, when he used blood magic to defend Lily, she found herself rooted to the spot, shell-shocked even after his escape, and only spoke up to defend Lily. Even when Greagoir continued to shout at her, she remained silent and immediately gave back the Rod of Fire that she had taken when Irving asked. The only time she spoke up was to speak a few words when Duncan recruited her and to give a quick farewell to Cullen near the entrance, asking him to keep the book her mother gave her safe since she knew she wouldn’t be allowed back to retrieve it.

(she later finds out that he gives it to Owain for safekeeping shortly afterwards, strictly instructing him to not let anyone take it but himself and it’s given back to her after the events at Kinloch Hold)

ETA: realized belatedly I probably should write a little blurb about her and Cullen; basically nothing really happens. She crushed massively on him and he on her but she never did anything about it, never made him run for the hills during THAT conversation. It was basically the Circle’s worst kept secret though and everyone knew but them two so it was a shock when that one apprentice finally told her outright that he was in love with her, though she didn’t believe it (and didn’t have the courage to ask him about it) until the events of Broken Circle.

Pictures

SCREECHES THIS COMMISSION WAS JUST FINISHED BY turiannn AND I’M STILL OVER THE MOON ABOUT IT LOOK AT HERRRRRRRRRRRRR

lil’ bab in her shiny new mage robes though she’s a little sad because she liked the color of the apprentice robes better

she actually changes into these (Vestments of the Seer) on the way to Ostagar until she gets her Warden armor

after Broken Circle she uses Irving’s staff (Staff of the First Enchanter) all the way until near the end of the Blight; she switches to the staff that Varathorn makes for her in gratitude (Keeper’s Staff seen below) even though she insisted he use the ironbark for the elves instead. However, she’s enternally grateful for his generosity and continues to use it for years, even into Inquisition.

#verena info

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